Chapter Eleven #2
“He was always entertaining,” she said hesitantly.
“The brother just younger than he, Layton, enjoyed larks every bit as much but had a more somber mien. The neighborhood often remarked on the oddity of the younger of the two being better suited to the role of heir. Of course, Layton was heir to his own estate through his mother. And Ph—Lord Lampton—grew into his role, as unique as his approach to it has proven.”
How was it that this conversation, focused as it was on other people, continually struck at the heart of his own experiences and uncertainties? “The son best suited to a role is not always the one to assume it.”
That brought her searching gaze to his face once more. “Do you not consider yourself ‘the son best suited’ to the role you have assumed?”
“I was the younger son. The part I have been given should never have been mine.” He could hear that his voice and tone had grown more tense, more clipped. That always happened when he spoke of Evander. He didn’t seem able to prevent it.
She turned her focus to the flowers they walked past, not speaking or looking at him any longer.
Had his tense response wounded her? He’d not been unkind in his words, but it was entirely possible she had taken his change in tone as a rebuke, as an indication that her conversation was not welcome.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
They simply needed to choose a different topic, return to the light banter they’d been enjoying.
“Miss Hampton.” A man’s voice echoed from up the path.
Her attention shifted in that direction. She didn’t speak but seemed pleased to see the new arrival.
The man reached her side and offered a quick bow. “I have come to check on the children. Those from Farland Meadows are also here, both having developed fevers. Having all three in the same place simplifies their care.”
Miss Hampton didn’t respond verbally but did indicate with a quick dip of her head that she approved of the arrangement.
“Their location is also very fortunate for me as I have the opportunity of seeing you.”
She blushed. Linus did not like that at all.
The man eyed Linus. He thrust out his hand. “Dr. Scorseby.”
Doctor. A physician. Linus grasped the offered hand firmly. “Lieutenant Lancaster.” He was retired now, so “lieutenant” was not entirely appropriate, but it was the only impressive claim he could make for himself.
“Army or navy?” Dr. Scorseby asked.
“Navy.”
“What has you on dry land?”
Linus glanced at Miss Hampton. Quietly, he said, “The company.”
“I wish I had more time for such pleasant pursuits,” Dr. Scorseby said. “I have too many patients depending on me.” He spoke with palpable self-importance.
“Don’t let us keep you from your patients,” Linus said.
Dr. Scorseby turned once more to Miss Hampton. “Am I asking too much to hope you might accompany me to the house?”
He spoke properly but with a hint of less exalted beginnings. Linus had heard that a lot during his years at sea. Those who’d started in the navy young and who’d come from lowered circumstances but had had eyes on advancement and opportunities had often practiced speaking more properly.
What were Scorseby’s origins? Physicians were considered gentlemen.
Miss Hampton spoke for the first time. “I am taking a turn about the gardens with Mr. Lancaster.”
Her reference to their excursion sounded far more like a confession of obligation than a joyful experience. He had been enjoying their time together. Had she not?
“Do not reject the invitation on my account,” he said. “By all means, accompany Dr. Scorseby to the nursery.”
For the length of a breath, she didn’t answer. She didn’t look at him or move. Was she hesitant? Anxious to remain? But the moment passed, and she turned fully to the doctor. She gave a quick nod.
Dr. Scorseby offered his arm. She accepted and, arm-in-arm, walked beside him back up the garden path and out of sight.
That hadn’t ended at all the way he’d hoped. He’d suggested their club of outcasts as a jest, but there’d been some truth to it.
He did feel like the misfit at society gatherings and the member of his family least likely to be missed should he wander back to sea.
With Miss Hampton, though, much of this misery and loneliness disappeared.
She made him a little nervous, yes, but she also made him feel as though he had a place once more.
She had shown him real concern and kindness. She had teased and jested and lightened his mood. He missed her company already. Reluctantly, he returned to the house.
Voices drifted out of the sitting room as he passed.
One, he was certain, belonged to Athena.
He would enjoy some time with his sister; he’d had little enough of it the past thirteen years.
However, like Miss Hampton, she had company of her own: a room full of ladies.
Though he would have preferred to make good his escape, he’d come too far inside to go unnoticed.
The expected bows and curtsies were exchanged.
Athena eagerly urged him to sit near her, which placed him very near Lady Belinda, who was visiting with her mother.
Nearer his youngest sister was Mrs. Blackbourne, who eyed him with the same look of suffocating familiarity she had worn the evening before.
The dowager was among the group as well. While Linus’s sisters were watching him with earnestness and Lady Belinda’s mother eyed him with curiosity, it was pure, unmistakable amusement he saw in the dowager’s eyes. Did she know of his sisters’ plotting as well?
“Aren’t you so pleased Lady Belinda has returned?” Athena asked him.
Lady Belinda was pleasant enough, but he had no desire to raise expectations in that quarter. “A house party is always more enjoyable with lovely ladies present.”
Athena’s smile remained, but she eyed him a bit more narrowly. His verbal dodging, it seemed, had not met entirely with her approval.
Their youngest sister entered the fray. “And we have Mrs. Blackbourne here. I am certain you are particularly pleased to see her.”
Subtlety never had been Artemis’s strong suit.
Fortunately, Linus was a dab hand at maneuvering around shoals. “As she was the Heracles to my ancient Linus only last evening, I find myself a little trepidatious at seeing her again.”
Mrs. Blackbourne laughed.
Artemis rolled her eyes. “She didn’t actually portray Heracles. We were interrupted.”
“Perhaps she has arrived today to finish the job.” Linus only hoped a jesting approach would communicate his lack of romantic interest in the widow. Or Lady Belinda. Or whoever else they brought around to toss at him.
The dowager spoke next. “I’m certain you will be equally pleased to meet two more of our guests who will be joining us this evening.”
He met her eye. Her expression was far too innocent and far too full of laughter. She did know of the Lancaster sisters’ efforts, and she, like Miss Hampton, was laughing at him.
“I am certain I will be,” he said. “I have enjoyed all of the people you have invited to the party thus far.”
Athena and Artemis eyed him with frustration. They had chosen their favorites in the “Find Linus a Wife” scheme and clearly did not like that he’d offered such a general compliment and hadn’t shown any preference for their picks.
Was Persephone participating as well? Although he trusted her judgment more than either Artemis or Athena, having spent more time with her during his shore leaves, he didn’t particularly care for three-against-one odds.
The dowager tapped the seat beside her. He recognized the invitation and sat.
“How was your ride this morning?” she asked.
“Very pleasant. Your youngest is excellent company.”
She smiled fondly. “He is a good boy, though I say it myself.”
“And I spoke again with Miss Hampton. Despite your insistence that she is painfully quiet, we conversed quite easily. Indeed, I was more nervous than she seemed to be.”
She studied him. “What is it about you that has set her so uncharacteristically at ease?”
“I am nothing special.” He didn’t care to admit that, yet it was true.
“On the contrary, Mr. Lancaster.” She studied him.
Artemis and Athena were watching him, as were Lady Belinda and Mrs. Blackbourne.
Beating a hasty retreat proved quite simple. A bow. A word of excuse. A barely dignified flight from the room. He had insisted to Miss Hampton that he could withstand his sisters’ machinations. He was beginning to fear he had been overconfident.