“Thank you. That would be very kind.” Flora sighed. “The trouble is, Miss Reynolds isn’t really…enlivened unless there’s a chance of meeting one particular man. Are you friendly with Mr. Charles Wrentham, Randolph?”
“I’ve met him. No more than that.” A very odd fencing match didn’t constitute an acquaintance. And he wasn’t going to be dragged into matchmaking.
“Robert says the same,” Flora said. “I don’t know just what to do. I could try speaking to Mr. Wrentham again, but if he wished to see Frances, wouldn’t he call on her?”
Randolph wondered what she meant by again. He wasn’t going to ask, however. His mother had no such qualms. “Again?” she said.
Flora grimaced. “I tried to…intercede at Salbridge. It did not go well.”
The man who’d flailed at him at Angelo’s wouldn’t appreciate interference, Randolph thought.
“I can’t just shove him at her,” Flora concluded.
“Perhaps she’ll be diverted if she meets more young men,” said the duchess.
“I hope so.”
Robert strolled in, dress immaculate, air assured. “Has my wife cajoled a pile of money out of you for her orphans?” he asked his mother.
“You all talk about me as if I was some sort of despot,” Flora objected. “I only want to see justice done.”
“And we all love you for it,” said Robert, dropping a kiss on her dark hair. “A thing I am very good at, I might add.”
“Did Herr Grossmann tell you so?” Flora replied with a shake of her head.
“That and more.” Robert pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and showed them a smaller version of the cranial diagram Herr Grossmann had exhibited at the ton party. Handwritten notations had been made upon it. Randolph couldn’t read them from his place by the hearth. “You will be interested, but hardly surprised, to learn,” his brother continued, “that our esteemed phrenologist considers my skull fascinating.”
“I would be surprised to learn that he expresses any other opinion in his sessions,” said Flora dryly.
“Nonsense. My head is extraordinary,” Robert insisted. Randolph noted that his blue eyes were dancing with laughter. “For example, my bump of comparison, which is to say intelligence—”
“How is it to say that?”
“One demonstrates intelligence by making comparisons.”
“I would argue with that definition,” said Flora.
“Of course you would, my love.”
Randolph exchanged an amused glance with his mother. Robert and his wife couldn’t seem to talk without bickering. They appeared to relish the jousting.
“I have little propensity to remain permanently in the same place or residence,” Robert went on, reading from the page.
“You’re nomadic?” replied Flora. “You never said so.”
“Say flexible, rather. The most amiable fellow in the world.”
Flora laughed.
“My alimentiveness is not pronounced, which seems to mean that I am not greedy for food.”
“It’s true. You never were,” said the duchess.
“Not like Sebastian,” said Robert.
“I wouldn’t use the word greedy.”
“No, that would be snatch-pastry.”
“Active boys need fuel,” replied the duchess with a smile. “And Sebastian was more active than the rest of you.”
“Bigger, too. With a longer reach.”
“Did Herr Grossmann call you a jokesmith?” asked Randolph.
“He said I have a bent toward mirth.”
“That was certainly on the mark,” said Flora.
“As well as strong self-esteem.”
“Or vanity,” teased his wife.
“Quite different. A healthy understanding of my own merits. And finally, I have a strong tendency to hope.” He gazed at Flora.
Their eyes held for a lingering moment, then Flora bent to look at the chart. “Look here. Combativeness and conjugality are placed right next to each other in the brain.”
“They are indeed.” Robert’s smile was tender. “In a cluster with friendship and parental love and amativeness. Perhaps there’s something to this new science, eh?”
Randolph watched his mother gazing at them, reveling in their marital harmony. He felt a pang. He would probably never see that pleased expression directed at him. The thought was surprisingly painful.
“Herr Grossmann is putting on an exhibition tomorrow, if any of you would care to see him at work,” said Robert.
“I can’t,” Randolph replied somewhat curtly. “I have to rehearse.”
“Rehearse what?”
His brother’s bright, inquisitive gaze made Randolph wish he’d kept mum. Everyone would know soon enough though. He might as well get the telling over with. “The Prince Regent has ordered me to sing at one of his parties,” he said. “With Miss Sinclair.”
“Ordered you?” exclaimed Flora. “How outrageous.”
“And typical,” said Robert. “Prinny has to get his paws on any new thing. Mark my word, he’ll be telling his guests that he discovered your extraordinary talents.”