by Anne Ashley
They continued their inspection of the stalls and side-shows, but none of the attractions, or the variety of gaudy fairings for sale, tempted Robina to untie the string of her reticule and part with the small quantity of money that Daniel did not doubt she carried with her. Only when they approached a brightly coloured caravan, with a sign on its door bidding one and all to enter and have their fortunes told by the all-seeing Madame Carlotta, did Robina hover for an instant, a wistful expression fluttering over her features before she made to move on.
'Go on,' he prompted. 'Why not indulge yourself?'
'Oh, no. I couldn't possibly do that. Papa would never approve. He considers all fortune-tellers charlatans.'
'Undoubtedly some of them are,' Daniel agreed, still gently preventing her from moving on. 'But any father who takes the trouble to teach his eldest daughter both Latin and Greek,' he continued, making use of a surprising fact he had discovered himself since their sojourn in Brighton, 'must surely consider her intelligent enough to form her own opinion, and would not, I feel certain, deny her the opportunity to do precisely that.'
Seemingly much struck by this viewpoint, she appeared to debate within herself. 'What harm can it do? Go along, child,' he urged again, and she finally gave way to temptation, quickly moving away before he had the opportunity to delve into his pocket for his purse and pay for the harmless experience.
Evidently the gypsy was a true professional, conveying her predictions with lightning speed, for in no time at all, it seemed, Robina was descending the caravan's steps, a look of wry amusement on her face.
'Let that be a lesson to me to attend my father in the future,' she announced, as she reached Daniel's side and, without the least prompting, slipped her arm through his. 'Papa was absolutely right, as he so often is—a fool and his money are soon parted!'
'You must allow me to pay. It was my suggestion, after all.'
'Certainly not!' she countered, retaining a firm hold on his arm, thereby preventing him from reaching for his purse without an undignified struggle. 'It will serve as a salutary lesson not to be so gullible in the future.'
'From that I infer you are not altogether pleased with what yours holds in store.'
'On the contrary, if what I have just been told is to be believed, it seems I am destined to enjoy a truly blessed existence. Madame Carlotta told me precisely what any girl would wish to hear.'
'Which is?' he prompted, unable to prevent a twitching smile at the wry cynicism.
'Oh, the usual highly improbable things—my path will very soon be crossed by a tall, handsome stranger. Both adventure and danger lie ahead. Whatever that is supposed to mean! Madame Carlotta didn't choose to divulge any details for some reason. Now, what else did she tell me?' Her finely arched brows drew together for a moment. 'Ha, yes ! Not too many weeks will pass before I will find myself married to the man of my dreams. Furthermore, I am to give birth within a year to the first of the three sons my husband and I are destined to have during our long and excessively happy life together.'
Daniel turned his head away, thereby concealing his expression of utter delight. Three sons, by gad! he mused. And here I would happily have settled for just one.
The future was beginning to look very rosy indeed!
Chapter Four
Although she most certainly did consider that she had been more than a little foolish to waste so much as a single penny of her small allowance on having her fortune told, Robina was destined to experience a change of heart before her second week in Brighton had drawn to a close, and was even to begin to wonder whether Madame Carlotta truly did possess the rare gift of second sight.
The week turned out to be a very hectic one, with many more people arriving in the town and many more visitors calling at the house. Invitations were received in increasing numbers, and in the middle of the week Lady Exmouth arranged the first of several small and informal parties she planned to hold that summer.
Well into middle age she might have been, but the Dowager proved that she was certainly not behind the times by ensuring that the trio of musicians hired for the evening played a selection of waltzes.
Although the dance had nowhere near achieved universal acceptance, it was being performed increasingly at private functions. Nevertheless, woe betide any young woman embarking on her London debut caught swirling about a room on a gentleman's arm. She might well be considered fast, thereby risking social ruin.
This, however, Robina considered, hardly applied in her case any longer. She had behaved with the utmost propriety throughout her Season in London, and as it was highly unlikely that she would ever be privileged to enjoy another, unless she married well, her reputation was hardly likely to suffer to any significant degree as a consequence of performing the risque dance at a private function.
None the less, she was very well aware that her mama, not so complaisant, nor anywhere near as forward-looking, as the irrepressible Lady Exmouth, would have staunchly disapproved of her taking part. Surprisingly enough she didn't allow this fact to deter her. After a brief battle with her conscience, she agreed to partner Daniel, a gentleman who, she was swiftly beginning to realise, possessed the innate ability of persuading her to do precisely what she knew she really ought not to do.
The instant he placed one shapely hand lightly on her waist and captured her fingers gently in the other, Robina was reminded vividly of that morning when she had paid a visit to her very good friend Lady Sophia Cleeve at Berkeley Square, and had witnessed the dance performed for the very first time. It had been Sophia's intention to ask her brother to help demonstrate the steps. Unfortunately Lord Angmering had unexpectedly left town, and Sophia, never easily thwarted, had swiftly secured the services of her personal groom.
Robina had suspected at the time that her good friend had not been as indifferent to the handsome man swirling her about the elegant drawing-room in Berkeley Square as she had tried to appear, and that Sophia had been in a fair way to losing her heart. That the groom had turned out to be none other than the Duke of Sharnbrook was a fact known by very few; and although the fashionable world at large had been surprised by the speed of their engagement, no one who had attended the small, very select party, held at the Duke's ancestral home, had doubted for a moment that the newly betrothed couple were genuinely in love.
All this, of course, Robina was forced silently to concede, had little to do with the strange reaction she now found herself experiencing as Daniel expertly swirled her about the salon. It wasn't as if there had never been any physical contact between them either, she reminded herself. His lordship had never failed to offer a helping hand to get in and out of a carriage. Somehow, though, this experience felt completely different.
By the time Friday evening had arrived, and she found herself once again comfortably established in his lordship's well-sprung carriage, Robina had managed to convince herself that the peculiar fluttering in her breast and the increased pulse rate had been the result of nothing more disturbing than a natural nervousness at performing the waltz in public for the very first time, and had nothing whatsoever to do with her partner's prolonged and wholly masculine touch.
The explanation was reasonable enough as far as it went, but it could hardly account for the fact that, when her hand had been claimed a little later for a second waltz by a very charming male guest, she had experienced no reaction at all. She had decided, however, not to dwell on this very curious detail, and had succeeded up to a point in thrusting it from her mind.
She was very much looking forward to the evening ahead. It promised to be most enjoyable, not only because it would grant her the opportunity of furthering her acquaintance with several people she had met in London, but also because it meant that Lady Exmouth would be reunited with the hostess, a friend of many years standing, and one whom the Dowager had not seen for more than two decades.
'Am I correct in thinking that Lady Phelps, like yourself, has just one son?' Robina enquired when there was a lull in the conve
rsation.
'Yes, that's right, dear. Just one of the many things we were destined to have in common throughout our lives.' Leaning back against the squabs, her ladyship quickly relapsed into a reminiscent mood. 'We took the matrimonial plunge within a month of each other, both marrying men much older than ourselves, and both sadly losing our husbands within weeks of each other. We were destined to have just the one child too, although Augusta had to wait many more years before her marriage was finally blessed. I have never met her son Simon, but am reliably informed that she simply dotes on the boy.'
'Lucky Simon,' his lordship remarked sardonically. 'I was little more than a poor, neglected waif, quite unloved.'
'Yes, and it shows, I'm afraid,' Robina responded, somehow managing to keep her countenance, unlike the Dowager, who offered her opinion of her son's grossly inaccurate remark by giving vent to a very unladylike snort.
'You were thoroughly spoilt. Your dear papa was nowhere near strict enough with you. Prematurely grey I went because of you, my boy! You were forever into mischief,' his own very loving mother declared. 'Still, I would far rather have had you that way than like poor Augusta's son. I gather he was something of a weak, sickly child, forever suffering from some ailment or other. That, I suppose, is one of the reasons why Augusta and I saw nothing of each other after Simon was born. That, and the fact that she married an Irish peer, and visits to England were, understandably, few and far between.'
'That and lack of funds, you mean,' his lordship corrected, revealing not for the first time in Robina's presence his streak of ruthless honesty. 'It is common knowledge that the late Lord Phelps was a dissolute rake and inveterate gambler. It was only his marriage to your friend Augusta Davenport that saved him from ruin.'
'True, I suppose,' her ladyship was forced to concede. 'From what I have gleaned from the letters Augusta and I have exchanged over the years, her son fortunately does not appear to have inherited his father's weaknesses. He spends most of his time painting and writing poetry, I believe.'
Daniel was decidedly unimpressed, as his expression clearly showed. 'Byron has a deal to answer for. Since the publication of Childe Harold every Tom, Dick and Harry fancies himself a dashed poet! Look at the rubbish we were forced to endure at Lady Tufnell's soiree in London. Never heard such a load of twaddle mouthed in one evening in my life!'
'Oh, it was not as bad as that, Daniel,' her ladyship countered. 'The trouble with you is that you completely lack a romantic soul. One or two of the offerings were most moving, don't you agree, Robina?'
'Unfortunately, ma'am, I find myself quite unable to offer an opinion.' There was just a suspicion of a twitch at the corner of her mouth. 'If my memory serves me correctly, on that particular occasion I was seated beside your son, and found my attention all too frequently straying in my attempts to prevent him from dropping off to sleep.'
The only response to this gentle teasing was a deep rumble of masculine laughter, a sound heard far more frequently of late, and one which was music to the Dowager's ears.
How glad she was now that she had used every ounce of self-control she possessed, going against her natural inclinations, and had not interfered in the developing relationship between her son and Robina, she reflected, turning her head to gaze sightlessly through the carriage window.
Anyone observing them together might be forgiven for supposing that a wonderful bond of friendship had developed between them. Which of course was precisely what had occurred. There was undeniably a genuine fondness on both sides, which was plain for anyone to see, but certainly no hint of any lover-like affection between them. Daniel treated Robina as he might have done some favoured younger sister, and Lady Exmouth very much suspected that Robina, in her turn, was beginning to look upon Daniel as the brother she had never been blessed to have.
She smiled to herself. Her son, with the patience and understanding that was so much a part of his nature, was being immensely cautious by slowly, very slowly, winning the regard of the woman he had chosen to marry. There wasn't the smallest doubt left now in Lady Exmouth's mind that her son truly did wish to marry the parson's daughter, though precisely why he was determined to do so was not quite so clear.
Unlike his first wife Robina was a very restful young woman, who always appeared sublimely content sitting with Daniel in companionable silence in the library or the parlour, reading her book. She was intelligent too, and was not afraid to venture an opinion on a great many important topics. On several occasions during the past two weeks the Dowager had come upon them when they had been debating some controversial issue, something which her ladyship could never recall Daniel ever doing with his first wife.
Yes, she mused, there wasn't the slightest doubt that they were admirably well suited. There wasn't the least doubt in her mind, either, that Daniel was managing to conceal the depth of his feelings, though whether he had, against all the odds, fallen in love for the second time in his life was a question which she was quite unable to answer.
The carriage drawing to a halt brought an end to the Dowager's pleasurable deliberations. She did not delay in alighting and leading the way into the house her childhood friend had taken for the duration of her stay in Brighton. She was very much looking forward to the reunion and, quite naturally, was prepared to find her friend vastly altered.
It just so happened, however, that it was not the first glimpse of Lady Phelps, now pale and gaunt, and looking every one of her five-and-fifty years, which almost brought Lady Exmouth to an abrupt halt in the doorway leading to the elegant drawing-room, but the sight of the blond-haired Adonis standing sentinel-like beside her.
Lady Exmouth was not so advanced in years that she could no longer appreciate a fine specimen of manhood. She had known numerous truly handsome gentlemen in her lifetime, and yet she could not bring one to mind to equal the young man standing before her now, bowing over her hand with seeming effortless grace. With his perfectly proportioned physique and a face whose features resembled those on some classic Greek statue, he might almost, she decided, be described as beautiful.
She tried to assess her protégée's reaction to such a rare specimen, but apart from a slight widening of those clear blue eyes, Robina betrayed no visible sign that the outstanding young man was having the least effect on her young heart.
The arrival of more guests ensured that exchanges of pleasantries were kept to a minimum, and Daniel, smiling a trifle wryly, shepherded the ladies further into the room. 'I am well aware that appearances quite frequently are deceptive, but I wouldn't have supposed for a moment that our young host suffers unduly from ill health.'
'No, indeed,' his mother agreed. 'Quite the contrary, I would have thought, unlike his poor mama. The years have been less than kind to dear Augusta. How thin and jaded she has become!' She turned to Robina. 'What did you think, my dear? Did you not find Lord Phelps excessively handsome?'
'Yes, very. And singularly lacking in conceit too, I noticed, which I rather admired.'
The Dowager nodded in agreement, secretly pleased by this response. She ought to have known that a sensible girl like Robina would not permit herself to be beguiled by a handsome face. 'And what is your opinion of the young man, Daniel?'
'I'm afraid, ma'am, I am a poor judge of masculine charms. Or lack of 'em, as the case may be,' he returned, taking a glance about him. 'Ha! I see your faithful admirer is amongst the guests. If you'll excuse me...'
Was that a hint of impatience she had detected in his pleasantly mellow voice? Robina wondered, following his progress across the room. She didn't doubt for a moment that he, like anyone else, experienced it from time to time, and anger too, she supposed, though she had noticed precious little evidence of either during the time she had been privileged to know him.
She transferred her attention momentarily to the portly Baronet whose companionship Daniel had sought. A close friend of the Regent's and a long standing member of the so-called Carlton House set, Sir Percy Lovell had by all accounts been a seri
ous contender for the Dowager's hand many years ago, and had remained a lifelong friend.
Robina had met him on several occasions during her Season in London, and again here when he had been amongst the guests at the Dowager's dinner party on Wednesday evening. She rather liked him herself, and wasn't in the least unhappy to find herself a short time later seated beside him at the highly polished table which had been prepared for the dozen or so privileged guests who had been invited to dine before the party officially got under way.
'I must say,' he remarked, helping himself to generous portions from several of the tasty dishes on offer, 'Augusta has arranged a decent spread here. Or her excellent cook was determined to display her skill.' His eyes momentarily strayed in their hostess's direction. 'By the looks of old Gussie she don't concern herself overmuch about food any more. Never was more shocked in my life than when I clapped eyes on her earlier! To look at her now you'd never believe she was a plump little pullet in her younger days. Still, the years bring some changes to all of us, I suppose.'
Robina could not forbear a smile at this. The years had certainly wrought changes in Sir Percy, if what she had been told was true. He had been, by all accounts, a fine figure of a man in his youth. Sadly this was no longer the case. A carefree bachelor existence and an undoubted weakness for the finer things in life had taken their toll on his physical appearance. His girth, according to the Dowager, had more than doubled in size during middle age, and his permanently high colour was testament to his love of fine old port and brandy.
'I think Lady Exmouth was slightly shocked by the changes she perceived in Lady Phelps too,' she divulged. 'But, as you remarked yourself, people are bound to change in two decades.'