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Mrs. Mackenzie rose and ushered the men to take their seats. William watched Pippa avoid him, looking everywhere but at his face, it seemed. He’d thought they had just shared a moment when he came into the room, but apparently she wanted to believe differently. He needed to get her alone and ask what had happened to alter her opinion of him.
But how was he to accomplish that?
“Shall we retrieve the cards?” Mac asked, following the men to the seating area. “Does anyone enjoy playing?”
Roger lit up. “I’ve been known to dabble.”
William swallowed a scoff. Yes, dabble. If that meant losing hundreds at the faro tables on a regular basis. At least coming to Devon had been good for Roger’s pocketbook.
“Shall we play a round of whist?” Mabel looked about the room as if counting the guests. “Or speculation?”
“I can sit out and watch,” William said. Perhaps if Pippa did the same, they would have the opportunity to speak.
She looked up and held his gaze. “I would love to play whist.”
“Wonderful. Would you like to partner me?” Roger asked.
Pippa turned her brilliant smile on him. “I would like that very much.”
Cards were sent for, and the table put together. Mac opted to sit out and moved closer to William’s chair. He leaned back and stretched his legs out before him. “Has your father enjoyed returning to his old house?”
No. He complained of the beds, the chill in the air, and the lack of comforts more than Roger. “He has grown accustomed to a different quality of life in Dorset, so I think the cottage has been uncomfortable for him.”
Mac’s confused brow asked the question that he was too polite to voice. If he was more comfortable in Dorset, why has he moved back to Collacott?
William shifted in his seat. He really needed to cease fidgeting or he would give himself away for the fraud he was. “He has really enjoyed seeing old friends and being in the place where he spent his youth. I wondered if it would be difficult for him to return to the place where he married my mother, but he seems to be glad of the good memories.”
“Does your mother still have family here?”
“No, she never did. She was orphaned young and worked as a maid in a house in Melbury.” William spoke the truth with no shame. He was not afraid of where he’d come from. His father had made good money as a smuggler and clawed them out of a life of labor and drudgery. A few good investments later, and the Blakemores never needed to work again.
They continued to smuggle for other reasons. Or so Father said. William was struggling to determine what those reasons could be.
Now he needed to turn the conversation back toward Mac. “Have you missed the navy?”
“I miss the ocean sometimes, and the men. But that is part of the reason we chose this house so close to the sea. It has kept me near the water and the salty air I missed when I lived more inland.”
“Perhaps that is what I need, as well,” William said. “A house near the sea.”
Mac looked surprised at this admission. “Have you been considering leaving the fishing industry?”
“I’ve enjoyed it, but I’m not yet sure if it is how I want to spend the rest of my days. I considered farming, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”
“There are plenty nearby who would be happy to teach you. I have a great man who manages our fields. Mr. Winthrop. I can set up a meeting with him if you’d like to go over your options. He was at your fields that day.”
“I recall meeting him.”
“He’s quite knowledgeable. Our land had been neglected when we moved here, and Winthrop knew exactly how to bring it back and make it fertile again. It takes skill to farm here. But you can learn.”
“I would like to,” William said, and his chest warmed with the reassurance that he meant those words. He imagined himself working his own land and the satisfaction that alone could bring. “If your man doesn’t mind teaching, I should like to learn.”
Mac’s face split into an amused smile. “He enjoys sharing his knowledge. Trust me, you are the one doing him a favor.”
William laughed, and a small glimmer of hope sprouted in his chest. A bright spot of light shining on his future and the possibilities waiting for him. He could make a home and a life here, and for the first time since coming to the damp cottage and uncomfortable straw mattress, he believed he just might be happy as well.
He watched the group on the other side of the room as they continued to play whist, and his gaze traced Pippa’s profile. Would she be interested in the life he wanted to lay out for himself? Could he tempt her to Ravenwood Cottage and a humbler life than the one she was accustomed to? He had his savings; they would never be poor. But he didn’t imagine he would ever call himself a wealthy man, either.
