Charlie finished his breakfast at great speed. “I’m off to the stables and can hardly wait to tell Miss Groton the good news.”
Jason eyed his brother’s broad back as he hurried from the room. He was a good-looking young man. Would Miss Groton resist the attraction? It would be a test of her character should she be swayed by a prospective beau who was plumper in the pocket. Jason sighed. Life was filled with disappointments, but even so, he would hate to see Charlie hurt.
He took up the broadsheet but mused over what he’d learned about Bart’s death. He’d sent a note to Bow Street and expected a runner to be assigned to the case. He hoped it would be one of their best men. Bow Street didn't always work well with the government.
A sensitive handling of this was required, for it appeared that the answer lay within the walls of Kinsey House. Despite his warning, might Lady Helen take it upon herself to discover what had happened to Bart? Such a possibility was unnerving and made him put aside the newspaper. He would be relieved when her father returned home. Until then the family was vulnerable. Lady Kinsey was smart, but a woman’s power was limited, and Toby, as the only male member in residence, was just fifteen.
He’d have a word with the watchman and urge him to keep a sharp eye out when he called on Lady Kinsey tomorrow. Today, he planned to seek out the herbalist named on the bottle.
As he drank a final cup of strong coffee, bitter the way he liked it, Lizzie entered in a lavender and cream striped walking gown. “That color becomes you, Lizzie,” he observed. “You’re up early this morning.”
“I am to assist the baron with the placement of several paintings that have just arrived in London.” She poured a cup of tea from the fresh pot brought by the footman.
Jason knew it would be a waste of time advising her to take her maid. “I gather the exhibition goes well thus far?”
Her eyes brightened. “Jas, I can’t wait for you to see the fine art the baron has brought to England.” She shrugged. “Although I suspect I am not a great deal of help to him. He insists that I am. While we consider the best arrangement for the paintings, he talks always of his home in Florence. Statues amongst the aged cypress trees, groves of olives, and grape-laden arbors. And the sunshine. So very different to England. It does sound appealing.”
“You have been seen alone with him now on several occasions. Has he made his intentions clear?”
A small frown creased her forehead. “Not precisely.”
“Take care, Lizzie.”
“Widows don’t come under as much scrutiny as unmarried girls. And what the gossips might think doesn’t concern me. He may not want to marry me. After all, there’s no guarantee I’ll give him an heir.”
“Isn’t that so for every woman? Who’s to say the problem didn’t lie with Greywood.”
She flushed and shook her head, unwilling to find any fault with her dead husband. “But the fact remains that Greywood and I were childless after five years of marriage. It may sway Bianchi’s decision.” Her eyes darkened. “I enjoy being with him, Jas. I feel happier than I have for ages. Is that so very bad?”
He reached across and patted her hand where it moved restlessly on the table. “I understand your need to find love again.”
“Do you?” Lizzie proceeded to butter her toast. She eyed him thoughtfully. “Why don’t you believe in marriage?”
“I haven’t seen many good marriages to persuade me.”
“You are thinking of our parents.”
“That is one example, certainly. It seemed to me that Father was more content after Mother was gone.”
Lizzie paused, her spoon hovering over the pot of marmalade. “That’s not true! He was miserable! You didn’t see it. You weren’t there very much.”
“I was there in the early days, Lizzie. You were a baby. You didn’t witness the rows, the threats, the smashing of ornaments. Father riding off for hours alone.” Recalling it saddened him. “But toward the end, he seemed peaceful.”
She spread jam over the toast. “Theirs was a fiery, passionate relationship.”
“Well, I would never want that.”
“You did want to marry, once.” She took a bite and chewed pensively. “Does your reluctance have anything to do with Phoebe?”
Phoebe.They had both been so young and thought they had the whole of their lives ahead of them. He drew in a deep breath. “That was a long time ago.”
Lizzie gave him a careful glance. “It was such a tragedy when she was thrown from her horse.”
“She was always a neck-or-nothing rider. Shouldn’t have been riding Juno, her father’s stallion, let alone jumping him over that brick wall.” The memory still had the power to tighten his throat, although it had lessened over the years, leaving him with profound regret. After Phoebe had ignored his appeal, he should have pulled her off that skittish horse. He’d gone after her, but too late.
“You joined the army almost immediately after her death,” she said. “Father was furious.”
“He was at the time.” Father had said he’d never forgive him. He’d accused Jason of letting the family down. Father had Charlie, Jason had argued, but it fell on deaf ears. In the following years, when he’d returned from the army intact, physically, at least, they’d made peace with one another, and their relationship had been a cordial one when his father died.
