Page 18 of The Rake and Lady Julia
The insufferable, despicable,charmer, Robert thought darkly.
"...in the end, neither of us got the filly, for the Prince of Wales outbid us both. And who do you think will end up paying for that, do you think, dear boy?"
"We will," Robert replied, on cue.
"He'll raid the public coffers to fill his stables with horseflesh," Staffordshire grumbled in agreement, "And he's already raided them to fill Carlton House with wh—"
"Yes, yes," Robert interrupted, wincing at his father's crude comparison, "Though Parliament will vote against any further funding for His Royal Highness' excesses."
"As I will veto any further funding of your excesses, until you are wed," Staffordshire answered, his thoughts once more returned to the line, "If you are not leg-shackled by the end of this season, I will cut you off. Do you hear me?"
This wasn't the first time that his father had threatened Robert with being cut off—in fact, he had threatened it so many times that Rob had lost count. This was, however, the first time that Robert found himself as marriage minded as his father.
"I have every intention of marrying this season," he answered, rendering his father silent with shock. "In fact, I have the girl all lined up—I just need to persuade her to accept my offer."
"It's not one of your actresses, is it? Not that blowsabella Rosaline, who you ended up in the Serpentine over?"
Rob winced; Rosaline Bowers was a beautiful courtesan that he had spent the better half of the year attempting to woo. In order to attract her attention, he had entered a curricle race in Hyde Park, but had lost control of his vehicle and ended up in the river. The story had been shared widely, earning him fierce reprimand from his father, but at the time, Robert had not minded.
Rosaline was under the protection of the elderly, but extremely wealthy, Earl of Snowdon, and Rob had known from the off that she would not leave him. His attempts to woo her had been more of an attempt to amuse himself, than any act of love.
"She is not an actress," Robert said firmly, "She is the daughter of a very old house—as ancient as our own, if I have my Debretts correct."
"You're telling me," Staffordshire said, slowly, "That not only have you found a girl you wish to marry, but that girl is of blue blood and well bred?"
"Her blood is the bluest of the blue," Rob agreed.
"And why has no announcement of your engagement yet taken place?"
"Well," Rob bit his lip, "I have to persuade her to marry me first, you see."
To his surprise, his father gave a guffaw of laughter that shook his thin frame.
"She's got a brain then," the duke grinned, "If she needs to be persuaded to marry a dolt like you; I like her already. Pray, tell me, who is the lucky girl?"
"That I cannot reveal," Rob ignored the earlier insult, "But if I do manage to persuade this girl—I mean, lady—to marry me, can I count on your blessing?"
"My dear boy, if you can convince any well-heeled lady to leg-shackle herself to you, then I will join the clergy and marry you myself."
"You don't have to go that far," Robert replied mildly, "Though I thank you for your blessing, I shan't forget it."
Robert was, in fact, trying desperately to commit to memory his father's words, so that he might repeat them back to him when he brought Lady Julia home.
"Now," Rob said brusquely, all business, "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
"Anything important?"
"Yes," Robert grinned; he had to learn how to fly.
In 1802, when Robert had been a young lad, his Uncle Virgil had taken him to witness Monsieur Garnerin jump from a hydrogen balloon into the sky, with the aid of a contraption called a parachute.
At the time, Robert, and the thousands of others who had lined London's streets, had been flabbergast ed at the spectacle of a man seeming to fly. It had seemed a dangerous and even foolhardy thing to involve oneself in, yet here was Robert now, about to attempt the same feat.
Except from a smaller height.
"Non," Jean-Pierre Blanchard, a famed balloonist and parachutist, said with a frown, as he surveyed the oak tree which Robert had selected for his jump, "It will not do."
"It has to do," Rob grumbled; he had spent two days trying to track the man down, and he was running out of time.
