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“And dull as pond water,” Lord Bentley muttered.
“Dull? Goodness, no!” Rose blurted out without thinking. “She dwelt among the untrodden ways beside the springs of Dove, a maid whom there were none to praise and very few to love: a violet by a mossy stone, half-hidden from the eye. Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know when Lucy ceased to be; but she is in her grave, and, oh, the difference to me!” She clasped her hand to her chest as she recited the poem from memory. It was one that had seen her through some of her hardest days.
Lord Langston turned to her, his eyes shining. “That ‘oh’ has always struck me in a peculiar way. Is it heartbreak or joy when he says that, in your mind?”
“It is both,” Rose replied hesitantly. She did not know if this was some manner of test that would place her higher or lower in his estimation. “The joy of having known her, and the heartbreak of now being without her, and perhaps a secret comfort that he remembers her still.”
Lord Langston lowered his gaze. “An interesting analysis.” He said nothing more, though his demeanor shifted to one of withdrawn quiet. His broad shoulders tucked in, and his chin dipped onto his chest as though he were trying to recede within himself, as a tortoise might. And she could not have missed the slight hitch in his voice when he had spoken.
“I prefer a bit more titillation with my poetry.” Lord Bentley broke the uncomfortable silence, dissipating the discomfort into the air.
Lord Langston rolled his eyes. “You prefer a bit more titillation with everything in life.”
“And what, pray tell, is the harm in that?” Lord Bentley winked at his friend, eliciting a rasp that almost sounded like a laugh. It entranced Rose, a curious anticipation rising in her, hoping that Lord Langston might actually manage a genuine laugh from his lips.
Lord Langston eyed his companion. “A stream of illegitimate children and countless infuriated ladies pounding upon my door, demanding an audience with the gentleman who promised them a divine future?”
“Ah, well, there is that.” Lord Bentley chuckled, seemingly unashamed. Rose did not know what to make of that.Surely, he should have been married by now?Indeed, she reasoned that both of them should have had wives waiting at their respective homes. Instead, they seemed content to gad about together, as bachelors and brothers in affection if not by blood. “But that is why you have your hounds, my dear Captain, to chase away those who would seek to chain me to misery and responsibility for the rest of my days.”
Is he teasing?Rose trembled a little at the idea of hounds. She glanced out of the window and realized that much of London had already passed her by. In talking, she had missed a fair amount of her farewell to the city that had first embraced her and then tested her to her limits, for all one-and-twenty of her years.
“Might I ask something?” Courage steeled Rose’s nerves.
Lord Bentley smiled. “Of course, you may.”
“Why do you call His Lordship, Captain?” It was an oddity that she had noticed since first encountering the pair together, but it had taken several repetitions to make her realize that it was not an error of some kind.
Lord Bentley cracked his knuckles, the sound splintering up Rose’s spine. “Ah, well, that is a simple story. He and I were at war together, and he was my Captain. I suppose it stuck.”
“Is that where you met one another?” She decided to be bold and ask as many questions as she could before she was silenced. If only to try and read the reactions upon Lord Langston’s blank face.
Lord Bentley snorted. “Heavens no, he and I have been friends since we were boys. It just so happens that life has continually led us both on the same road.”
“Or you have followed me down it, like a puppy snapping at my heels,” Lord Langston quipped, with that coy half-smile that Rose had come to look for. A thawing of his icy demeanor. She did not know why she needed him to be warmer than he appeared on the surface, though she supposed it was because, if he was to be her employer, she would have preferred a kindlier superior.
“Come now, your life would be exceedingly dreary without me beside you.” Lord Bentley grinned proudly.
Lord Langston’s enchanting heterochromatic eyes flickered with two faint, twin flames of amusement. “Yet, it would be so much quieter.”
Lord Bentley gave him a playful punch in the arm and cast an “ignore him” look at Rose. “He will never admit that he would be morose without me, but I know the truth. A friend always does.”
“A friend or a permanent lodger?” Lord Langston’s smile widened ever so slightly. It transformed his hard, masculine features, softening the edges until he looked rather mischievous in the low light of the carriage’s interior. Boyish, even.
“You wound me, Captain! A direct hit! Medic—send for a medic! A field surgeon may be required to scoop up the remainder of my broken heart!” Lord Bentley clutched dramatically at his chest and, at last, that sound that Rose had longed for escaped Lord Langston’s half-parted lips. A laugh, rich and full, that shook his shoulders and made the flames in his eyes dance.
“You are a fool, Hudson,” he said through his laughter.
Lord Bentley grinned. “I like to think of myself as a court-ordained jester.” He settled back into a still repose and steepled his fingers. “Now, where were we in our interview, Miss Parker?”
“Pardon?” She had been so invested in Lord Langston’s deep and cheerful laugh that seemed so in contrast with his usual self that she had not heard Lord Bentley correctly.
He cast a strangely conspiratorial smile toward Lord Langston. “You told us of your father’s business and the tragic loss of your mother, but we must know more, mustn’t we, Captain?”
Lord Langston stiffened up again, his laugh fading. “I suppose due diligence must be done.”
“I do apologize for my friend. He does not know how to behave when ladies are present. I do believe his tongue literally ties and knots, and his mind decides to pack its luggage and voyage to pastures new, where he will not have to think of something polite or genteel to say.” Lord Bentley gave his friend a nudge, but nothing could restore the good humor to Lord Langston’s face.
“You wretched bastard!” Lord Langston hissed unexpectedly, his cheeks coloring to a deep and furious crimson.
