Chapter 1 #2
Father never did. The words snagged on my tongue, and I bit them down. It would only sting to voice them. “I should speak with Father. I need to leave Town for a while.”
“Leave?” She frowned.
“Yes. A visit to Kent.”
Her frown reversed, as if it were never there. “Kent is lovely. Lord and Lady Paxton live there.”
I was acutely aware. A note sitting on the desk in my chamber had ensured it.
“Indeed?” I feigned surprise.
Mother smirked. She did not believe my pretended ignorance.
“That is not why I’m for Kent,” I added.
“Your father is in his study,” she said, ignoring my retort. “But you must be quick if you wish to catch him. I believe he is leaving soon for some meeting.”
I nodded my thanks and stood. She did as well, pulling me into an embrace to bid me safe travels. And luck. Not the sort of luck I needed, but I supposed it was to be appreciated all the same.
I left the room and made my way to Father’s study. I rapped on the door three times.
“Enter!” his muffled shout echoed from within.
Father sat at his desk, a pair of spectacles perched on his round nose.
Candlelight reflected off the glass and his dark brown eyes, a rich color that mine mimicked.
In truth, I mimicked him in many ways. Mother often mentioned how much I resembled Father, though time had wrinkled his features, and we were both gifted with the kind of fierce determination to achieve our goals that Mother referred to as peak stubbornness.
“Edward,” Father said with a gentle tone. “You’ve that look about you again. Am I to expect another plea from you so soon?”
“I would rather call it a beseechment to your conscience.”
Father chuckled. “Call it what you wish, but my answer has not changed.”
I fought my frustrations, shoving them down to keep my voice calm. “But can you not see how much good we could do? Things need to change. There are people suffering, and I cannot think you wish to sit and do nothing when—”
“Of course, I would like to see change as much as the next man. But I am not a titled gentleman, nor do I have a desire to involve myself in such politics as abolition. It is another man’s dream, not mine.
Besides, it has been but a decade since the Slave Trade Act passed.
Customs cannot flip overnight, whatever the law may be. These things take time.”
I bit my tongue. Was a decade not time enough?
Surely it was. Despite England’s attempts to end slavery on its own lands and the trade of slaves, the world was far from being rid of the disgusting practice.
Perhaps if Father had seen the things I had—had witnessed firsthand the frequent disobedience of the law and how it affected so many lives—he might understand.
Father sat back in his chair and sighed. “It is such an odd thing, Edward. You suddenly becoming so vocal in your views on abolition. Your letters never mentioned any of it.”
Father was right; I hadn’t mentioned my developing viewpoints during my years at sea.
Some part of me had known he would not take my ambitions seriously.
I had never seen him take much of a political stance about anything, too focused as he was on investments that increased our family’s wealth and status.
Father was a good man; I simply did not always agree with his priorities.
“Even a small amount of capital could make a difference,” I pressed. “I will handle all of it. You needn’t spare a moment of time for the cause.”
He swatted the suggestion away. “Let it be, Edward. I’ve worked hard to fill our coffers and ensure both my sons will inherit something, but risking any of it on a political campaign?" He scoffed. “Investments are far more beneficial to our future and easier to predict.”
Our future, but not everyone’s. So many were still trapped.
How many men and women were being ferried across the sea at this very moment, their futures bleak and uncertain, while I sat here comfortably in my family’s townhouse?
Yes, I was grateful for my father’s hard work and the estate I would inherit.
It was nothing compared to what my older brother, Jonathan, would receive, but I had never once resented that.
Not until recently. Not until my father denied me financial assistance in my goal to propagate change. The limited prize money I’d been granted over the years was a paltry sum compared to what I needed to truly make a difference.
My eyes pressed closed. No more slaves. No more suffering, like Adda’s suffering.
I would fight for such a world. If only I could make Father understand.
But how? He had no notion what my last five years of service in the Royal Navy had entailed.
My family thought I had spent my final years at sea serving in the West Indies, a lie told to prevent Father’s disappointment and protect Mother from unnecessary worry.
It did not do to stricken one’s mother with more anxiety than her son’s life at sea already caused.
“I am sorry, son.”
Father’s words drew open my eyes once more. His own shone with sympathy, but not surrender. He would not humor my requests, no matter how noble a cause I believed them. Resigned, I determined to focus all my attention on the goal I could achieve.
I stood. “Then, I will leave you, but I also wished to inform you of my intention to leave for Kent.”
“Kent?”
“Yes, I have business to see to there.”
Father’s brows furrowed. The estate I was meant to inherit was nowhere near Kent, hence his confusion.
He could not fathom what other business I might have, and I had no desire to explain the situation in full.
So, I settled for a partial truth. “Lord Paxton extended an invitation to me. I thought to take him up on the offer.”
This brought a wide grin of approval to Father’s face. “Capital! Am I to gather there is a particular reason for this visit?”
His graying brows rose, and I nearly laughed at the anticipation in his expression. He appeared nearly as pleased as Mother. I had, after all, enacted the beginnings of a courtship with Lord Paxton’s daughter this past Season.
A fake courtship, but my parents remained unaware of that fact.
“It is not a terrible reason to visit, is it?” I said with a noncommittal shrug.
I had no intention of visiting Kenwick Castle to court anyone, especially not Annette Apsley, whose personality was as fiery as her red hair.
She had made her opinion of me quite clear, though I would admit to looking forward to vexing her.
Little else gave me so much joy as causing her nose to scrunch with disdain.
The memory of a kiss—one full of heated passion—pushed its way to the forefront of my mind. It was not the first time in the past four months that I recalled the exchange with Miss Apsley in that darkened alley, nor was it the first time my heartbeat increased in response.
Perhaps vexing her was not the only thing I enjoyed so thoroughly.
Regardless, Miss Apsley was not the reason I would take Lord Paxton up on his generous offer.
As a true abolitionist, the viscount had offered to help me, and if anyone understood my desire to see change and justice, he did.
Lord Paxton may even have information about Hollinsby’s new estate.
That was more than enough reason to visit.
“Very well, safe travels.” Father’s brows drew further together. “Do write to me about Theo’s health, won’t you? And give him my wishes for his recovery.”
“Of course.”
Father and Lord Paxton had been friends since childhood. Given the viscount’s failing health, the request came as little surprise.
I bid Father farewell and raced up the stairs to my bedchamber. I retrieved a carved wooden box from my wardrobe. Inside, on top of a large stack of letters, rested Lord Paxton’s invitation to join him at his country estate.
An invitation that marked the beginning of change.