Chapter 20 #2
“I totally agree.” Cecily nodded.
“You cannot agree. You’re not even on our team,” James scoffed.
“I do not need to be on a team to recognize a conspiracy when I see one.”
William, who had lost the last four hands and had grown steadily quieter throughout, was looking between James and Isadora with an expression that had shifted from mild irritation at losing into something far more thoughtful.
“How long have you two been doing that?” he asked.
“Doing what?” James said, in the carefully even tone of a man who knew precisely what and had decided to make William say it regardless.
“That. Just now. The—” William gestured in the same vague, encompassing way Letitia had. “Whatever that was.”
“We were playing cards.”
Heat climbed up Isadora’s neck before she could do anything to stop it. She gathered the discarded cards into a pile, fully aware that not a single person at the table was fooled by the activity, least of all Cecily, who was watching her with a smile.
“It’s only cards,” she said.
“Mm,” Letitia murmured.
“It is genuinely only cards,” James concurred.
Isadora noticed, because apparently she noticed everything about him now, that he did not quite meet William’s eyes when he said it.
William looked at his sister.
“New rules,” Letitia announced. “Everyone, pay attention.”
No one paid attention.
* * *
The morning was cold enough that James could see his breath, which he found he did not mind.
The carriages were being loaded in the drive with trunks and a basket of something Cecily had insisted on bringing for the kitchen. Thomas was trying to load his own boot unassisted into the boot compartment, which the footman was managing with admirable patience.
“Walk with me,” William said.
It was not quite a request.
James glanced toward the house, where Isadora stood on the steps with Letitia, laughing at something, her shawl pulled close against the cold, her breath visible too. He looked back at William.
“Briefly,” he conceded. “Before they’re ready.”
They walked along the gravel toward the edge of the drive where it curved into the trees, out of earshot of the bustle behind them. William had his hands behind his back.
“Good visit,” he commented.
“Yes. It was good for Isadora too.”
“Thomas did not break anything. That’s notable. Last time he was at your estate, he broke a vase that I’m fairly certain belonged to your grandmother.”
“It belonged to my grandmother’s sister. It survived two wars and one French invasion of the original estate. It did not survive Thomas.”
“He’s very sorry about it.”
“He is not sorry about it. He told me yesterday that it was an excellent vase for throwing things into and that he had simply tested the theory.”
William laughed, his breath fogging in the cold. “That sounds like him.”
“He is vocal.”
“He gets that from Cecily.”
“He gets the volume from you.”
William kicked a loose stone off the gravel path with more force than necessary, which James recognized as the gesture he made when he was working up to something and using his feet to count the interval.
“Eleanor asked me this morning whether Violet would remember her when we come back,” William admitted.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her babies remember the feeling of people, even if they do not remember the specifics.” He glanced at James. “I do not actually know if that’s true. It seemed like the right thing to say to a four-year-old.”
“It’s probably true,” James said. “She settles faster when Eleanor’s in the room. I noticed it yesterday.”
“Did you?”
“I notice most things about her now,” James said, keeping his voice light. “It happens, apparently.”
William was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the path ahead.
“You’ve changed,” he noted.
“I’ve inherited a duchy and a child in the space of one evening. I should hope I’ve changed.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
James said nothing.
William kicked another stone. This one went further, skittering off into the frost-stiff grass at the edge of the drive.
“I’ve known you since we were boys,” he murmured. “I watched you build a particular life. Comfortable. Light. Nothing that asked too much of you and nothing you asked too much of in return.” He paused. “I never thought less of you for it. It made sense, given what you had. I understood it.”
“There’s a but coming.”
“There’s a but coming,” William agreed. “But I’ve been here for three days, James, and I’ve watched you in a way I have not had the occasion to in fifteen years.
” He drew to a halt, and James stopped beside him.
“I’ve watched you move your chair without noticing you’d done it.
I’ve watched you finish Isadora’s sentences at the card table like you’ve been doing it for years instead of weeks.
I watched you yesterday morning carry Violet around the breakfast room because she would not settle, and you did not even glance at the clock, which is not a thing the James I grew up with would have done.
The James I grew up with checked his pocket watch if a conversation ran four minutes over what he’d allotted it. ”
“I do not carry a pocket watch as often now.”
“That’s not actually reassuring, given the context.”
James almost smiled.