Somewhat to his surprise, Robert found that he enjoyed having Plato with him at the house party. The little dog was uncannily good company. Something in his solemn gaze seemed to stimulate Robert’s thought processes. Robert most often walked the dog himself, rather than fobbing off the task on a footman. Their rambles through the autumn vegetation never became the dead bore he’d anticipated.
“My brother Randolph is coming for a visit tomorrow,” he told the dog as they moved through the gardens the following morning. “I think you will like him. He is also quite philosophical.” When consulted, the countess had been delighted to invite Randolph, dispatching a groom at once. Randolph’s enthusiastic acceptance had come back with the man. “He’ll stay for the middle of the week, which fits with his clerical duties.”
They passed a bed of Michaelmas daisies. Robert allowed Plato a thorough sniff among the roots. “You don’t suppose Randolph would take Victoria off my hands?” Robert mused. “They both play the pianoforte.”
Plato huffed at an iridescent beetle. It scurried away.
“No, of course not. She hates books. Randolph loves them. And also—” After Victoria’s recent bouts of temper, it had occurred to Robert that termagants like Nathaniel’s fearsome grandmother-in-law did not come from nowhere.
“I never imagined myself as a matchmaker,” he told Plato. The irony of his position did not escape him. “More accustomed to evading lures than setting them.”
They rounded a pretty copse and entered a pergola draped with grapevines. The broad leaves had turned bright yellow with the frost, and they seemed to intensify the sunshine.
Plato turned left at the end of the bright tunnel and trotted along a gravel path like an animal who knew where he was going. Past a clump of shiny holly, Robert spotted Flora and Mrs. Runyon on a garden bench. They were huddled together, and their faces suggested they were engaged in a serious discussion. Robert decided to loop around and come back later to see if he could separate Flora from her chaperone. And here was the other side of the coin, he thought wryly. “Plato,” he said quietly. “This way.”
The small dog did not precisely obey. He appeared to consider the command, evaluate its implications, and agree. They turned and moved along a side path.
“I must tell you something about Anthony Durand,” Flora was saying to Harriet. She’d debated whether to broach this topic, and then decided that one didn’t engage the help of an expert and then keep her ignorant.
Harriet frowned. “I hope he didn’t presume to speak to you.”
Flora shook her head. She tried to decide just what to say.
Harriet raised her eyebrows and waited.
“We both…have a connection to something that happened last spring. I’m sure you remember Lord Royalton’s murder.”
The older woman looked startled. “At the Prince Regent’s card party. Of course. It was a nine days’ wonder.”
“Mr. Durand was a good friend of Royalton. And I—” Flora didn’t want to think of this. She’d had one of her bad dreams in the wee hours. “Did you know Lord Royalton?”
“To bow to in passing. I never cared for the rumors I heard.”
Flora drew a breath and continued in a rush. “Lord Royalton had a perverted desire for children. He entrapped and…used street children.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “Because no one watches over them or minds what happens to them.”
“That’s horrible,” said Harriet, clearly shocked. “Are you sure? How could you know such a thing?”
Flora sighed at Harriet’s response. Disbelief was society’s usual attitude to news like this. “A few years ago, I set up a refuge for such children in London. After a ragged little girl tried, very ineptly, to steal my purse. And I saw how thin she was, and how desperate. And then I began to see her counterparts everywhere. All around the city. Why I hadn’t truly noticed before…” Flora shook her head. “At any rate, I established a place where they could have a bit of…respite.”
“That’s admirable, Flora.” Harriet’s gaze was fixed on her face.
“It seems no more than common decency to me.” The next part was more difficult. “And so, I began to hear these children’s stories. They are, for the most part…terrible.” That was an understatement; a long litany of tragedies that had been poured into her ears haunted her. “And I came across some of the youngsters Lord Royalton had…despoiled and discarded.”
“Ah.” Even the imperturbable Harriet Runyon looked at a loss.
Flora left out the failure of the law, Royalton’s bribes and threats, and the magistrates who could see him only as a peer of the realm, a member of their clubs, related to their wives. None of that mattered now that he was dead. “One of them used a bit of information from me to get into Carlton House and kill Royalton.” No need to add that he’d made sure she couldn’t stop him by tying her up in darkness.
Harriet sat back, frowning. “One can see the…motive, if not condone the action.”
“The boy is long gone. There’s nothing to be done.” Flora didn’t want to argue ethics right now. She just wanted this particular conversation over. “But it’s possible that Mr. Durand might connect me with the matter. Royalton’s friends were furious that the killer wasn’t caught.”
Harriet considered for a long moment. “He’s unlikely to know about you, I would think.”
Flora nodded, reassured. Although she thought the same, her stirring fears weren’t external. Durand’s arrival had rattled her locked mental doors. Behind them yawned a world of darkness, where things were done that fortunate people never imagined.
To admit that felt like weakness. She was not going to be weak! “I just thought you should know,” she finished.
“Very wise.” Harriet patted her hand. “I’m sure nothing will come of it.”
Flora shoved the whole matter back into its interior cupboard and reinforced the mental locks.
A figure appeared at the curve of the path on their left and walked toward them.
“Ah, Lord Robert,” Harriet observed.
Flora watched him approach. How did he stroll as if he ruled the Earth—and at the same time found that idea exquisitely humorous? Did he know he did that? She couldn’t look away. She could still feel his kisses on her lips.
“With his much-discussed little dog,” Harriet added.
It wasn’t the sort of dog anyone would have expected him to have, Flora acknowledged, watching the little animal trot along beside him. Its parentage was a mystery, though the slashes of brown fur along its black flanks were distinctive. The large pointed ears, flopped over at the tips, ought to have been comical, but somehow weren’t. They gave the dog a look of great… Sincerity was the only word that occurred to her.
From the look of things, he’d timed it right, Robert thought as he walked over to the bench and greeted the ladies. He got none of those “We are exchanging confidences and need no gentlemen” glares. “A fine day,” he said.
“They say there’ll be rain later,” answered Flora, then blinked and bit her lower lip.
Her arguing was a reflex by this time, Robert observed with amusement. “Aren’t we wise to be out before the weather turns then?” he responded.
“Your new pet has become a source of fascination among our fellow guests,” said Mrs. Runyon. “One camp claims that it is a calculated eccentricity. Another that he is a sly joke. Both groups scorn the ladies who wax sentimental over your noble act of charity in taking him in.”
“Good lord,” said Robert. He hadn’t heard that last bit.
“Why do you have him?” said Flora.
“I believe I would have to say, rather, that Plato has me.”
“Plato?” Flora looked down at the dog. The two exchanged a long gaze. “I suppose you’ve forgotten that you tripped me, Plato,” she said. When she raised her eyes to Robert’s, he knew she was remembering the delicious moment that came after.
“Why is he staring at me?” asked Mrs. Runyon.
Plato had planted himself at the older woman’s feet, and he was gazing up at her as if her fashionable form hid the secrets of the universe. “He just does that,” Robert replied.
“How extraordinary,” Mrs. Runyon added. “He looks as if he’s weighing every virtue and flaw I possess.”
“Doesn’t he?” Robert was gratified to have his observations about the dog confirmed. “I met a Hindu at Sebastian’s wedding who said that people can be reborn as animals after they die. They call it reincarnation.”
Plato kept staring at Mrs. Runyon. The two women looked at Robert and then back at the dog.
“Are you saying that you believe he was human in a…a previous life?” asked Flora. She seemed torn between doubt and curiosity.
“I don’t,” Robert answered. “But there’s a large country full of people who might.”
Without shifting his gaze, Plato stood and took a step away from the bench. Then another. “It’s as if he wants me to come with him,” said Mrs. Runyon.
“We passed a fine bed of autumn roses back that way,” Robert insinuated. “Perhaps he wants to show you.”
Mrs. Runyon gave him a satirical look. “A few minutes,” she said. “No more.”
Robert gave her a smile and his best bow.
“Come then, Plato, unveil your mysteries,” the older woman said. The dog started off as if he understood, and she followed.
Robert took her place on the bench. It was pure pleasure to sit beside Flora in the autumn sunshine. He wanted nothing more at the moment. But dog walking wasn’t the chief reason he’d skipped the shooting again this morning. “I’ve remembered that Anthony Durand was a friend of Royalton’s,” he said. “I didn’t think of it at once, probably because I dislike thinking of either of them.”
She stiffened and drew slightly away from him.
“I know you don’t like to speak of the murder.” In fact, she’d frozen him out the one time he mentioned it, despite his crucial role in the aftermath. “But if Durand’s presence should make you anxious, know that I stand ready to help.”
Flora turned away. “I’ve told you I don’t need rescuing,” she replied, her voice flat.
“So you have. But should you ever need…not rescuing, you know you can call on me.”
She turned back to frown at him. “Not rescuing? What is that supposed to mean?”
“That I offer you whatever my poor wits—”
“A stupid tonnish expression,” Flora interrupted. “We both know your wits are quite keen.”
“And yet you have had complaints,” Robert murmured, fascinated and rather touched. He also felt a spike of pride at the compliment, an unanticipated triumph.
“I said you were insincere. Not unintelligent.”
“So you did.”
“And I apologized.”
“More or less.”
“So don’t speak to me of poor wits.”
“Very well.” Robert suspected a conversational diversion. “You know you can trust me,” he said. “For anything.”
Abruptly, Flora’s fierce blue eyes gleamed with a film of tears. She blinked, swallowed, looked away.
The reaction was startling, and deeply affecting from a woman so outwardly reserved. Robert wanted to sweep her into his arms. He wanted to guard her from all harm. Flora, being Flora, would rather pretend the instant of emotion had never happened, he thought. And their current situation was very public. Setting his own impulses aside, Robert stretched out his legs and leaned back on the bench. “My brother Randolph is coming for a visit,” he remarked.
Flora glanced at him, and away. Her stiff posture eased a bit. “In-indeed. He is the one I have not met.”
“The clerical Gresham,” Robert said. “His parish is nearby.”
“Is that why you came all this way?”
She was relaxing, as he intended. “One of the reasons.”
“I always wanted a brother. Or a sister. I envy you your large family.”
“Would you say so if you’d always been the fourth to arrive at dame school, at Eton, on the town? There was once a catchphrase in London—Not another Gresham.”
She laughed, as Robert had meant she would. It was as satisfying as entertaining a drawing room full of fashionables.
“Randolph is quite a scholar, though he hasn’t your focus.”
“My limit to one arcane subject, you mean?” Flora sounded completely herself again.
“I do not. I think you’ll like him.”
“Oh my,” said a tinkling voice nearby. “Not again?”
Robert’s jaw tightened. Victoria Moreton stood at a curve of the path, frowning, arms akimbo. “What the deuce?” he muttered. “The girl is everywhere.”
“I suspect she’s following you,” murmured Flora.
He stood. “Hello, Victoria. Did you see Mrs. Runyon? She’s with us.” He spoke loudly, hoping Flora’s official chaperone would hear and return.
“Indeed?” Victoria made a show of looking all around, and finding no one. “Wherever can she be?”
“She walked on to look at some roses,” Flora said.
“Really?” The girl marched over and plumped herself down on the bench. “I can stay with you until she returns.”
His friend’s little sister had developed a real penchant for sarcasm, Robert thought. And a hard glint he’d rarely seen in her soft brown eyes.
“We can have a cozy chat,” Victoria added. She made the two words sound quite threatening.
Robert sat. Victoria half turned away from him. There were moments when being a pink of the ton did not seem quite sufficient, he thought with a touch of amusement.
“It won’t help to ignore me,” Victoria said to Flora.
“What? I wasn’t. I was thinking.”
“Well, don’t expect that to do you any good,” replied the younger girl.
“We were discussing my brother’s visit,” Robert said. “I don’t believe you’ve met Randolph. He’s practically a neighbor now that your family is settled in Northumberland.”
Victoria turned to him. “Olivia says he’s the handsomest of you all. I told her that he couldn’t possibly be handsomer than you.”
“Oh, he is.” He couldn’t place this Olivia. She might be worth meeting.
“You just say so?” Victoria blinked in surprise.
“Good looks aren’t everything,” said Flora.
“Is that what you have found through your wide experience?” Victoria retorted.
Flora snorted, in a soft ladylike way. He couldn’t ask her to keep quiet, Robert thought. And it probably wouldn’t help, even if she would do it.
“Of course, you’re much older than I am,” Victoria added.
“Practically in my dotage,” Flora said before Robert could speak. She cocked her head at Victoria. “Do you ever wonder where those terrifying old dowagers come from?” she continued. “They can’t spring into life full blown at age fifty.”
Victoria looked confused, while Robert was nearly surprised into a laugh at this echo of his own earlier thought.
“What do dowagers have to do with anything?” the younger girl said.
“A great deal, if you ask them,” Flora replied.
Robert met Flora’s eyes over Victoria’s head. But just briefly. This conversation could only get worse. “May I escort you back to the house, Victoria? We’re losing the sun.” Clouds were thickening in the east.
The younger girl hesitated. Flora watched her consider the relative merits of remaining to get in a few more digs or walking off with the object of their…rivalry. Finally, Lady Victoria nodded and rose, taking possession of Lord Robert’s arm. As they walked away, she threw a triumphant look over her shoulder—victor on the field of battle.
Several minutes passed before Harriet emerged at the turn of the path. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “I swear this wretched dog led me around in circles.”
Plato delivered her to the bench and then trotted off like an animal who has done his duty.
“I suppose he’ll find his way back to the house,” Harriet said.
“Plato seems capable of a good deal more than that.”
The older woman nodded. “How unlike Lord Robert to leave you all alone.”
“Lady Victoria happened upon us,” Flora said.
“Oh dear.”
“Only she didn’t just happen, of course. I’m sure she’s trailing after him.”
“Is she?” Harriet pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t have expected that, and I’ve known her all her life. But one can be acquainted with a young person and still be astonished at how they turn out. I’ve noticed it before.”
The clouds were thicker. “We should go in.”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” said Harriet as they headed back to the house. “We’ll have to take more care.”
She was obviously no good at that, Flora thought. She’d known Lady Victoria wouldn’t understand, or appreciate, her remark about dowagers. But she’d gone right ahead. And she wasn’t sorry. Fitting into the haut ton seemed less and less worth the effort. It offered none of the rewards she found in solving an intellectual problem, for example. She could go whenever she liked, Flora thought. She could head home, leaving it all behind.
“Where have you gone?” asked Harriet.
Flora turned to her friend. “You know, I could have invited Lord Robert to call in Russell Square, instead of coming here.” She felt a sudden, intense longing for things to go back to the way they’d been. Or, not quite. She would keep things like kisses. “We could have avoided this silly business with Lady Victoria. I don’t want to fight with her.”
“Would you ask him to choose you over his world?”
“Choose?”
“Have you really considered, Flora? Robert Gresham has carved out a place for himself among the ton, over a number of years. He’s admired, valued. Whatever you think of society, you must see that this is an achievement.”
Her stern tone made Flora blink.
“And then, he worked very hard to enter your quite different social circle. Without much complaint, as I understand it. Or a great deal of encouragement.”
Almost none at all, Flora thought. “It just seemed so unlikely that he meant it. At first.” Her mother had also wondered what they offered the son of a duke.
“It was a rare gift, my dear. Very few men would do as much. Indeed, I can’t recall another.”
Flora looked up. Harriet’s expression was quite serious.
“One of the reasons I was glad to bring you here,” the older woman continued, “was to give you a chance to reciprocate. To show him that you are as…flexible as he was.”
She hadn’t thought of it this way. Flora had been good at her studies, the thing her father valued most in the world. She’d helped many street children. She’d been a steadfast companion to her mother, a bulwark against her anxieties. But here at Salbridge, she was a novice. She made mistakes. “What if I can’t?”
“You can do whatever you set your mind to,” replied Harriet.
“Not lawn tennis.”
Harriet gave her a sidelong glance.
“I could never get the knack of lawn tennis,” Flora added. And so she’d dismissed it as a waste of time. She so hated to fail that she abandoned things she wasn’t good at, she realized.
“I don’t think lawn tennis will be required,” said Harriet dryly. “But perhaps you would like to give Lord Robert some reasons to be proud of you. Here, and now. As he did for you?”
He had, Flora admitted silently, and she hadn’t appreciated that sufficiently until the tables were turned. Lord Robert Gresham had made a vast and valiant effort to adapt to her way of living. If she refused to work as hard, if she gave up and went away…what did that say about her? Nothing she cared to hear.
Flora looked up, her jaw firm. For example, she was certain that it was going to be more difficult than Lord Robert thought to divert Lady Victoria Moreton. She’d better help him.
“Good girl,” said Harriet.