Joan Wolf Read Online Free PDF

softened. “He is a delightful child, my lord. So bright. So loving.” She leaned forward in her chair a little. “I told him you would come up to the nursery to see him. Will you?”
    “Yes.” He looked utterly remote as he waited for her to rise and precede him out of the room. Please let him be kind to Robin, she prayed silently as they went up the two flights of stairs to the nursery.
    Robin had taken her advice and scrubbed his face until it shone. As she came into his sunny blue-and-white room with the tall silent figure of his father at her back, he looked instinctively at her for reassurance. She smiled a little and said, “Here is your father, darling. Won’t you come and say hello?”
    Slowly Robin crossed the room until he was standing before them. “Hello... Papa,” he said in an uncertain little voice.
    “Hello, Robin,” the Earl of Dartmouth said gravely. He looked for a long silent minute into the child’s face. The big, candid blue eyes looked back, unafraid. Then the man smiled. “You’ve grown into quite a lad. The last time I saw you, you were still wearing nappies. But you’re not a baby anymore, are you?”
    “No, sir,” said Robin, beaming proudly. “I have my own pony even.”
    “Do you?” said his father with interest. “You must show him to me.”
    Robin looked lit from within. “I will!”
    The Earl stayed in the nursery for perhaps fifteen more minutes, looking at Robin’s toys, examining his schoolwork. Then he turned to Laura. “You must not let me disturb your routine, Mrs. Templeton. I know you and Robin must have things to do. Perhaps you will join me for dinner this evening?”
    Laura was feeling immensely grateful to him for his handling of Robin. She had heard of his earlier indifference to his son. She had sensed a reluctance on his part to come upstairs with her. She had been terribly afraid that Robin was going to be hurt. So now she gave him her extraordinarily sweet smile and said, “Thank you, my lord. I should like that.”
    * * * *
    She dressed for dinner with special care, choosing an evening dress of deep blue silk that brought out the blue in her eyes. Her hair she wore a la Madonna, parted in the center of her head and coiled at the nape of her long slender neck.
    She had no idea what they could possibly find to talk about and was relieved and pleased to find that the conversation did not lag. He had heard some of the details of the infamous trial of Queen Caroline for adultery that had been monopolizing the whole public and social life of the country since August, and they discussed that debacle during the first few courses. “Thank God I was out of the country while that show was going on, he said over the soup.
    “It was dreadful. The entire country simply ground to a halt. All the lords had to attend unless they were ill, recently bereaved, too young or too old, Roman Catholic, or, as in your case, out of the country. The House of Lords was too small to accommodate everybody, so Sir John Soane had to build a couple of temporary galleries. And in the end they threw the case out. The idiotic trial might just as well not have taken place.” She shook her head. “It was so degrading.”
    His face wore what she had already come to think of as its shuttered look. “Unimaginable, that. Airing all one’s dirty linen in public. It doesn’t bear thinking of.”
    “No,” said Laura fervently. “It certainly doesn’t.”
    A pause fell in the conversation as they continued to eat their meal. Laura put down her fork, picked up her wineglass, and regarded him reflectively over its rim. The chandelier shining on his hair struck sparks of gold where the sun had bleached it. “Did you enjoy your Turkish expedition?” she asked. “Godmama said you had become quite an antiquarian.”
    He smiled. “I certainly caught the fever, but I lack the necessary classical background. I copied every inscription I could find, but my lack of Greek and Latin made the task