Marjorie Farrel (14 page)

“It is Major now, I’ll have you know,” said Robin, trying to tease things back to normal.

A soft knock at the door made both of them pull back.

“Come in,” said Simon, feeling his way back to his chair.

Cranston brought in the tray of brandy and glasses, and Simon dismissed him after instructing him to set it down in front of Robin.

“Robin, will you pour?’’ he said to his friend, who had gone to the window, his back to the room, to hide the tears that had risen. He was happy for the distraction, and busied himself with the glasses and liquor. Both men had been moved by their unprecedented show of affection, but were relieved to turn to a familiar ritual that enabled them to regain their composure.

They sipped their brandy in silence for a minute, and then a question of Robin to Simon about where he had been wounded led to an animated discussion of the battle. They forgot the time as they became engrossed in military strategy, until Robin, hearing the hall clock chime five, exclaimed, “My God, I must go. I am engaged to escort Barbara to the Stanhopes’ tonight.’’

“Do not let me hold you back,” said Simon, rising as he heard Robin move.

“I will be back soon ... if I may,” Robin said, still a bit unsure of his welcome.

“No, I think not.”

Robin frowned and began to protest.

“I think it is time for me to return your calls,” said the duke. “Would you join me for a drive in the park tomorrow?”

Robin was amazed and delighted. “I can think of nothing I would enjoy more.”

“I confess to a selfish reason, my friend,” Simon teased. “I need someone trustworthy to tell me when to bow and to whom, so I don’t make a complete ass of myself.”

Robin realized that however coolly Simon had made the request, he was, in fact, quite vulnerable, and it would require as much courage for the duke to face the public in Hyde Park as it did to face the French at Waterloo.

“Don’t worry, Simon, I’ll make sure you bow only to the prettiest young ladies and their mamas. They will be thrilled to see you back.”

“Until tomorrow, then,” said the duke.

When Robin left Simon’s, he drove directly to the Wares’. Judith was awake, and sitting by the small fireplace in the parlor, dressed in her morning gown, which was rumpled from her nap. The mark on her cheek had faded, but her face and eyes were still a bit swollen.

“You look terrible, Judith,” Robin said from the doorway.

“Robin! Did you speak to Francis? How is the duke?” Judith was trembling in her anxiety to find out the results of her outspokenness.

“I saw Simon, Judith,” answered Robin. “He was in Francis’ office when I walked in and he offered me a brandy and soda! Whatever you said to him has done nothing but good. It seems as if he is ready to take some steps back into his old life. In fact, he is calling for me in the morning.”

“You are not funning me, Robin? You did actually speak to him? How did he look?”

“He looked like you and he have spent similar afternoons. His eyes and face looked tired, but there was an air of acceptance about him, and his sense of humor is intact. We were both quite moved at first. We have not talked since June. He asked to ‘see’ me.”

“'See’ you?” asked Judith, puzzled.

“Yes, with his fingertips. It quite did both of us in, I can tell you. I must confess I could destroy a library myself. This shouldn’t have happened to such a man.”

“I know,” said Judith quietly. “I have felt the same way. How did this excursion tomorrow come about?”

“It was Simon’s idea. I think it is his equivalent of leading a cavalry charge.” Robin laughed. “If he is going to return to society, he will do so with a vengeance. I think he wants to get the worst over quickly.”

“Did he say anything about Miss Ware?”

“Not to me, nor directly to Francis. But I think you ought to go as usual on Thursday morning and see how he reacts. After all, he has not directly dismissed you, nor has he paid you. It would be quite natural to return to speak with Francis. I think it would look strange not to go.”

“Oh, Robin, I don’t know if I can face him.”

“Knowing Simon, I am sure he is mortified by his treatment of you. He will have had time to think about it, and after all, he must be grateful to you for being the catalyst.”

“Unless tomorrow is his first and last excursion. What if it doesn’t go well?”

“Simon is not a coward, Judith. I don’t think he will turn and run. He seems determined, and I think tomorrow is the easiest way to let society know he is back. And what could happen? I will be there to signal when to bow, and whom to speak to ... and if there are rebuffs, well, Simon won’t be able to see those who don’t return his bows, will he?”

“So you do not think I made things worse?”

“On the contrary, I think the time was right for someone to confront him. I am sure he will ultimately appreciate your honesty.”

“Do you think he will be appreciative by Thursday morning?” Judith asked.

“I am convinced he will welcome you back with a profound apology.”

“I hope you are right, Robin. Thank you so much for going out of your way to reassure me.”

“It was the least I could do.” Robin rose to go. “After all, you have been responsible for returning my dearest friend to me.” He took her hand and held it between his for a moment, and left quickly, unwilling to betray his feeling again today.

Simon’s chaise, driven by his groom, pulled up in front of the Clarges Street house the next morning. Simon, dressed in his new dark blue coat, fawn breeches, and Hessians, sat next to him on the driver’s box.

“I will hold them, Michael, while you call for Major Stanley. But ask him to be quick, for they are restless this morning.” Simon’s hands closed over the reins, and he felt his grays tossing their heads, pulling at their bits. He had lost none of his authority, however, and knew he had them under control. It was a good feeling, and when he heard Robin coming down the steps, he was tempted to hold on to his own horses.

“The major and I will be returning in a few hours, Michael. You can take a hackney back to Grosvenor Square,” said Simon as Robin climbed up beside him. “I will have to trust this heavy-handed fellow with my horses’ mouths.” Simon reluctantly handed over the reins.

“Heavy-handed! If you are going to insult me this early in the morning, your grace, I’ll have you bowing to lampposts before this ride is over.’’ Robin flicked the whip over the horses’ heads, neatly catching the thong, and they were off at a smart trot.

The park was fairly empty when Simon and Robin arrived, which was why Simon had picked the morning rather than the more fashionable late afternoon. He was determined to show his face, but he knew coping with the ton all at once would only confuse and exhaust him. This way he was likely to meet only a few friends and acquaintances, who would pass the word.

Robin pulled the grays down to a dancing walk, and Simon said, “You will tell me to whom I am bowing, but how will I know where to bow?”

“I hadn’t thought,” admitted Robin. “Why don’t we do it by the clock? I will say, ‘The younger Miss Stanhope at three o’clock,’ and you will turn and bow and smile right into her eyes, and she will then tell everyone that your blindness was a false rumor.”

“By the clock it is, then,” Simon agreed. And for the first half-hour he found himself bowing at two, and one, and four until Robin at last let the horses out a bit.

“Whew! How was that, Robin?” Simon asked, relieved they were moving too fast to do more than tip the whip at an occasional rider. It was a strain locating someone by Robin’s direction, and also suppressing the anxiety that surfaced at being seen while not being able to see.

“You did well, and for the most part were greeted with looks of pleased surprise.”

“Thank you for adding that, Robin. One thing I never realized was how much we depend upon seeing another’s face. I feel quite in the dark, no pun intended, about people’s reaction to me and just assume that they will be afraid or put off.’’

Just then a horseman cantering by glanced casually at the chaise and, pulling up suddenly, turned his horse around and approached them, saying eagerly, “Is that you, your grace? By God, it is good to see you.” Viscount Devenham’s voice was warm and enthusiastic, and Simon felt the tension drain out of himself.

“You were used to call me Simon, Dev,” he said as he leaned toward the voice and reached out his hand. It was a little too far from the viscount, who nudged his horse up and shook it as though he would haul Simon off the seat.

“May I?” asked the viscount. “I haven’t seen you since your return and I, er, we all wondered ...” His voice trailed off. As the younger, less-experienced man, he had been touched by Simon’s friendliness toward him on various leaves, and had called twice since Simon’s return. After two rebuffs he did not have the courage to face someone he admired to the point of hero worship. “I did call, your grace, ah, Simon, but—

“But you were turned away. I know. I have been rather blue-deviled lately. But I would be happy to receive you now, and to beg the favor of your arm at the next gathering we find ourselves at.” Simon had decided that a matter-of-fact acknowledgment of his dependence on his friends would be best.

“It would be an honor,” declared Dev. “Anything I can do to help, I will.”

“Thank you, Devenham,” Robin broke in coolly. “I can’t keep the horses standing, so we will have to move on.”

Simon felt Robin sitting stiffly beside him and turned back to give Dev a warm smile as they moved off. “You sounded rather high in the instep, Robin. That’s not like you.”

“He’s too much like a young puppy, falling all over you.”

“Yes, but I remember being his age,” Simon said, “and following Lord Grey about. I must have driven him mad at times.”

“And anyway,” Robin continued, “you don’t need his arm. You have mine wherever you need it.”

“Oh, no, my friend. I will ask you for help often enough, but I do not intend to abuse a friendship. You must not hover about me or feel too responsible. I suspect it is going to be hard, but I must learn to ask for help whenever I need it, and from strangers too, at times.”

“You can surely use one of your footmen?”

“Oh, I will, must depend on members of my household to get from one place to another. But I have been thinking about this, and it is not fair to expect them to be with me every moment, standing like statues, deaf and dumb, while I socialize. My friends will have to get used to my asking for an arm to dinner, and must also learn to refuse me when they have something better to do or someone prettier to escort. You must promise to be honest with me, Robin, for I could not stand to be a burden to my best friend.”

“I am at your service whenever you need me, Simon. But I promise to tell you if that becomes burdensome or cramps my style.”

“Is there anyone whom you are regularly escorting to dinner? I seem to remember you were quite a favorite with Lady Diana Grahame.”

“Diana and I did enjoy a flirtation, but that is over. She seems to be occupied with Viscount Devenham at the moment.”

“I see,” said Simon, and thought he might have uncovered the reason for Robin’s unusual impatience. From what he had observed months ago, Diana and Robin had been involved in something more serious than flirtation, although only those close to Robin would have guessed it.

“You have never been one to turn hermit, Robin. With whom are you amusing yourself these days?”

“Lady Amelia Lenox.”

“Ah, Amelia. You are not looking for anything serious, then? I had thought you might have come home ready to think about setting up a nursery?”

“There is plenty of time to think about settling down. What of you, Simon? You have even more reason than I to think about getting an heir.”

“Me? I hardly think I would now be attractive to any young woman, except perhaps a plain or poorly portioned one, and I do not want anyone’s pretended devotion. No, I fear I will remain single.”

“And let your cousin Richard inherit?”

“I admit I am disturbed by the thought of that irresponsible fool taking my place. But I do not want a woman’s pity, Robin, and I fear it is pity and not love I am likely to inspire. I would always be wondering why my wife chose to marry a blind man.’’

“I think there are some who might marry you to become a duchess, and a few who might mistake pity for love. But you are no less lovable and attractive because you cannot see, Simon.”

“Well, my head may agree with you, Robin, but my heart does not.”

“Perhaps your confidence will return in time, Simon, and you will not let pride—”

“Pride? I am not proud, but shamed by my neediness.”

“And isn’t that a sort of pride, my friend?” answered Robin as he expertly turned the grays. “In fact ... here, take the reins.” And he thrust them into Simon’s hands.

“I can’t drive, you fool. I’ll run into someone.”

“I’ve taken the edge off them. There is no one in front of us. All you have to do is keep them pointed straight ahead.” Robin handed Simon the whip and sat back with his arms folded. “We could sit here and argue, your grace, but I am ready for a bit of luncheon at the club.”

“Damn you, Robin.” Simon felt his horses’ power through the reins. “You are watching? You will tell me if I need to stop?”

“Of course, you gudgeon. Do you think I want to be killed in my prime?”

Simon touched the grays up to a slow trot. As long as he concentrated upon the horses’ mouths, and not upon what might be in front of him, he found himself filled, not with fear, but with a rising exhilaration. He lifted them to a fast, steady trot, and Robin and he bowled down the path. His arms were aching from the unaccustomed strain, but he was not completely helpless, he realized, and he laughed aloud at the release. After a few hundred yards more he pulled them up.

“That is enough for one day, I think, Robin. It was wonderful to find I am not quite shut out from something I used to enjoy.”

“Tomorrow we will ride, then,” said the major, who was feeling as exuberant as his friend.

“Too fast, too fast. One risk at a time. And besides, tomorrow is Thursday. And I hope my reader, Miss Ware, returns. I have quite an apology to make to her.”