But he didn’t say any of that. He never said anything about any of it.
“Perhaps if you drank the brandy instead of just looking at it you might feel more inclined to talk about whatever is bothering you.”
Carver smirked. “Probably a little too much. I’ve been told I talk a lot when I’m foxed.”
“You do.” Robert pulled his snuff box from his waistcoat. He flicked it open and took a pinch of snuff. “You turn into a flittering schoolroom miss after two drinks.”
Carver laughed, knowing that unfortunately, Robert was correct. “True. But I’m not even sure that brandy will help tonight. A cup is only so deep.” He grimaced and looked up from his glass. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to become so profound.”
Carver tossed back the contents of the glass and felt the familiar burn. He cleared his throat against the sensation and set down his empty glass. “What is it that’s keeping you from your bed?”
Robert’s mouth flattened into a line. “A very pregnant and unhappy wife.”
Carver tried not to laugh. “And what have you done to anger my sister this time? Or do I want to know?”
“I made the mistake of commenting on her growing figure.”
Carver winced. “Bad form, my man! Even I know a comment like that will land you sleeping in the stables.”
“And you are also not married yet,” said Robert. “You will quickly find that when faced with a wife, everything you thought you knew goes out the window. Up is down. Left is right. None of it makes sense. If I comment on her lovely growing midsection, she kicks me out. If I do not comment on it, she accuses me of finding her utterly repulsive…and kicks me out. It all ends with me sleeping in my dressing room.”
Carver could very well picture it. Mary was fiery and opinionated even when she wasn’t with child. He had to admit it was possibly his favorite character trait of hers. Daphney had a fiery temperament at times as well. Ugh. Why could he not seem to go five minutes before his thoughts turned back to the woman?
Carver stood up and walked toward the beverage cart. “It seems to me you are the one in need of a drink.”
“Or three,” said Robert, rubbing his face.
Despite Robert’s sour mood, Carver knew his brother-in-law was still very much in love with Mary. What the man needed was to vent, and that suited Carver’s mood perfectly. Robert could talk and Carver could focus all of his attention on helping his brother-in-law. Conveniently, it would also keep his thoughts away from Daphney and Claire.
Carver filled a glass and handed it to Robert before filling another for himself and retaking his seat by the fire. “Are you happy about the child?” Why not jump right in?
Robert’s expression turned serious. “Of course. Just worried.”
“Worried for your marriage?” asked Carver. “I’m sure you and Mary will pull through.”
Robert shook his head. “No, no. Our marriage is fine. A good fight now and again only makes for a sweeter make up.”
Carver grimaced. “I’ll thank you to never say anything like that to me again.” Maybe this wasn’t a conversation he could have after all.
Robert didn’t laugh or lighten a bit. His face only grew more somber. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anguish showing in the lines of his face. Carver hadn't realize until that moment how much Robert had aged since he’d last seen him. The man was already a good ten years older than Mary, but he had never looked his forty years of age until tonight when the glow of the fire highlighted the lines between his brows and patches of grey on the sides of his black hair.
“She lost a baby a few months ago, you know?” No. He didn’t know that.
“I’m sorry,” Carver offered the weak words, not really knowing what else to say. “I had no idea.” Why didn’t he know that?
“No one knows what caused it…not even the doctor. One day she was healthy and the next…” He didn’t finish that statement, just rubbed his fingers over his brow. “Anyway, she was terribly ill after she lost the baby. Whether it was from an actual ailment or despair, I’ll never know. I’d never seen her so sick before.” He paused, deep creases s
ettling between his eyes. “I was honestly scared for her life.”
Carver leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Why did no one write to me?”
“I wanted to but Mary wouldn’t let me.” Robert gave him a pointed look. “She’s been worried about you and afraid to add to your burdens.”
His burdens? That was ridiculous. Mary could never be a burden to him. Especially when she was needing comfort. She should have told him. He would have been there for her.
“Why the devil does she think I’m so fragile?”
“Because you are,” said Robert.