Fern stopped and caught his forearm, forcing him to turn and face her. “What do you mean?”
He smiled and kept walking, although he slowed his pace. “When I was growing up, I was the only working-class boy in my level, so I learned to be the best at everything I could. Sports, my classes… I thought if I could be better, I would be left alone. I wasn’t entirely correct, but at least I felt better about myself.”
“Surely you don’t feel that way now.” Fern wanted to pull him into his arms, to hold him close and cry,I understand, I feel the same way!But she kept her distance. He was not hers to hold.
“I do, but it’s less common. Oxford may admit men like me, but we do not truly belong.” He cast her a sideways glance. “I’m grateful for you, though. I wouldn’t have managed to impress Rose without your help.”
The words extinguished the glow starting to burn in her chest. She wrinkled her nose to fight the urge to cry. “What about me? Do I make you feel like you don’t belong?”
He stopped and looked directly at her. “Of course not, Fern. It’s easy with you.”
He watched her for a moment, then shook his head and continued along the path. Fern wondered if he had trulyseenher, recognized her as the woman he met at the ball.
“What happened with Rose?” Alex said gently as they walked back towards the meadows. “You said she didn’t want to come along.”
Fern hesitated. Jealous as she was, she couldn’t paint her sister in a bad light. “Rose has many friends, so it can be hard for me to find time to spend with her. She seemed so excited about punting when we discussed it last night, but today…” She pulled Alex’s jacket tighter as a shiver passed through her. “She wanted to be with her friends.”
“You couldn’t go along? I would have eventually concluded you had abandoned me to the elements.”
Fern smiled, the slightest lift of her lip. “Rose’s friends don’t like me. I don’t blame them, honestly, I don’t find them terribly interesting.”
“No discussions of literature then?” he asked, his tone joking. “Or of great questions in philosophy?”
Fern snorted. “Lord, no. Can you imagine? Transitioning from dances to Descartes?”
“Did you truly read theMeditations? Entirely in French?”
“I did,” she retorted, more than a little irritated by his doubt. “Have you read them in French?”
“No,” he replied. “According to my tutor, my French is deplorable. My father insisted it was a gentleman’s language, so I had lessons as a boy. Sadly, it never stuck.”
“Does your father speak French?”
She saw a flicker of something dark pass over his expression. “He didn’t, no. He passed away three years ago, suddenly. An apoplexy.”
Aside from a distant aunt and grandfather, Fern had never lost a family member to death. The idea of her father disappearing from her life terrified her. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I can’t imagine.”
“I spent my childhood wanting to be exactly like my father, then he wanted me to be everything he wasn’t. Educated, connected, wealthy.” Alex released a humorless laugh. “When he died, I forgot how to apply myself for a while. I wondered why I was working so hard when he would never see it.”
“You work for yourself, then.”
“And my mother.” His eyes brightened at her mention, bringing a smile to Fern’s face. “She still lives in the same house in Birmingham. I established a trust for her with my portion of the proceeds when we sold my father’s shop, and she lives off those funds. It’s the least I could do for her.”
“And you as well?”
When he spoke she could hear the notes of his Brummie accent piercing through his carefully practiced speech, as though discussing his family had pulled him back home. “Not so much, but if I’m frugal, I can make do. After my Da passed, I needed to support her, to pay her back for…”
Fern looked at him closely. “For what?”
Alex hesitated, kicking a stone ahead of him on the path. “My father gave up so much of his own happiness to give me a good future. He worked himself to an early death to support me.”
She touched his arm, bringing him to a halt. “It wasn’t your fault. You must know that.”
Shrugging, Alex continued walking, allowing Fern’s hand to drop from his arm. “I can make sure she lives comfortably.” He cast her a sideways glance. “It’s not the lap of luxury like you’re used to.”
Fern flinched. “I am aware most people do not live the way I do, and I’d never—”
“I’m sorry,” Alex interrupted. “It was rude of me to say that. I suppose I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about being…different from most of the students here. Most devote their lives to scholarship for the joy inherent in learning, while I have my mother to support.”
