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A moment of enthusiasm struck, and Anders said, “You may inherit my farm! My sons shan’t ever return. They are good-for-nothings, and I wish my property to go to someone that deserves it.”
Patrick didn’t know how to respond to such a grandiose offer. No one had ever really given him anything in his life except his mother.
“That is tremendously kind of you,” Patrick replied. “But really, it’s too much.”
“Come on,” Bo said, shaking his head in indignation. “Take him up on his offer. Give your lady a home.”
Patrick gave a wry smile. “Why do I presume that you only want me to take him up on his offer so that the three of you might live on the property?”
Bo turned sheepish. “Well, it wouldn’t be so terrible … ”
The situation was all too humorous. What would Sarah Crawford think about living on a farm with three ruffians sleeping out in the barn? No, Patrick wished to have Sarah all to himself. Perhaps he would employ Jimmy, Ned, and Bo to work on the farm, but certainly not to live on it.
Ned asked thoughtfully, “What does her father think of all this?”
Patrick’s tone turned serious again. “I fear that he’s unpleased. I haven’t sat down to speak with him, man to man.”
Anders was in shock. “You didn’t ask the father for her hand in marriage?”
“I’m afraid that I did not. There was no time. I found myself kneeling before her and the words flew out of my mouth. There was nothing more in the world that I desired at that moment.”
Ned, shedding a little tear at the beauty of Patrick’s sentiment, brought his napkin up to his eye. “I wish to marry one day,” he said.
“Everyone slow down,” Patrick advised. “I’m not married yet, and there’s a good chance I’ll have to endure a duel to be so.”
Bo rubbed his hands together in delight. “Now, there’s a fine idea. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a good duel.”
A wash of dread came over Patrick. Was Lord John capable of proposing a duel? Or the Duke of Faversham? They both seemed so incensed that there was a very good chance they’d propose such a thing.
And what of Lord Kelly Spencer? That was the conundrum that Patrick truly had no answer to, and perhaps the largest mystery that he’d ever been a part of.
Patrick couldn’t help asking, “Have any of you … found someone … that shares your appearance?”
The men knitted their brows in confusion, unsure of what Patrick was implying. Anders finally said, “Like a sibling?”
“I suppose. But far closer in resemblance than a normal sibling?” Patrick looked towards them all, and they still appeared confused. “Never mind. This will be something to discuss down the line.”
Bo said, “Or, something to discuss at the Hound’s Bone.” He stood and rubbed his hands together, brushing off crumbs from the brown bread.
“Right now?” Patrick asked. “We just ate breakfast.”
Bo rubbed his protruding belly. “What kind of excuse is that?”
Everyone got up from the ground begrudgingly, and Anders said, “You boys have your fun. You’ve done a fine job on the barn. Patrick, remember my offer.”
Patrick looked into Anders’ rheumy eyes. “I will remember.”
The men made their way to the tavern as Patrick considered what a life he might have if he inherited Anders’ farm and lived out the rest of his days with Sarah. Perhaps the men could work full-time at the farm; they’d labour away, then go to the tavern in the evening. The idea seemed pleasant, but he’d never wish to leave Sarah to attend a tavern.
“Tim Tom isn’t going to believe any of it,” Jimmy said.
Patrick smiled. “I don’t know. Tim Tom has perhaps heard a lot of stories in his day.”
Walking down the main road of Hamel, Patrick also considered the long day ahead of him. Spending time with his friends was a respite from the challenges that lay ahead; convincing Lord John of his worthiness, getting the Duke of Faversham off his back and figuring out how in bloody hell he was the spitting image of Lord Kelly Spencer. All of these things would be resolved after a few pints of ale.
“Tim Tom!” Bo exclaimed, throwing his arms out.
Tim Tom leaned his elbow on the bar. “Here comes trouble,” he said.
