Chapter 13- Callum
“Well,” Ellis said, “should I order a suit for a spring wedding?”
He was propped on the sofa in such an ignoble position that all Callum could see when he first entered the room were the tips of Ellis’s stocking feet propped up on a pillow.
“I hardly think such measures are necessary,” Callum said. “You already own too many suits as it is.”
Ellis deigned to put his feet upon the floor and sit upright. “That was not a denial. It must have gone well.”
Callum shrugged and sent the parlor maid scurrying for tea with a pointed look and a nod of his head.
According to his father, there were none who feasted upon gossip like pretty parlor maids.
Callum didn’t care to have the entire household know of his doings.
After the rumors about the book, he had already replaced his valet with someone more decorous and discreet.
Once they were truly alone, Callum said, “I don’t know how well it went, to be honest. She seemed rather shocked to have me as a visitor.”
Ellis frowned. “You in particular, or a visitor in general?”
“I have no way of knowing.”
“Still, I suppose she warmed up to the idea as soon as you started complimenting her?”
Callum frowned.
Ellis raised his eyebrows. “You did think to compliment her, didn’t you?”
“It didn’t come up,” he grumbled, then shook his head. Of all the foolish things, to forget to tell her how beautiful he found her, how interesting! Then again, she had spoken very little. And how was Callum to compliment her wit if the lady wouldn’t speak?
“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” Ellis said in a conciliatory tone. “Did you at least bring her flowers?”
Callum nodded, grateful that he could answer in the affirmative, glad that he hadn’t bungled the thing completely.
“It’s far more stressful than I imagined,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair.
“It shouldn’t be,” Ellis said. “If neither of you fancies the other, there are dozens of other young ladies you could visit.”
Callum frowned. How was he to explain that Miss Margaret Preston was the only young lady who interested him? He couldn’t, not without revealing his secret. And hers.
“I don’t know,” he said falteringly. “I’m rather fond of this one.”
“Are you?” Ellis arched a brow. “I would have thought that her lackluster reception would have put you off of her.”
“Not in the slightest. If anything, her genuine modesty only intrigues me further.”
“There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose,” he mumbled.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Callum snapped, his eyebrow lowering.
Ellis gave a nervous sort of chuckle and held up both hands. “My, you really are set on her, aren’t you?”
“What did you mean about accounting for taste?”
Ellis shook his head, smiling. “It’s only that I do believe you’re the first gentleman to pay the lady any sort of attention. If you truly like her, I wouldn’t be discouraged by her shyness. It’s most likely nerves and nothing more.”
Callum still frowned, unwilling to let himself be distracted from Ellis’s words. “Do you know something of the lady that I don’t? Some charge against her character?”
“Not at all. Though there is a hint of mystery to be had in the lady’s Pickwick entry.”
Callum grunted, unconcerned. He had read the paragraph on Margaret in the book, and it had reinforced what he knew about her.
Though the author had jotted something about Margaret’s mysterious depths, Callum already thought he knew what the pamphlet was referring to.
If this Mr. Pickwick was nearly omniscient as some believed, it wouldn’t surprise Callum if the writer had somehow discovered Margaret’s secret past as a washerwoman.
“As far as brothers-in-law go,” Ellis said, “I doubt you could find one who’s wealthier or more dedicated to his sister’s happiness than Cavendish.”
“Giving him a familial title is a bit premature.”
Ellis flicked his hand through the air as if Callum’s protests were inconsequential at best. “If you set your sights on a lady, I have no doubt you’ll catch her eventually. You have legs long enough for the chase, that’s for certain.”
The maid returned and fussed with the arrangement of the tray so long that Callum was required to give a low clearing of his throat so she would scurry off again.
Ellis poured for them and glanced at the doorway she’d disappeared through. “Forgive me for saying so, dear cousin, but the domestic lot who inhabit this house seem to be a bunch of gossips or spies.”
“If they’re spies, they’re bound to be dreadfully disappointed,” Callum said. He took up a shredded chicken sandwich and ate it in two bites, washing it down with scalding tea.
“You’re probably right. Whoever sent them would fire them immediately after reading their first week’s reports.
” He adopted a falsetto and added, “Mr. Buckley slept till eleven, then wandered round the library in his stocking feet until he realized he doesn’t care for reading, at which point he lay on the sofa in a sort of drunken stupor until two p.m., at which point he requested a heaping tea tray to solve the problem of his crooning stomach. ”
Callum rolled his eyes. “How like you to think that it’s you they were spying on and not me.”
Ellis grinned. “You are far more boring than I am. The only interesting thing you’ve done, that I can tell, is to visit a young lady who wasn’t altogether excited about the prospect of your arrival.”
Callum frowned. “I wouldn’t say it was all that bad.”
“And yet, you haven’t told me to order a suit. Any other lady would have had your promise before you left from beneath her roof, make no mistake.”
Which is why I won’t be visiting any of them, he thought grimly. He decided it was best to change the subject. “Tell me, Ellis, what do you know of apprenticeship practices?”
“What a sharp turn down an odd lane.”
Callum shrugged.
“I confess I know very little,” Ellis admitted. “You know very well that all of my study in regards to honest labor has been pointed at how to avoid it.”
“Too true.”
He chuckled. “Do you remember that time your father handed me a shovel and set me to digging a ditch?”
Callum’s face lit with the delight of the memory. “Of course I do. I had to hear you whine about your blisters for the following week.”
Ellis held up the hand not grasping a teacup. “These hands were meant for finer things than digging ditches.”
“You sound as spoiled saying that now as you did back then.”
“And yet the truth is timeless. Out of the mouths of babes—”
“I believe you were fifteen at the time, Ellis.”
He shrugged, the same perpetual glint of mischief in his eyes. “Of course, digging the ditch was one thing. Filling it in the next day was quite another.”
Callum laughed. “I’ve been on the end of that punishment more times than I would like to admit.”
“I’m still not sure what I did to earn your father’s ire.”
Callum shook his head, grinning. “You know very well what you did.”
Ellis gave a sneaky smile. “Of course. I just wanted to know that you remember.”
“It isn’t every day that someone slings a handful of mud to the back of Mr. MacCubbin’s head.”
“He certainly deserved it,” Ellis said crisply, sitting up with better posture. “He called me a right dunderhead as he was riding by. Said I had nothing in my head but cotton-wool!”
Callum burst out in great peals of laughter. When he finally caught his breath, he said, “So that was your charge against the man?”
“Well, yes,” Ellis said, frowning. “I was too embarrassed to repeat what he’d said at the time, but I promise—I heard him clear as day.”
“He was calling the horse a dunderhead. He was famous for affectionately talking down to the horses as he trained them.”
“Oh dear.” Ellis stared down into his cup of tea for a few moments. “That does shine a different light on things, I suppose.”