“Uncle Bobbie!” George, Drew’s son, charged across the room and barrelled into Rob’s leg. The boy was barely two, and a little tyke, but adorable despite it. He still refused to sound his “r”s and thus Rob, known to his family as Robbie, had become Uncle Bobbie to the boy.
Rob bent and caught the child by his chubby arms, lifted him and tossed him in the air once, then caught him and turned him upside down. George laughed in his childish giggle.
His nephew was another good reason to stay, as was his infant niece, whom his sister currently cradled on her arm while speaking with their mother.
Rob loved the children. There was something very endearing about being hero-worshipped by George, something his younger brothers rarely did.
Mary was the sibling he was fondest of. She was the closest to him in age and temperament, and her notorious husband had always treated Rob like a grown man, even when Rob had been scarcely that. Rob had been eighteen when Drew and Mary had eloped.
“And I have been looking forward to your company, as has this rapscallion.”
“Uncle Bobbie, I want to fly!” George cried.
Rob carefully let him descend to the floor, head first.
The boy rolled onto his back, then rose and turned to his papa to be caught up again, in a firm hold. “Your uncle Robbie is not going to swing you about all day, George.”
“Boats!” The boy yelled.
Rob ruffled the child’s hair. “Yes, I will play boats and kites, and ball, George. We’ll do lots of things.”
“Aun’ie Ca’o too.”
“Perhaps.” Drew avoided the true answer.
“We ought to be getting back to John’s, if you are ready, Robbie?” Rob looked at his mother as she stood up.
Mary stood too, with the baby sleeping in her arms. “We shall see you at John’s tomorrow. I believe we have even persuaded Caro to come, because the children are. But I doubt she will speak to anyone but them.”
“I do feel sorry for her. I wish there was more I could do.” Their mother smiled at Mary, then Drew. “But I have no idea how to help her, she always looks so uncomfortable the moment I begin any more personal conversation.”
“She is not so unhappy, Mama. She adores the children. She would be more distressed to think you pitied her.”
Unease swung over Rob, like a cloak settling on his shoulders, as Drew continued reassuring Rob’s mother.
Rob was still unsure about staying, but he did not really wish to remain at John’s. He turned to look from the window again.
His eldest brother’s, his step-brother’s, property was vast. So vast it currently housed every branch of the family. But after the garden party the family would splinter again and each aunt, uncle and cousin would return to their own homes, and John and his wife, Kate, were retiring to a smaller estate for the summer.
Rob could change his mind and go home with his parents or stay with any of his uncles and aunts, but he would still be one of a dozen wherever he went with them. He wanted to spend some time just as himself.
He’d finished at Oxford at the beginning of the summer. He wished for independence. If he went home he would be lost among his siblings, and with his aunts and uncles, lost among his cousins, and being lost among his cousins was worse because most of the men his age were titled. He was not. Rob was the odd one out in his extended family, the only firstborn son without a title or a huge inheritance awaiting him.
Here with Mary and Drew that did not matter. Rob could be himself, independent, respected, and hero-worshipped by his nephew, and it was close enough to town that he could also begin to plan for his future. He could hunt for lodgings in London and move into them in the autumn. All he needed to do then was choose a living. In his mind he had a grand idealistic plan, yet in practice he was unsure how this great feat of his might be managed.
Not that he needed an occupation, he had an income provided by his ducal brother. He’d come of age, he was one and twenty, and on the day of his coming of age he’d received his first quarter’s allowance—but the idea of living off John jarred brutally.
John had everything. He was rich, titled and successful in both the management of his estates and in the House of Lords. He’d lived abroad for several years and explored archaeology in Egypt, returning with his finds as trophies. He drew like a master, sung with the voice of a professional and played the pianoforte equally well.
What do I have, what can I do? Rob wished to make something of himself. To make some mark on the world. To do something worthwhile with his life, but he wished to achieve it through his own efforts. His cousins and brother might mock him as a philanthropist but he did not think it a bad thing to wish to make a difference. He refused to sit back and live on the largesse of his brother. He wished to do something meaningful and inspiring. Something more than being dependent and idle.
He was the grandson of an earl and a duke, but not within the line of inheritance for either, and his father’s estate was small, too small for his father to require assistance. Rob could paint with moderate skill, sing with pleasing countenance, ride as well as any man, and shoot well, but he could not join a regiment, he was still an heir. He was good at many things, but a master of nothing, so numerous occupations were beyond his reach, while his step-brother had set a bar above him that was so high it could never be achieved.
But he still had his plan that would, he hoped, give him the sense of pride in himself that he craved, some separation from reliance on his family and bring benefit to thousands.
He longed for a position in government. That was his great plan—to carve out his place in the political world and create a niche for himself.
Yet to be elected he needed money for a campaign, and he did not wish to involve his father, or John, or anyone else in his family because they would simply offer him one of their pocket seats, which they owned through bribery. The whole idea of that rankled. It would feel immoral, and then again Rob would have achieved nothing on his own. There would be no pride in it. If he were to respect himself, when he spoke out for the poor, he could not do it when everything that had got him to that point had come from the wealthy.
He’d rather give the money he received from John to the poor and bypass himself, if that was the way he had to earn a place in parliament. Perhaps I am a philanthropist. But he hadn’t a clue where to begin without using John’s money. The only detail in the conception of his plan to date was that he did not wish it to become John-shaped.
This summer, therefore, was his time to think things through and develop his method to win himself a place in the governance of the country which had been earned and not inherited.
“Robbie.” His mother touched his elbow.
His thoughts had been a mile away.
Looking at her, he smiled. He’d driven her over here to see Mary. His father was with John, looking over John’s estates.
“We ought to go, and leave Mary to settle Iris and George down for a nap.”
He agreed. He kissed his sister’s cheek, before bending to kiss his niece’s forehead as his finger brushed over the wispy hair on her soft head.
He would stay here. With Mary and Drew, where he did not feel such a lesser mortal, or so lacking in achievements and ability.
Drew slapped Rob on the shoulder. “We shall see you tomorrow, and we shall have a merry time over the summer.”
~
Caro looked out of the open French door at those gathered on the terrace and the lawn beyond it. It had been over three years since she’d first visited the Duke of Pembroke’s. She had felt then as she felt now, overwhelmed, afraid, and yet angry. Nervous sensations tingled across her skin, as her heart raced.
There