On Equal Ground
Winter, 1807
“What did you think of Miss Grange?”
“She was as expected.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means she was terribly dull, if I may say so of a lady.”
“You may. What of Mrs. Carteret?”
“Calculating eyes.”
“Miss Thornton?”
“Too stupid by half.”
“Lady Leticia Worthington?”
“Who?”
Alfred sighed and threw his hands up. “Really, Robert, it wouldn’t hurt you to be moderately helpful.”
“Ah, helpful, what an interesting word. And what exactly am I supposed to be helping with, cousin?” Robert leaned back in his chair and sipped his brandy slowly.
“You know what! You need a wife!”
“I’ve had a wife. Two, as a matter of fact. I see no need for another.”
Alfred looked stricken. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I will not marry to please the family. Not again.”
“Not marry!” he spluttered. “You need an heir!”
“I have twice married ladies of considerable rank and fortune. I have had three heirs, and they have joined their mothers in the churchyard. No, I have no desire to do it all again.”
“Who will inherit if you do not have a child?”
“My nephew may inherit if it comes to that. He’s a fine boy.”
“But, but…” his cousin trailed off.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have decided to live life on my own terms. I have been a slave to duty these thirty years and now my life will finally be my own.”
His cousin looked at him with suspicion. “You’re not going to marry a milkmaid, are you?”
He laughed. “You do say the most ridiculous things! Where would I even meet a milkmaid?” He chuckled again. “At the barn, I suppose,” he added thoughtfully.
Alfred looked at him seriously after the laughter died down.
“Just promise me you won’t do anything too rash,” he said.
“Define rash,” answered Robert. At Alfred’s exasperated expression, he had mercy on his cousin. “I won’t do anything disastrous, you have my word.”
“No milkmaids?”
“No milkmaids.”
