In the mirror above the fireplace, she saw Robert’s eyes gleam. “And you accepted him, of course.”
“No. I refused him.”
His shoulders sagged. “But, Laura, why?”
She turned to face him. “Because I don’t want a loveless marriage.”
“How foolish. Edward is fond of you. He offers you a safe, comfortable marriage. Why fill your head with dreams of romance?”
She cast him a level glance. “Does not Miss Aurelia Laverty stir your passion?”
Robert flushed. “But a man’s needs differ from women’s.”
“Once you and Miss Laverty marry, I shall leave this house. It would please me greatly if you would consider leasing a small cottage for me in the village, or better still, a few rooms in London, but if not, I will live with Aunt Gertrude. If she ever forgives me for refusing Edward.”
“I doubt she will. Rooms in London? To live alone at your age would be extremely foolish,” Robert said, and he stomped out.
Laura glanced back at her face in the mirror. She looked amazingly calm. Her concern about marrying Edward had affected her more than she realized. Whatever lay ahead now, she was free.
*
Brendan spent hisfirst afternoon in London at the House of Lords, where a discussion of Lord John Russell’s speech about the disenfranchising of corrupt boroughs was in progress. Russell expressed the view that it was the duty of the House to rid Britain of any borough convicted of gross and notorious bribery and corruption, and to cease to send its members to parliament.
It was late when Brendan and his friends, Tate, Duke of Lindsey, and Hart, Marquess of Pembury, walked into White’s Club to dine and play a game or two of faro. They greeted the Duke of Wellington seated at his table in the bow window with another gentleman, then, awaiting their table, they took leather armchairs near the fireplace while sharing a bottle of claret.
“You seem different.” Tate eyed Brendan. “I suspect much has happened of late.”
“Is it a lady?” Hart asked.
“An unhappy romance is the most earth-shattering thing, according to Hart,” Tate observed with a grin.
Hart chuckled. “And any man who says different lies?”
Sick of how off-kilter he’d felt about Laura, and the quandary of his family situation, he felt the need to unburden himself. He loved her. No matter what happened, he wanted no other woman to fill his life.
Both men would understand. Now happily married with a babe in their nurseries, they had shared their experiences with him. Tate had come close to losing his estate, as well as Ianthe, whom he dearly loved. And Hart had feared he’d ruined his chance for a happy life with his beloved Maddie, while he’d fought to protect her from a villain who’d wanted her dead.
“Hart is partly right,” Brendan admitted. “There is a lady, but also a mystery. Although I’m not confident either will reach a satisfactory end.” He leaned back in his chair and leveled a glance at his good friends. Usually, while in their company, he kept his problems to himself, reluctant to reveal his worst fears. Perhaps he had changed, for it felt right to tell them what troubled him and benefit from their advice.
“I am all ears.” Hart raised his glass.
“And I,” Tate said.
“You know, of course, of the circumstances of my father’s and mother’s deaths,” Brendan began. “What I failed to mention was the mental instability in my family’s past, or how my father was judged to be mad when he shot my mother and himself.”
The two men knew, of course, about the tragedy. Hart swallowed and cast a glance at Tate. They kept silent as Brendan told his heart-wrenching story. “And to add to my concerns are my megrims, which my father also suffered.” He shrugged. “So, as you see, my future is uncertain.”
“You could never become violent,” Tate said, squeezing Brendan’s shoulder in sympathy. “It isn’t in your nature. Why, the last time we fenced at the academy, I won with ease, and you accepted it like a lamb.”
Brendan laughed. As if he’d been carrying around a great weight, lightness settled on his shoulders. “I happened to be late for an engagement with a lady. Otherwise, it would have been a different story, my good fellow.” He appreciated Tate’s handling of such a sensitive matter, and his kindness, but he resisted pointing out that neither had his father revealed a violent nature until that vile day.
“And what of this lady?” Hart asked. “You need a good woman in your life.”
“There is a lady. Miss Laura Peyton, Baron Netterfield’s sister. We danced at the Grosvenors’ ball. I would very much like to spend my life with her. But we cannot marry. There’s a real chance of me being cursed with madness.” He took a deep sip of wine. “And I will not bring an heir into the world and pass on this affliction.”
Tate shook his head. “While I understand how you feel, Brendan, I can’t agree. A wife will lighten your concerns. Miss Peyton seems charming. Ianthe knows her. I saw them talking together at the Brookes’ ball.”
“The Brookes’ ball?” Brendan asked, an edge to his voice. “I suppose there were a dozen men hanging around her?”
