15. Ambrose
Ambrose
When a sliver of wood pierced my skin, I grimaced.
I pulled it out quickly with a heavy sigh, then continued working a letter into the wooden sign with my chisel.
I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days.
Every little thing reminded me of Zeth, even getting a damn splinter.
I hoped to distract myself with woodworking, but now being in the barn was more troublesome than ever.
I kept remembering laying in the hay with him, with his hand behind my neck, the warmth of his breath against me, the way he kissed me as if he’d lose me…
When I told him goodbye afterward, I thought we would keep our distance, but two days later, I was playing darts with him at the pub.
That also ended in heartache. What a fool I was, letting myself become so comfortable as we played.
I couldn’t help myself around him as we reminisced about the good days with Arthur.
Zeth always had a way of making me feel better when we were younger, and I’d felt that with him at the pub.
I recalled him laughing along with Arthur and Todd when they teased him for missing the dart board. The way his face lit up when he looked at me as if he were… having fun. I enjoyed Zeth’s laughter. It did something to me, made me unravel.
I wondered if his mysterious eyes saw it the same way I did.
He’d certainly been amused playing darts with me, but my mind had been so muddled with alcohol that I could have mistaken amusement for annoyance.
Still, I imagined Zeth’s hands in mine, holding me down as he pressed his lips against my neck.
My mind went further, to waking up beside him and sitting at a table, talking as we ate breakfast together.
Of walking outside through the field after a day of work.
I straightened my back atop my stool and set the draw knife on the workbench.
Zeth hung on my mind too much for me to focus well.
But I managed to complete the last ‘T’ in the word I was carving on the wooden nameplate.
It was for my father, in hopes I could make him proud in some way.
The plate would say ‘Somerset & Sons’. It was my way of apologizing for speaking against his plans for me to own the bank one day.
I would begin training tomorrow, as I had no choice in the matter.
I needed to finally grow up and accept I had a duty to my inheritance, to my family. They were all I had.
Now for a wife…
Father had set me up with several women over the past year, and most of my relationships either ended as friendships or with them hating me.
I’d even had several men come forward with interest in courting, but my father chased them away.
Rumor spread that I wasn’t serious about courting anyone, which made it harder to find potential prospects who aligned with my father’s vision.
I’d heard a few hushed whispers while strolling along the street and at events.
‘Ambrose Somerset, you say? No, he’s a sly one, quick to charm but unwilling to commit. ’
The only family circle I could see myself in was the Washers, but losing Zeth after the barn had crushed my last hope for a happy future.
Whoever I found next to charm, I would have to commit.
Perhaps I could find a lady who was in a similar situation to mine.
Otherwise, I didn’t feel right continuing such deceit.
I rubbed a rough hand down my face, feeling flustered.
I never thought this deeply when I’d been seeing Jamie Clark or Damien Cooligan.
I had some sort of feelings for the drifter who’d come into Everdeen every once in a while for a lay before he would leave the next day.
It took me too long to realize he wasn’t a good man, and thankfully I hadn’t seen him in a few years.
I didn’t even know his name, but none of them mattered anyhow.
Zeth was different from them all. He was never just a fling. He understood me. He cared for me. No one else had ever filled the gaping hole in my heart but Zeth. I could be myself around him, the real Amby, the one who did what he wanted regardless of others’ expectations.
When a horse whinnied outside, I made my way to the door of the barn and looked out, willfully repressing the hope that it was Zeth riding up again. Instead, I saw only dark clouds hanging heavy over the fields, threatening rain. At the house, my father’s carriage waited in the circular drive.
“Amby!”
Emiline’s shout from the house could be heard for miles. She wasn’t timid at all. Well, there went my Sunday afternoon sulking out here in the barn. I was needed for something else now, and I was willing to bet it had to do with Father.
I set the nameplate on the workbench and closed the barn doors with a heavy sigh.
Then I stalked up the grassy hill to the house.
It wasn’t a long walk, but I took my time.
Whatever they wanted required my focus, and I needed to think for a moment before facing Father.
As I met Emiline on the porch, she clasped her hands before her and leaned against the railing.
I glanced from Father’s black carriage to her. “What’s going on?”
“Father wants you to ride with him to Anna’s house.”
I nodded slowly. Of course. Even though Annabelle had established our friendship, Father still expected me to court her. How was I going to tell him that she might be courting Zeth by now?
“Oh,” was all I could get out.
“Hey,” she started, her tone shifting from playful to serious. “You’ve been distant lately, even with me. I don’t like you not talking to me.”
“I’ve been working on something in the barn. You know how I get distracted.”
“Yes, I do. So well, actually, that I know you stay in the barn longer when you’re trying to distract yourself from something entirely. Fess up. Does it have to do with breakfast last Sunday, or Zeth?”
“Shh.” I grabbed her hands and looked over at the door before I cut my eyes back at her. “Why are you bringing him up?”
“Because I like seeing my younger brother happy.” She raised her chin, making me smile. She’d never let me forget she left the womb first, precisely eight minutes before I did. “He asked about you the other day.”
“He did?” My heart picked up, but I shook my head. “Em, it doesn’t matter. Zeth can’t give me children.”
“Oh, yes, carrying on our family bloodline. It’s so important,” she sang dramatically as she released my hands. “Amby, it’s time for you to break free and fly, like Mother used to tell us.”
“Okay, now you’re just getting mushy on me.” I chuckled and looked away to avoid the tears that threatened to form.
We had all been so close to Mother. She was a gentle, loving soul, grounded and steady.
She encouraged us to be wild and free. It’s why she let us run off on our own.
She trusted us, and she wanted us to learn to trust ourselves.
As long as we were home before supper. And we always were.
We couldn’t wait to share our adventures and discoveries with her, and she was always eager to hear them.
But Father? As soon as Mother passed, he took charge the only way he knew how, I suppose, filling our schedules with lessons and nannies. Much of his light and warmth died with Mother, and he became more strict. We fell into line.
“I just want you to know you have a choice, that’s all,” Emiline finally said.
“Well, Somerset sons don’t get to make their own choices. That includes getting back together with old boyfriends.” I sighed, pushing off the railing and making my way to the door.
“That’s the lie you’ve told yourself, Amby.”
Her words stopped me in my tracks. Reluctantly, I turned and waited for her to go on.
Her face was earnest as she continued, “Nothing is holding you back but yourself. This is your chance to break free from Father’s hold.
If you make the decision to shut Zeth out of your life and step up at the bank, I’m afraid you’ll lock the key to your own cage… forever.”
My fists clenched as my sister stared at me with that bold, matter-of-fact expression on her face.
Emiline thought she was right, but she had no idea what I endured with Father.
The pain I went through not to disappoint him.
The loss I felt when his stern words echoed in my ears about his plans.
The threat of losing something I loved so dearly, like the barn. She didn’t know.
“It must be so easy for you to say that,” I snapped. “I’ve seen the way you and Arthur look at each other lately. There’s nothing holding either of you back. If you both wanted to court, Father would give you his blessing, because you’re not a Somerset son .”
The door opened then, making me jump. Father rushed out, looking like a fine, respectable banker of Everdeen as he took out his pocket watch from his vest and peered at it. “Ambrose, I have a day planned for us. Get dressed. I’ll be in the carriage.”
Without waiting for a reply, Father snapped the watch shut and sauntered down the porch steps.
That meant I was on a time stamp. He was giving me no more than fifteen minutes to get dressed.
I turned to my sister, who was fiddling with the hem of her dress.
I deflated with regret, then turned on my heel for the door.
My body felt jittery as I hurried inside and upstairs.
I sponged myself off in my room before quickly pulling on my clothes.
Then I wetted my hair and brushed the top and sides, but it did nothing but curl anyway.
Ready, I placed my cap on my head and grabbed my green wool jacket.
As I went to leave, I hesitated. We were going into town, so I quickly dabbed a bit of perfume on my neck, in case I ran into a certain roguish jackass.