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Chapter Thirteen
December 23, 1817
“Well, I suppose that’s that,” Bartholomew said as he alighted from the hired hackney cab with Luke hard on his heels. “She’ll either think me a great hero or despise the sight of me.”
“Are you talkin’ ‘bout the reason I ‘ad to sit out in the corridor at that rich nob’s office?” the boy wanted to know as he trotted along beside him.
He was in too chipper of a mood to let Luke’s style of speech affect it. Instead, he capped a hand to the boy’s shoulder and gave it a good-natured shake. “Aye.”
“About Miss Cowan?”
“In a roundabout way.”
“What the devil does that mean, Captain?”
This time he couldn’t ignore it. “Language, Luke.” He led the lad through the North gate into Hyde Park, for they were there to test the theory that their newspaper boats would float.
“Isn’t what I say part of some language?”
Was there no end to the boy’s cheek? But Bartholomew couldn’t help but grin. He’d be a challenge. “Indeed, but with so many ladies about, you can only go about saying such things to your friends or other men.”
To his credit, Luke glanced about the area. “Seems to me there ain’t that many females around right now. Don’t they like the cold?”
“They don’t if they’re delicate.” Though dark gray clouds set heavy in the skies, there was no precipitation to speak of yet, though if he were to wager on it, snow was in the offing. Light vestiges of the stuff clung to the dying grasses throughout the park from last night. “And let me tell you a secret. Every female is delicate, even the ones who have independent streaks. That’s what makes them so irresistible, for we wish to protect them.”
Luke frowned up at him. “What’s irresistible?”
“It means they can’t be overlooked, or that a man finds himself wishing to be wherever they are.”
The boy snorted. “I ain’t never gonna feel that way.” He shook his head. “Miss Cowan is nice but I don’t need one. Just like you, Captain.”
Heat snuck up the back of Bartholomew’s neck. “That’s not a bad idea right now, Luke. However, you’ll change your mind later in life… like I apparently have,” he added in a lower voice as they walked along the foot path.
“Someone needs to slap sense into you then,” was all the boy said.
Wisely, Bartholomew kept his own counsel. The more they walked through the park, light snow flurries danced through the air. “If this keeps up, we could very well have snow on Christmas.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Oh, quite.” He touched the brim of his beaver felt top hot when they passed two young ladies strolling in the opposite direction. “When I was a child, my father once took my mother and me into the country. He often enjoyed hunting when he wasn’t on the sea. That year it snowed so heavily the drifts came to my waist. We all had great fun throwing ourselves down into it. Or making forts and the like.”
“Do you think it will do that again, Captain?” There was a wistful note in the boy’s voice. “I might like to see that.”
“Never stop wishing, my boy.” His mood was so uplifted that he ruffled Luke’s hair. “What happened to your cap?”
“I don’t know. I’m always losing it.”
“And your mittens?”
The boy shrugged. “Guess I lost ‘em too.”
“Well, no matter. We’ll buy new ones.” He remembered his childhood and how difficult it was to keep track of his belongings. “This looks like a fine place to sail our boats.” Gently, he guided Luke off the path and toward the edge of the Serpentine. In the dull grayness of the day, the water was an uninspired gray-green.
“I hope they don’t sink straight away.” He withdrew the folded boats from where he’d stowed him inside his shirt and then kneeled at the edge of the water.
Bartholomew gazed with fondness at the boy. Suddenly, a wave of warmth and love came over him so strongly that he gasped from the force of it. His heart thudded hard, and for the first time since arriving in London that week, he understood his purpose of being. He was a father. It was his responsibility to raise this boy up right and mold him into a fine young gentleman who would make something of himself.
“Well, do they float?” he managed to ask from a throat tight with emotion. Fatherhood was a heady task to be sure and much different from the Navy, but he was ready for the position.
