Page 12 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

“Miss Robbins.”

I sucked in a loud breath and turned to find Lord Brookhaven fifteen feet away.

Five

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Not at all.” I pressed a hand to my heart.

“I wanted to apologize for my manner last evening. I was morose, thinking of regrets, of things better left in the past.” He stopped and faced me, his hands clasped behind his back. And though it was nearly as late as it had been when we’d spoken on the roof, there was enough light that I could see his expression. His gaze was steady and his features calm. “You will forgive me if I made you uncomfortable.”

“I was not uncomfortable.” I wanted to say that it was the best, most honest conversation I’d ever had with a man, but that would probably makehimuncomfortable.

We stood in silence for a moment, listening to a lone bird singing in a nearby tree. He broke in by saying, “Thank you for stopping to assist the lady and gentleman who overturned in their carriage. It was very good of you.”

“I like to be of service to others when I can.”

“You were not afraid to assist in spite of the blood and hysterics, and I was impressed by your composure. Most ladies would have swooned at the sight of blood, or at least would have been afraid to involve themselves.”

“Perhaps that is because society expects ladies to swoon and be afraid.”

He raised his brows. “But you do not concern yourself with what society expects, Miss Robbins?”

“I care about propriety, but not enough to do things that don’t seem sensible, or when common decency demands something other than what society expects.”

He smiled, his eyes brightening. “What do they teach at that school of yours?”

“Forgive me if I’m being improper.”

“Do you think you’re being improper?”

“No, only honest.”

“I like honesty. There is very little of it these days, as society makes cowards out of men and women alike.”

“Cowards?”

“No one wants to be accused of being different, of holding a different viewpoint or doing something other than what’s expected of them.”

I nodded, hoping he would go on.

“For example, it is expected that I shall be a cold, unfeeling sort of man, just like my father and mother were, that I shall ignore the people who do the most for me, who care about me and treat me well.” A bitter tone entered his voice as he stared past me for a moment. “It is expected that I shall marry a woman from a prominent family and refuse to love her. Nor am I expected to love my own children, but to disdain them until they are seventeen or eighteen years old, then suddenly treat them like slight acquaintances who should know everything about life without anyone ever having taught them. Ah.” He closed his eyes and turned slightly away from me, running a hand through his hair and causing it to stick up in several places.

“I understand.” I held my breath, longing to know more, feeling as if he was expressing just what I had felt many times before, even though our places in life were worlds apart.

He sighed, still staring off into the trees.

Finally, he continued. “Forgive me. It is not my way to talk so much. My nursemaid died a month ago, and I suppose ... she was the closest thing to a mother I had, the most virtuous, purehearted human being I have ever known, and yet I am expected to feel indifferent to her because she was a servant. It is ironic, is it not, Miss Robbins?”

“I am very sorry. It must be very hard to lose someone who meant so much to you.”

His jaw hardened, and a muscle in his cheek twitched.

I quickly went on. “I have never had a servant, but I think we should love the people who love us. God commands that we love everyone, but if someone sacrifices of themselves, generously giving for our good, I believe we should love them most especially, servant or not. But as for grief, I think our society must be very different from the society of the Bible, as people wailed and threw ashes on their heads, sitting in sackcloth whenever someone they loved died. And yet we are expected not to shed a single tear.”

The way his expression changed as he listened to my words, as if he were truly reacting to what I was saying with understanding and agreement, made my heart lift. Wouldn’t Susan shake her head at me and Hattie’s eyes widen in shock if they heard me conversing with Lord Brookhaven as if I were his equal?

“Perhaps we simply do not love to the extent that they did,” he said, eyeing me.