Page 39 of The Rake and Lady Julia
"My thanks," Rob replied, though he felt rather sulky when confronted by his friends' indifference toward his plight.
Were they not concerned? Did they not worry for his soul, which was torn nearly in two?
As though sensing his upset—or perhaps noting his petulant lip—Penrith cleared his throat again.
"My apologies, Montague," he said, "It's just I find it rather difficult to keep up with all the ladies who use your heart as a shuttlecock. Who was it this time?"
Julia's name was on the tip of his lips, but for some reason, Rob held back. He did not mind sharing with the two when a courtesan, actress, or opera singer rebuffed him, but his love for Julia had been more than just a carnal urge. It had been a thing wrapped in dreams of a future, a marriage, children who looked remarkably like him, and someone who might comfort him on his deathbed. Far weightier dreams, than his usual longing for a tup.
"No one," Rob shrugged, turning his eyes toward his drink, "I say, did you happen to see who was running at Newmarket? Lord Purdue said he has a fine stallion in the mix, but I could not see it listed."
Talk turned, as it often did when men and brandy mixed, to horseflesh, and Rob sat back in his chair, as Orsino and Penrith argued over the expected form for next week's races. Penrith was absorbed by their chat, but Rob could not fail to notice that Orsino kept casting him sidelong glances, which were laced with what looked to be concern.
After one drink, Penrith took his leave, most likely to return home to dream of Miss Drew, leaving Robert and Orsino alone to wallow in their misery.
"Well," Orsino said, as the footman materialised with a fresh decanter, "Do you want to spit it out?"
"Spit what out?" Rob asked, all innocence.
"I know the look of a man who is suppressing his feelings."
"Fancy that," Montague commented mildly, "Could it be because you yourself are the master of that particular art?"
"This isn't about me," Orsino groused, irritably, "It's about you. You said you r heart was broken, and you've a look on your face that would make a widow weep for you. What happened?"
"I offered my heart to a lady. A proper lady," Rob clarified, seeing Orsino's raised brow, "And she rebuffed me."
"Why?"
"If I knew that, I wouldn't be so morose," Rob grumbled, but he thought for a second, before continuing, "She said it is because of my family—it would not work, because her family...er...do not get on so well with mine."
It was to Orsino's credit that he did not say anything in reply this, when it was now blindingly obvious just which lady had stepped all over Rob's heart.
The duke frowned, as he pondered, and not one to be left out, Rob also frowned, allowing his mind to drift, as he awaited sage advice.
"A family is a big thing to rescind, in the name of love," Orsino finally said.
"We would make a family of our own," Rob argued, but Orsino batted his protests away with one enormous hand.
"A lady has to be certain, if she is being asked to give up so much," Orsino continued, before pausing.
The duke looked Rob in the eye, his cheeks a little rosy as he spoke.
"Montague, I—"
Mumble. Mumble. Mumble.
"I beg your pardon?" Rob asked, as he wondered if, perchance, he had wax in his ears.
"I—" Orsino began again, before descending once more into mumbles.
"What?" Rob asked, slightly perplexed.
"I love you," Orsino roared, causing several heads to turn their way.
"Lud, man," Rob grinned, "Keep your voice down, people will talk."
The duke rolled his eyes, his face now puce with embarrassment.
