12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dinner was an awkward affair, with Sir Nathaniel barely speaking to her and her new mother-in-law barely remaining silent. Melior sat to Sir Nathaniel's left with Lady Stanford directly across from her.

Slowly she chewed her food and listened to Lady Stanford pepper her son with questions about the wedding. The woman rarely waited for more than a few words in answer before she asked another. To his credit, Sir Nathaniel remained completely unperturbed by the swiftness with which his mother made her inquiries.

"And did Lord Roberts attend with Algenon?" Lady Stanford looked expectantly at Melior.

She stopped chewing and wondered if she was to answer.

"No, Mother," Sir Nathaniel said. "He is still on his wedding tour."

Mr. Roberts's father was married again? But he had only lost his last wife nine months ago.

Lady Stanford put down her fork. "Ah yes, I had heard he had remarried. What number does this make?"

"Five," Sir Nathaniel said flatly.

"Dear me. Well, I pray this Lady Roberts has a better constitution than the last four. If it were me, I would have run screaming the other direction rather than marry the man—knowing his propensity for burying wives."

A chunk of boiled potato lodged in Melior's throat and she began to cough. Sir Nathaniel shoved her wine glass into her hand. Taking three great swallows, she washed the potato down, but her shock still remained.

"Come now, Mother," Sir Nathaniel said, as if Melior's choking fit were nothing out of the ordinary. "The man cannot be blamed for his wives dying in childbirth."

"Yes, but four of them? I would be terrified to carry that man's child if I were a young lady. Not that he does not supply them with healthy babies that somehow all make it through the delivery, but then the babies suck the life and beauty right out of their mothers."

"Really, Mother. I do not think this is appropriate dinner conversation, especially for Melior."

Lady Stanford glanced at her. "Nonsense. Melior is educated enough to understand the way of things."

She was, but only just. Her mother's lecture from the evening before seemed like years ago with everything that had transpired today, but the information still felt new and foreign. Her cheeks heated.

Lady Stanford gave her a soft smile. "Besides, she may be a mother one day soon. Be happy you married my Nathaniel instead of Lord Roberts, my dear. I am sure he will give you far easier babies to carry."

"Mother!"

Melior peeked up to see Sir Nathaniel's pink cheeks and shocked expression. It was gratifying to see him even more embarrassed than she was. His discomfort entertained her, and she decided to encourage his mother in her prattle as retribution for the discomfort she'd suffered in the carriage.

"And how many children does Lord Roberts have?" She knew a little of Mr. Roberts's family, but only the bits and pieces she'd overheard in ballrooms or when he came to visit Eddie. He had a few sisters if she recalled.

"Eleven," Lady Stanford said.

"Eleven?" Heavens, she'd not realized he had quite so many.

"And all of them girls, save Algenon."

"My word."

"And yet Lord Roberts is not satisfied. Insists he must have a second son should his first not outlive him or provide an heir. So he acquires a pretty, young wife every time he loses the last one, but they only increase his number of daughters."

Sir Nathaniel put down his utensils. "Might we discuss something else, Mother? I hardly think Melior cares to hear about Lord Roberts and his many wives and daughters."

She'd made him squirm. A tiny victory in a day fraught with losses. "I actually enjoy hearing about your friend's family, and it explains a great deal about Mr. Roberts's ease with ladies. He always knows what one is in need of, and he's never remiss on his compliments. He has brightened many a lady's day with his gallantry."

Sir Nathaniel blinked. Once, twice, three times. "I see you have a very high opinion of him."

"Does not every woman of his acquaintance?"

His right eye twitched, and his lips pressed together. "I suppose."

Picking up his knife and fork, Sir Nathaniel began slicing his meat with a bit too much vigor. Melior took another bite of her food, confused by his reaction. She would have thought him pleased to know she did not view all his acquaintances as inferior. Unless… no, it could not be possible.

"Algenon is the very best sort," Lady Stanford said. "It takes a certain amount of saintly patience to put up with that many females under one roof. It is most likely why he prefers to spend the season in London. There are only nine at home now, as Paulette recently married and Henrietta is sure to follow within the year, but there is enough perfume and petticoats in that house to drive any man to bedlam."

"Yes, he's practically a saint," Sir Nathaniel grumbled.

Melior took another sip of wine to cover her smile. Was it really possible he was jealous after her praise of his friend?

Lady Stanford continued imparting detailed information on each of Mr. Roberts's sisters. She seemed to be a fount of knowledge on the subject. How did the woman know so much if she was confined to the house?

"Tell me, Nathaniel. When do you think Algenon will return from Town?"

"I am sure he will return when Parliament closes as he does every year."

"Even with his father absent?"

"I suppose he might return earlier if his sisters are in need of him, but Lord Roberts should be back before the end of the session."

Melior dabbed her lips. "Where is Mr. Roberts's home located in reference to Havencrest?"

Sir Nathaniel gazed at her while he chewed slowly and she could see it as clear as day in his eyes. He was positively green eyed. A bout of nerves overcame her with his continued intense attention. In order for him to be weary of her praise, he must have something he liked about her. Perhaps he was not as impervious to her looks as she'd once supposed.

Lady Stanford filled the silence in the room. "His estate is five miles west of here near the village of Pertly. It borders the Harris property."

"So close?" she asked. "It is no wonder Eddie spends so much time in this part of Kent."

"Yes, and if we carry our point, perhaps he will buy an estate of his own right here in Maidstone," Sir Nathaniel said.

With what money? If Uncle Percy produced heirs the townhouse would be all the family had to their name and Osborne would be the inheritor. Eddie would need to take up a profession. Perhaps he should have already. Their inheritances had never been a guarantee, she could see that now.

"That would be lovely," Lady Stanford said. "Can you imagine how delightful it would be to have all your little ones growing up together?"

And now they were back to discussing babies. Melior understood Sir Nathaniel's exasperated expression as he stared at his mother's grinning face.

"Well, I believe I shall turn in early." The older woman placed her serviette next to her plate and motioned for the footman to bring her bath chair. Her unspoken encouragement was as clear as a cloudless blue sky.

Melior's hands began to tremble.

Sir Nathaniel rose and scooted his mother's chair back. "Good idea, Mother, I believe I shall do the same. It has been a long day."

The tremble in her hands spread up her arms and Melior decided it would be best to put down her utensils before she dropped them.

"Oh, do not leave on my account. At least stay and have some dessert."

"If you insist. Here, Mother, let me help you."

Melior watched in awe as he gingerly lifted his mother out of her seat and into the bath chair. At least he had the capability of tenderness, even if it did not extend to her.

After giving his mother a peck on the cheek, he said, "I hope you have a good night's rest."

"You too." Then turning toward her, she said, "Good night, Melior."

"And to you, Lady… I mean Mama."

Lady Stanford's smile warmed a place in Melior's heart that had not been touched in a long time. When had her own mother last shown even a modicum of maternal affection toward her? Probably before her third season, if she recalled correctly.

Mother had never been happy about her plans to delay marriage. But why jump at the first opportunity when she could have her pick of men if she simply waited long enough?

Her eyes strayed to a still standing Sir Nathaniel, his expression stony as he waited for her to retake her seat. She sat, wondering where she would be if she'd have taken her mother's advice.

Married to old Lord Braithwaite, probably. Actually his widow. He'd pursued her before Lady Braithwaite had stepped out of mourning for her first husband. Mother had been livid when she'd refused to encourage him, but Melior simply could not bring herself around to the idea of marrying a man three times her age—even if he was as rich as a king.

The footman set a piece of cake in front of her and the strong smell of brandy wafted up from the fruity concoction.

She glanced at Sir Nathaniel in confusion.

"I know you did not get to celebrate with friends, but every bride should at least have a bride cake."

He did not smile, but the expression upon his well-sculpted face was one of compassion. The small gesture of goodwill melted her heart. She'd thought she had cried every tear she could possibly produce today but her eyes began to make more. It took all her efforts to keep them from falling.

"Thank you," she said with a little sniff.

He only grunted and placed a bite into his mouth. Carefully, she did the same. She was not one for large amounts of spirits so she could only eat a few bites, the rich strong taste making her stomach a bit queasy. She set her fork down.

"Is it not to your liking?"

"No… I mean yes, I like it. It is only that I find I am quite full." She was quiet for a moment. "Thank you," she said softly.

He watched her as he ate. It was the most he'd looked at her all day, save for when they'd stood before the vicar. The attention made her conscious of every imperfection in her appearance.

The redness was most likely still evident below her nose and eyes. The simple hair style she'd asked the maid to do and the way the pink gown covered everything on her except that dratted wide square about her neck and chest that she'd asked her seamstress to expand.

"You appear fatigued. Perhaps you would like to retire early as well."

"I—" What did he mean by retire? Her mother's lecture from the night before filled her heart with dread. It was the duty of every young woman, at least according to her mother. Melior strangled the serviette in her hands. "I am tired. Very tired. I think I will retire."

Perhaps he would let her be tonight. She stood and he stood, both staring awkwardly at each other. Then she curtsied and rushed from the room.