vase.
“Exactly! See? That is the type of work Robin has developed, only… better. On a more human scale.” Unmindful of wrinkling his fine clothes, Marcus pulled up an ottoman to sit down in front of his grandmother, much like he had when he was a child. “He’s brilliant, Grandmother. You should see the things he’s invented. The good he’s done. He’s successfully worked out how to blend minor arcane with science. One of his devices helps a woman walk . Imagine what he could do for the world.”
“I’m sure there were people who said that about Babbage and his ideas,” the dowager murmured, patting her grandson’s hand. “But look where that led him. Look at what he did. He built the Heretic Society and nearly pulled the world down with him—all because of his ego. That is what people will say about your Robin—and don’t think I haven’t noticed you calling him by his Christian name. He was a part of the Society before, albeit not an active part.”
“No, they perverted his designs. Babbage and the others envied a boy’s successes and used them to destroy… to kill.” Marcus shook his head. “The mingling of the two philosophies can be achieved. We do it every day in small things. What Babbage and his cronies did was abominable. That was not Robin. That is not who he was. That is not who he is now.”
“Then that is going to be your struggle, Marcus. To show the ton … to show Britain… the man you believe your friend to be.” She patted his cheek, and he inhaled sharply, taking in her familiar violet powder scent. “That is if you think of him as your friend.”
“He’s more than… a friend, Grandmother.” He couldn’t look up. It was a now-or-never moment, and he’d never felt such a dread, not even when he’d heard of his father’s death. Standing on a precipice, Marcus knew he had to commit—had to step into the nothingness of truth—and have faith he wouldn’t be dashed to the rocks below. “I… have an unnatural fondness for him, Duchess. One might even say that I love him. As a man should love a woman, really.”
“Well, I would imagine the mechanics of that would be different.” The woman cocked her head, the sparkling gems dotting her silvery hair bobbing as she moved. She sniffed at Marcus when he lifted his head, shock dropping his jaw nearly to his chest. “I have been married, my dear boy. Quite happily, to your grandfather. I’ve had children. How they came to be isn’t a surprise to me, you know.”
“That’s… it?” Marcus found himself mimicking his grandmother’s head tilt. He shook it off, still numb from the lingering fear in his belly. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes, that you’re in love with Robin. He’s a lovely boy. A bit eccentric, but that’s to be expected—”
“This is serious, Grandmother. He’s a man !”
“What were you hoping I’d do? Throw myself into a pique of anger? Very well.” She looked around, and her gaze fell on a porcelain shepherdess sitting on the table next to her chair. Picking up the tchotchke, she flung it, unerringly smashing it into the room’s fireplace. Clasping her hand to her powdered cheek, the duchess rolled her eyes dramatically and intoned flatly, drawing out each word, “Oh. Dear. My life is over. My grandson loves a man. Whatever shall I do? The. Horror. The. Shame.”
“ Grandmother— ”
“That wasn’t dramatic enough? My dear boy, if you want a scene, you’ll have to go find one of your brother’s little actresses. Not Brent. He’s faithful. Micah. He’s a rogue of the first order. Much like your grandfather was.” Sighing heavily, she cast a look about the room, then pointed to a ceramic dog on a nearby bookshelf. “Hand me that one. Might as well rid myself of all the ugly things people have given me over the years.”
“Duchess, this is… serious. My loving Robin is a criminal offense. He’s already been framed once. They branded him.”
“Are
“Exactly! See? That is the type of work Robin has developed, only… better. On a more human scale.” Unmindful of wrinkling his fine clothes, Marcus pulled up an ottoman to sit down in front of his grandmother, much like he had when he was a child. “He’s brilliant, Grandmother. You should see the things he’s invented. The good he’s done. He’s successfully worked out how to blend minor arcane with science. One of his devices helps a woman walk . Imagine what he could do for the world.”
“I’m sure there were people who said that about Babbage and his ideas,” the dowager murmured, patting her grandson’s hand. “But look where that led him. Look at what he did. He built the Heretic Society and nearly pulled the world down with him—all because of his ego. That is what people will say about your Robin—and don’t think I haven’t noticed you calling him by his Christian name. He was a part of the Society before, albeit not an active part.”
“No, they perverted his designs. Babbage and the others envied a boy’s successes and used them to destroy… to kill.” Marcus shook his head. “The mingling of the two philosophies can be achieved. We do it every day in small things. What Babbage and his cronies did was abominable. That was not Robin. That is not who he was. That is not who he is now.”
“Then that is going to be your struggle, Marcus. To show the ton … to show Britain… the man you believe your friend to be.” She patted his cheek, and he inhaled sharply, taking in her familiar violet powder scent. “That is if you think of him as your friend.”
“He’s more than… a friend, Grandmother.” He couldn’t look up. It was a now-or-never moment, and he’d never felt such a dread, not even when he’d heard of his father’s death. Standing on a precipice, Marcus knew he had to commit—had to step into the nothingness of truth—and have faith he wouldn’t be dashed to the rocks below. “I… have an unnatural fondness for him, Duchess. One might even say that I love him. As a man should love a woman, really.”
“Well, I would imagine the mechanics of that would be different.” The woman cocked her head, the sparkling gems dotting her silvery hair bobbing as she moved. She sniffed at Marcus when he lifted his head, shock dropping his jaw nearly to his chest. “I have been married, my dear boy. Quite happily, to your grandfather. I’ve had children. How they came to be isn’t a surprise to me, you know.”
“That’s… it?” Marcus found himself mimicking his grandmother’s head tilt. He shook it off, still numb from the lingering fear in his belly. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes, that you’re in love with Robin. He’s a lovely boy. A bit eccentric, but that’s to be expected—”
“This is serious, Grandmother. He’s a man !”
“What were you hoping I’d do? Throw myself into a pique of anger? Very well.” She looked around, and her gaze fell on a porcelain shepherdess sitting on the table next to her chair. Picking up the tchotchke, she flung it, unerringly smashing it into the room’s fireplace. Clasping her hand to her powdered cheek, the duchess rolled her eyes dramatically and intoned flatly, drawing out each word, “Oh. Dear. My life is over. My grandson loves a man. Whatever shall I do? The. Horror. The. Shame.”
“ Grandmother— ”
“That wasn’t dramatic enough? My dear boy, if you want a scene, you’ll have to go find one of your brother’s little actresses. Not Brent. He’s faithful. Micah. He’s a rogue of the first order. Much like your grandfather was.” Sighing heavily, she cast a look about the room, then pointed to a ceramic dog on a nearby bookshelf. “Hand me that one. Might as well rid myself of all the ugly things people have given me over the years.”
“Duchess, this is… serious. My loving Robin is a criminal offense. He’s already been framed once. They branded him.”
“Are
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