Chapter Eleven
P
During his ride with Charlie the next morning, Linus discovered he had a lot in common with the young gentleman.
Neither of them had spent much time in London, a place they both found more than a bit tedious.
Though Charlie had benefited from extensive schooling and Linus had spent those years at sea, they shared similar academic curiosity.
Linus spoke of the myths his father had loved so much and that he had learned to love as well.
Charlie told him about his study of mathematical theories.
Much of what he said was beyond Linus’s comprehension, yet the young man’s enthusiasm was contagious.
“Our navigator on board ship used a tremendous amount of mathematics,” Linus said.
“I spent the better part of a year studying with him. It was fascinating, though in the end, I preferred other responsibilities. You might consider that. Nineteen is a little old to begin in the navy, but it is not unheard of.”
Charlie shook his head. “My interests tend to the more theoretical. More academic.”
“I suspect you and my father would have appreciated one another. He thoroughly enjoyed the academic aspect of his studies.”
They had been riding for an hour, and the horses were tired and moving at a slow, meandering pace. The stables had come into view, but they had a little distance yet to cover before ending their morning excursion.
“How did your father support his family on the income of an academic?” Charlie, it seemed, knew something about the challenges of that particular career choice.
“Are you considering pursuing academics?”
“A little.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but the lines in his face said otherwise. This was a topic of some importance to him. Charlie might have been a bit tossed about, but it seemed he wasn’t as lacking in direction as he had at first appeared to be.
“Our family was certainly not wealthy,” Linus said. “But we did have a small stipend from my grandfather’s estate.”
“At the risk of commenting where I’m not welcome, it is rather well known that your family was in far worse straits than being merely ‘not wealthy.’”
That was fair. “Our poverty was not the result of our father’s career choice but rather his decline. Had he been able to continue his speaking engagements and publications, our circumstances would have been much improved.”
No more was spoken on the matter. Linus didn’t push for further confidences.
Evander had often allowed Linus to express his worries and frustrations, patiently listening, not pressing the discussion.
Being in that role now was unfamiliar but not as ill-fitting as he would have guessed.
Evander’s influence could still be felt, even after more than ten years.
But he had never known his brother in the role of master of the estate.
He would not have that example to lean on when he returned home. He would be as lost as ever.
A stable hand greeted them as they approached. Linus pulled his thoughts back to the present, where they belonged.
They dismounted, handing their reins to the stable staff.
No sooner had they begun walking the path toward the terrace doors at the back of the house then Linus spotted Miss Hampton just stepping out.
She wore a shawl and a pair of heavy walking shoes.
He was more than pleased to see her; he was eager.
“It seems Miss Hampton means to take a stroll,” he said. “Does she really walk as often as you said yesterday?”
“All the time.” Charlie brushed some dust off the front of his jacket. “Even when we were all little, she was forever wandering the neighborhood. Philip told me once that she was probably escaping.”
“Escaping what?” Linus asked.
“Home.”
She had told Linus the evening before that she had only two family members and they were not kind people. Charlie’s description of her painted those relatives in an even less flattering light. What must her life have been like if she had avoided home as much as Charlie’s memories indicated?
“Good morning, Arabella,” Charlie greeted her when she came near.
Christian names were not generally permitted between a young lady and a gentleman who were not related. The dowager’s description of Miss Hampton as a friend of the family had clearly not been an exaggeration.
“A good morning to both of you,” she returned. “Did you enjoy your ride?”
“I did,” Charlie said. “Mr. Lancaster let me talk at length about things that could not possibly have interested him. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”
“I have seen Mater listen to you for hours on end, Charlie Jonquil. Do not dismiss that.”
Why that hadn’t occurred to Linus, he couldn’t say. Charlie thought his brothers too busy for his concerns and questions, but surely he felt his mother would listen.
“Why don’t you go offer your mother a good morning,” Linus suggested. “I’m certain she would appreciate it.” And perhaps Charlie would think to turn to her with more of his worries.
“I likely should.” Charlie whistled as he made his way farther up the path.
“That was well done of you, sir.” Though she spoke seriously, a hint of humor touched her words. “I do believe he was going to attempt to infiltrate our club.”
“And what is the point of a club if it is not very exclusive?” His attempt at appearing grave dissolved into something that felt an awful lot like embarrassment. “I am glad you were willing to endure my ridiculousness last evening.”
“I think we all need a bit of ridiculousness now and then,” she said.
Linus didn’t think he’d met anyone who so fully shared his view of things. He was eager to discover in what other ways they were similar.
“How much younger is Charlie than you?” She asked the question with confused curiosity. She didn’t seem to be certain of his own age. That, no doubt, was the result of long days out at sea in the sun and harsh winds that had aged him quickly.
Did she think him haggard and aged? Lud, he hoped not.
“I am twenty-four.” He watched for any signs of shock but, blessedly, didn’t see any. “Half a lifetime spent at sea no doubt makes me seem like forty-two.”
She shook her head. “I would not have guessed forty-anything. And if you know what is best for you, you won’t guess my age near there either.”
His grin only grew. “I know better than to guess at all.”
She pulled her shawl more snugly around her shoulders. “Twenty-three,” she said. “Though a lifetime spent walking this neighborhood in all weather no doubt makes me seem like one hundred twenty-three.”
“That was my next guess,” he said.
She shook her head in clear amusement. “I suspect, sir, that you are something of a handful.”
“Guilty.”
“I will have you know, I have never been difficult a day in my life.” She was teasing, yet there was truth in the declaration.
“I believe you,” he said. “I cannot imagine you being anything but an absolute delight.”
She blushed deeply and immediately. Did the color rise out of embarrassment or because she liked knowing that he enjoyed her company?
“May I join you as you walk?” he asked.
She looked at him once more. “Going for drawn-out walks will make you an oddity in this neighborhood.”
“This seems a fitting course of action for a misfit.”
“Who am I to deny a fellow outcast?” Her smile tugged at him fiercely. She began walking. He moved alongside her. “Did Charlie speak with you during your ride?”
“No. He was silent the entire time. Not a single word.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “There is only one Jonquil who can remain silent for any length of time, and it’s not Charlie.”
“You know the family well.”
“I have spent my life among them.”
Something in her use of among belied the word, as if she had been with them but not truly with them. Heavens, he knew that feeling. He lived among his family but still felt in many ways like an outsider.
“Charlie was feeling a bit down last evening,” Miss Hampton said. “I had hoped he would confide in you.”
“He did a little.”
She looked genuinely relieved. “I know it is none of my affair, but I do worry for him, just as I worry for the dowager and for Lady Lampton.”
“Is Lady Lampton often unwell?” He held his hand up in an attempt to dismiss the question. “Forgive me. I realize that is more prying than I ought to be doing.”
“The two of us missed our calling,” she said. “We ought to have been gossipy matrons.”
“Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “I have been trying to decide what to do with the remainder of my life. I believe you have hit upon it.” She likely thought him inexcusably nosey.
“I am a problem solver.”
She seemed truly at ease with him, laughing and jesting. The dowager had indicated that such openness on her part was unusual. They’d known each other two days. Two. Yet they spoke as easily as if they were longtime friends.
“You’ve lived in the neighborhood all your life, then?” he asked.
She nodded. “The estate that now belongs to my uncle was my father’s. My parents passed away when I was six years old.”
He knew the pain of losing one’s parents. “We lost my mother when I was five. My father died while I was at sea.”
“I am sorry for your losses.”
The mournful empathy in her tone and expression brought a tightness to his throat and a twinge to his heart. He pushed his reaction down fiercely and immediately. Losing his family was not a weight he allowed his mind to carry for more than a moment.
“You must have known the current Lord Lampton while you were young.” An abrupt change of topic but a necessary one. “Was he always so . . . unique?”
A flash of something resembling regret crossed her features. That was wholly unexpected. What in his question had caused her grief, however momentary?