Her words gave Glory pause, and she fell silent, which gave Phillida an opportunity to launch into a recitation of some of the supposed slights she had received since their arrival. While the duchess made soothing noises, Glory reconsidered her plans.
Perhaps it was the dowager’s encouragement that moved her to make the decision. Or it might have been the duke’s discouragement that made up her mind. But suddenly she was quite certain of what to do. And when Phillida finally ran out of anecdotes, Glory spoke up.
‘I think we shall open next week.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ the duchess said, in obvious delight.
Trying to keep a defiant expression from her face, Glory turned towards the duke, but he did not appear disappointed. In fact, he seemed only mildly curious when he spoke. ‘Why the hurry?’
‘I was going to wait until more work had been done, but now I think her Grace is right. If the villagers see our newly renovated Pump Room and what a wonderful addition it is to Philtwell, they will “come around” all the sooner.’
Although Glory expected the duke to raise some objection or argument, he made no further comment, and her heady sense of triumph began to fade in the face of his apparent indifference. It disappeared entirely when he began to question Thad about the activities available to young people.
Later, when they removed to the parlour, Glory tried her best to get a good look at the man’s boots, but she could tell nothing except that the size of his feet were proportional to the rest of him. And, no doubt, he had an attentive valet to remove all traces of stains, including paint, from his apparel.
Glancing up from her study, Glory caught him eyeing her, one dark brow cocked in question, and she turned away, flushing. Thankfully, the duke did not comment. Nor did he say anything more about Queen’s Well, but played the part of host with ease until the Suttons took their leave, yet Glory could not dismiss the notion that he was playing a part and that the Duke of Westfield was not what he seemed.
Chapter Four
It was so late by the time Letitia was able to visit Randolph’s room that she wondered whether she should wait until morning to seek him out. But, eager to hear his opinion, she slipped through the door and was glad to see a candle still burning near the bed.
‘Are you awake?’
‘Well, if I wasn’t, I am now,’ Randolph grumbled, but Letitia noticed that he put aside a book, so he must have been reading. His ill mood probably was due to his continued occupation of this bedchamber, a suspicion that he soon confirmed.
‘I feel like I’ve been cooped up here for ever.’
‘You can’t come out now, or Oberon will surely make plans for departure, for he has nothing to hold him here … yet.’
Randolph said nothing, but glared at her over his half-spectacles.
‘Only a few more days,’ Letitia promised. ‘Once we have dosed them, I will have more faith in our plans.’ Without giving him the opportunity to argue, she went on. ‘So, what do you think?’
‘I think I’m lucky I didn’t get caught sneaking around the house in my nightshirt,’ he muttered. ‘Your son’s valet seems to have eyes in the back of his head.’
Letitia dismissed his complaint with a wave of her hand. ‘Well?’
He sat back amongst the pillows and sighed. ‘I do not like to discourage you, especially since I am the one responsible for your high hopes, but it does not look good to me.’
‘Why?’ Letitia asked.
‘From what I could see, which was precious little, mind you,’ Randolph said, ‘they do not even like each other.’
‘Well, I would be disappointed if they did,’ Letitia said. ‘I don’t want him to befriend her. I want him to fall passionately in love with her.’
Randolph shook his head. ‘I don’t see how that is going to happen when they are barely civil to each other. You could have dined out on their animosity.’
‘Ah, but both are strong emotions, one sometimes standing in for the other,’ the duchess said. ‘And I’m so pleased that he is feeling something that I must account it a good sign.’
Randolph shot her a questioning look, and Letitia wondered if she had said too much. She looked down at the hands in her lap. ‘He was much affected by his father’s death; I fear he was thrust too soon under the mantle of ducal responsibilities. He rose to the occasion admirably, of course, but he changed. I’ve often wondered if something happened while I was … grieving, but Oberon has kept his thoughts to himself. I worry about him, Randolph.’
He said nothing, and she sought to explain. ‘He began distancing himself from his home and his family, spending more and more time at the town house in London until it has been his primary home for years now. I don’t understand why he won’t visit the place he so loved.’ Or his mother, she did not add.
‘It’s not as though he’s gambling away his inheritance,’ Letitia said. ‘Far from it, for he has several gentlemen overseeing everything from the farms at Westfield to foreign investments. So how does he spend his days?’
When Randolph did not answer, she went on. ‘He attends social functions, frittering away his time at one ball or rout or salon after another.’
‘There are worse activities,’ Randolph said.
‘Yes,’ Letitia admitted, for she had told herself that many a time. ‘But there are better ones.’ And she hesitated to think what his father would say, if he knew that his heir was gadding about among a society he had held in contempt. Her husband had devoted his life to his family and public service, championing charities and improvements, so that he had left the world a better place. Letitia felt her eyes well up at the loss of her husband, far too soon, and she swallowed.
‘Somehow he doesn’t seem the type to be engaged in such frippery,’ Randolph said, interrupting her maudlin thoughts.
‘I know,’ Letitia said. ‘He is far too intelligent. He is well read, but beyond that he doesn’t appear to have any interests.’ Even worse, he didn’t seem to care. Although she assumed that her son loved her, he was so composed that she had begun to wonder if he felt anything at all.
But tonight, there had been little hints that he was not his usual urbane self. Perhaps it was not the behaviour she had been hoping for, but it was something. And she was heartened by it. She rose to her feet and smiled to herself.
‘I don’t believe it will be too difficult to turn this passion of his in a more positive direction,’ she said to Randolph. ‘All we need is for Queen’s Well to work its magic.’
Rain had been battering the windows since breakfast, making Oberon wonder why anyone would want to seek out more water. But he did not refuse when his mother insisted he accompany her to the Pump Room for their private tour. What he had learned the evening before only made him more curious about the Suttons and their dubious enterprise.
‘It appears that Miss Sutton has rather grandiose plans for her spa,’ he said casually, once they were settled in the coach for the short drive. ‘I wonder where she is getting the funding for such a venture?’
‘Oberon, please do not be so rude as to enquire again,’ his mother said. ‘It was bad of you to do so during supper.’
‘I don’t see why, for it is a business, is it not? I would think they would be eager to put their case to prospective financers.’ In fact, Oberon was surprised that his mother, stricken