Sir Anthony sat down on the couch. “I see. Well, Master Robin, I have asked her to marry me, and she refuses.”
If that was so then Prue must be mad. “You don’t say so, sir! Well, well, she was ever a fastidious piece. Am I to force her into your arms?”
“Do you think you could do it?” There was an amused smile went with the words.
“I don’t, sir. I am fairly certain that I should not make the attempt. Prue has a knack of managing her own affairs.”
“So I apprehend. She will marry me, she says, if your father proves his claim to be just. Failing that, she would have me know I stand no chance with her.”
A quick frown flitted across the smoothness of Robin’s brow. He spoke the thought in his mind. “Lord, what ails her? That’s a nonsensical piece of missishness.”
“Don’t let it perturb you. Allow me some say in the matter. She’ll marry me whatever be the issue, and she knows it. I’ve said I’ll wait upon Barham’s claim; it’s to solace pride, I take it. But I want her out of this masquerade with all speed. That’s why I’m here.”
“As a family, sir, we stand by each other. It’s for Prue to decide, and for me to support her decision. To say truth, I am a little of her mind. I believe the old gentleman may settle his affairs. Well, we’re bound to him; we’ve played too many of these games to turn our backs now.”
“I don’t ask it of you. I ask only that I too may be permitted a share. You stand in some danger, as I understand. I’ve influence in certain circles; I think I can serve you. If I could get a pardon for you, the Merriots may disappear, and await the issue of the Barham claim in a safe seclusion.”
The door was opened again. “My Lord Barham!” announced a lackey, and my lord came in, all scented, and powdered, and patched.