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Somehow, life went on, regardless.
He sat on the chair and set the pillow and book upon his lap, shifting the crutches out of the way a bit so they wouldn’t topple over.Paradise Lostby John Milton. It was fairly profound reading, he thought. Quite scholarly and not at all what he’d expected from her, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected. He held the book up so she could see it, a questioning expression on his face.
“The title seemed appropriate, all things considered,” she muttered. Her answer explained the book and her mood. “I do thank you for the crutches,” she added, sniffling just a bit.
“It was the least I could do.”
“Susan and James left for London this morning.”
Ahh. “I see,” he said.
She turned woeful eyes on him—woeful blue eyes swollen with tears. “Do you?” she asked.
He wasn’t sure if her words were accusing or not. “I have experienced disappointment in my life, yes,” he replied. “I do not presume to understand yours, but I can see your grief for what it is.”
She turned her face away from him to stare out the window. “Every young lady dreams of her come-out in Society her entire life,” she said softly. “I confess I have dreamt of mine. But every year since I came of age, there has been one reason or another for me not to have my come-out. All good, completely justifiable reasons, you understand. Concerns for my brother Lucas, who was fighting on the Peninsula and had gone missing and was presumed dead, and then our family’s joy when he returned home. Welcoming nieces and nephews into the family. But Mama and Papa do not enjoy London, and this year’s Season was a gift to Susan and me through family connections, and the war against the French is now nearing an end, and there will be celebrations unlike those in other Seasons, and—” She stopped herself and took a deep breath. “I’ve said too much already.”
Ben was beginning to understand. “Miss Rebecca—”
“I owe you an apology, Mr. Fortescue,” she said in a resolute tone, interrupting him. She wiped her tears away one last time and faced him, straightening up a bit. “I should not have been trespassing on your property, regardless of the agreement I had with Mr. Arnold, may the dear man rest in peace. I myself created the circumstances I now find myself in. I do not lay any blame at your feet.”
“Ah,” a man’s voice said behind Ben, causing him to turn to investigate. “This must be the gentleman I’ve been hearing about the past day or two.” A neatly dressed man in his sixties, who could only be Viscount Thurlby, crossed the room and gave Rebecca a peck on the cheek. “Hello, Rebecca, my dear; how are you today?”
“I am well enough, Papa, thank you,” Rebecca said with what looked to Ben to be a brave smile. “Papa, allow me to present our new neighbor, Mr. Benjamin Fortescue. Mr. Fortescue, my father, Thomas Jennings, Viscount Thurlby.”
Ben rose to his feet and offered his hand to Thurlby, who shook it amiably.
Thurlby studied him closely. “Fortescue,” the man said at last. “Hmm, Fortescue, you say? I remember a Fortescue when I was a schoolboy at Eton. Fine fellow. Viscount Embley, Lord Winton’s heir, he was. Any relation?”
“Yes, he is,” he said in reply. Viscount Embley had been Ben’s father’s title before he’d inherited the title of Earl of Winton. Ben himself had been Viscount Embley as his father’s heir, until his passing when Ben had been merely twenty-two and his father had been much too young to die. But as Ben had already learned, age didn’t necessarily dictate when a person’s life would come to an end. He still wasn’t ready to admit he was the current Earl of Winton and even outranked Miss Rebecca’s father.
Viscount Thurlby raised his eyebrows as if expecting Ben to go into more detail over the familial relationship, but Ben had said all he intended on the matter.
“Well then,” Lord Thurlby said, “since you know the fellow, I’m sure you will agree with me that he was of fine character.”
It was nice to hear his father spoken about in such glowing terms, even when he had been but a youth during the two gentlemen’s acquaintance.
“Thank you, Lord Thurlby,” Ben said. “I couldn’t agree with you more.” It was time to move the conversation away from his family connections, however. Ben lifted the book. “I was about to offer to read to your daughter, but I’m afraid she’s chosen a rather deep subject. I would have thought lighter reading might be more enjoyable while convalescing.” He smiled, hoping to lighten the mood and help the conversation change direction.
Lord Thurlby peered at the title of the book. “Oh, ho, ho! Milton, eh? My children never cease to amaze me, Mr. Fortescue, especially my daughters. Studied Milton at university myself, you know, but that was enough for me, I assure you.” He chuckled and shook his head as he wagged a teasing finger at his daughter.
Miss Rebecca shrugged. “Romantic poetry didn’t seem quite the fit for my general mood, Papa.”
“’Tis true. She is usually more of a romantic when it comes to her reading choices, Mr. Fortescue,” Lord Thurlby said with a twinkle in his eye.
“A romantic, eh?” Ben said, glancing at Miss Rebecca. He was actually starting to relax in the viscount’s presence, especially now that the subject of his lineage had been dropped.
“When one is young, one is allowed romantic dreams, is one not?” Miss Rebecca replied archly in defense of herself. “Do you not have romantic dreams of your own, Mr. Fortescue?”
“Hm,” he replied. “I suppose I did. Perhaps I still do.” Although he doubted it. The past couple years had taken their toll and had turned him into something of a cynic.
“Well, there you go!” Lord Thurlby said. “And I can see for myself that Mr. Fortescue’s visit has cheered you, my dear girl, and that makes me happy. I’ll leave you two to your Milton now.” He shook his head and chuckled again, then bent to kiss Miss Rebecca on the cheek once more before taking his leave.
“I’m not quite sure what to say after that,” Miss Rebecca said when her father had closed the door behind him.
“No worries,” Ben said. “I have a suggestion: let’s see if these crutches are the correct size and fit you comfortably, if you don’t mind my assisting you. And if they do, perhaps we can take a short stroll in your garden. I imagine it will feel good to stretch your legs a bit. And then, if I may, I’ll return tomorrow and read to you—although may I suggest something a bit less . . . academically strenuous . . . thanParadise Lost? What do you say?”
“You are being exceedingly kind, Mr. Fortescue,” Miss Rebecca said. “But I do not hold you accountable and don’t wish to be an imposition.”
