AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘You are reading about a man who is being told to be happy he is not of higher birth—that to be born in a situation of middling life, not poor, not wealthy, is the best. Is that how you feel?’
‘Of course not.’ He turned back to the book, reading again. ‘The writer was correct for Crusoe, but not for everyone.’
‘Wait,’ she interrupted a second time. ‘The older man is crying. You cannot like that.’
‘Perhaps you should not really listen,’ he said, not raising his eyes. ‘But only sit there and pretend—to please me.’ He took a breath, frowned and said, softly, ‘Imagine I am enjoying reading the book and would like to have your company while I do so.’
He continued reading aloud.
Her company, she mused. What an odd thing to say. She intended to tell him she did not want to listen, but when she opened her mouth to speak, his voice increased and his words filled the air. She leaned back in her chair and his tone returned to normal.
She crossed her arms in annoyance, but the story wasn’t so terrible. After a few moments she relaxed. If reading made him happy, she could pretend to listen.
The duke read of the man’s age. He was only a few years younger than Bellona’s age of twenty-two and he was planning to go on a sea voyage. Bellona shut her eyes and leaned back with a sigh the duke could not have missed. She’d been on a ship. If one liked bland sea biscuits and ale—in a gaol surrounded by water—then sailing was the best place of all to be.
Now, the tale told of the young man’s mana trying to dissuade him from travelling. She nodded in agreement. If her own mother had lived, Bellona would never have stepped on the ship and left her.
Bellona shut her eyes and listened, letting her arms relax. His voice could make even the tale of sailing sound pleasant.
He paused a moment, but she didn’t look at him and he continued reading.
She listened to every word and time vanished.
When his voice stopped, her eyes opened.
‘See, reading isn’t bad.’ He handed her the book still warm from his hands. ‘Finish the story and then tell me you don’t like it.’
She challenged him with her eyes, and smiled. ‘I really cannot read English.’ She’d been so determined to forget every word of English her sister had taught her. Forced it from her mind, but now she wished she’d kept the knowledge. Not that she wanted to open a book any more than she wanted her skin scraped with thorns, but perhaps her mind might change.
‘No matter.’ He tossed the words aside. ‘As a gift to you for spending your time with my mother, I will have a tutor installed here.’
‘The dancing master didn’t work out.’ A tutor. She shuddered. Brambles in human form.
The duke’s lids flickered just a bit. ‘I am sure I can find someone you get on well with.’
‘I am not educated. Warrington saw no reason for me to be taught if I did not wish it.’
‘I do not care if that is how Warrington feels. It is a gift. From me to you.’ He spoke as if the words were straight from some ecclesiastical scribe.
‘I will consider it,’ she said finally. It would not take her long.
‘Yes. I am sure you will. In the meantime, I will have someone go to London tomorrow to collect a tutor for you.’
Bellona shook her head, eyes never leaving the duke.
‘Miss Cherroll, if you are to move among society with your sister’s family it would be an asset for you to be able to read. You may wish to look at the caption under an engraving to see what the ladies are laughing about in a shop. Or, like my mother, read your prayer book.’
She nodded. ‘You are right. When that happens, I will learn.’
Three blinks of his eyes.
She smiled. ‘Your Grace.’
‘Miss Cherroll.’ His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back into the chair. ‘You did enjoy Mr Crusoe. I promise you would not need a tutor for very long before you would be reading for yourself.’ He held out Robinson Crusoe to Bellona. She hesitated.
Rolleston leaned forward enough to put it in her hand.
She stared at the lettering and handed it back to him. ‘I know most letters. I know some words.’
He turned the book around. ‘Then why do you resist so much?’
‘You have never met the first mate of the ship that brought me to England,’ she said. ‘I liked him. He does not read. He said he carries his knowledge here—’ she pointed to her head. ‘He does not have time to keep turning pages.’
‘Some of us cannot carry all the required knowledge and would prefer to have more than is allowed in such a small space.’
‘And you see what happened to your sailor,’ she muttered. ‘Crusoe.’
