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However, Richard couldn’t deny his father anything.
Still yawning and getting used to the fact it was far quieter than what he was used to, Richard washed and dressed, buttoning up his collar when the door opened and his valet Chalmers came in. He stopped in surprise when he saw his master.
“Mr Sidney, I didn’t realize you were up already.”
“I tend to rise early now, Chalmers.” Richard flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry about laying out my clothes. I’ve done it all.”
“I can see.” Chalmers straightened up. “Would you like anything else, sir?”
“Not right now, thank you. I’m practically ready. Would you tell Father that I’m coming down to breakfast shortly?”
“I don’t think he’s up yet, but I can find out.” Chalmers bowed and turned. “I’ll go and let him know.”
His valet left, Richard adjusting his jacket as he checked himself over in the mirror. Not too bad. He hadn’t taken any servants with him on tour, so he had learned to do things for himself. And it wasn’t that difficult. He couldn’t begin to fathom how members of the nobility had no idea how to dress if there wasn’t a servant around. The only fiddly bit was doing up the back of the waistcoat, but that was it.
At least he would be presentable, compared to the other night when he returned. Backley had panicked when he saw two strange men in the house and had attacked them, thinking they were trying to steal the silver. It had taken a few candles and hearing Richard’s voice before he realized the younger son of his master had returned home.
A slightly bemusing way to be greeted, but at three in the morning, Richard couldn’t blame him for that. Even if his head was still throbbing from the whack with a cosh. The butler did have a hefty swing on him.
Heading downstairs, Richard entered the dining room and found Nathan Cohen, the only one present, sitting in his usual chair with a plate piled high with food. It looked like he had taken a sweep of everything on the breakfast table. His tutor looked up from the newspaper and beamed when he saw Richard.
“Ah, Richard! I trust you slept well?”
“Very well.” Richard went to the breakfast table and began to make up his plate. “It’s still a little odd waking up and finding it to be quiet. I’m used to the activity happening outside the window.”
“It is something to get used to, yes.” Cohen picked up his coffee cup and took a healthy slurp. “I do miss Venice, but, if I’m honest, it’s good to be home.”
“I agree. Although it might take a while to adjust to the English lifestyle again.”
“We’ve got plenty of time. We don’t need to do anything for a few days except relax, gather our thoughts, and think about where we’re going to go next.”
Richard couldn’t help smiling. His tutor and mentor had been there the whole time. Ever since he was ten years old and Cohen was employed as a tutor for Richard and his brother, the older man had been a constant in his life. The two of them had bonded over their love of the classics and nature, talking about anything and everything until the early hours. Richard’s father hadn’t been impressed to find his eleven-year-old son still awake and talking about Matthew Lewis’ novels at two in the morning.
It helped that Cohen’s enthusiasm was infectious. He took everything in life with such gusto. Whatever he ate, it was the best meal ever. Wherever they went, Cohen embraced the atmosphere and took in his surroundings with minute details. It was refreshing to be with the man as he went everywhere. Richard found himself getting the excitement and joining in.
A big difference to his father and brother, who were more restrained and calmer. They preferred a slower, more sedate pace, and it seemed to work well for them. Richard couldn’t do that himself. He needed something to do, always be on the go. His mind needed to be occupied, no sitting around for him unless he had a book in his hands.
There had been lots of it while on their European tour. Richard could count on one hand where he and Cohen just sat there in silence, staring into the fire because they were too exhausted. There had been so much to see and do. Richard had filled three journals with what he had seen. He couldn’t wait to look through them later and soak up the memories.
“So, what are your plans for today?” Cohen asked as Richard sat across from him. “Are you going to be doing some research for our next expedition, or are you going to be reading one of the newest novels that came in last week? Your father said there are some good ones for us to devour.”
“I might go for a walk.” Richard cut into his sausages. “I want to go and see Miss Isabel Moore.”
“Ah, I see. Catch up with an old friend.” Cohen sat back and patted his belly. “Well, I’ll be wallowing around with a fat belly, so give her my regards. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you.”
“I hope so. I didn’t keep in touch as I promised.”
Cohen laughed.
“I still don’t understand how a man who writes practically everything down can’t remember to write letters to a childhood friend. She’s probably forgotten about you by now.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Richard grunted. “That would be my fault.”
He wished he could get himself in some sort of order. Even with his meticulous note-taking, Richard was forgetful in a lot of things. That included keeping in contact with those he cared about. His father had scolded him for not writing as much as he should, but he was just happy to see his son home. Isabel was probably going to slap him for not writing to her in four years.
Richard wouldn’t blame her, but he was looking forward to seeing her. Hopefully, he would get a warm greeting before Isabel slapped him. There was never any malice or anger in Isabel Moore. She was the person who just took everything in her stride.
She would have loved Europe. But she had been sixteen when Richard left, and travelling with an unmarried noblewoman would have caused an uproar. Isabel had expressed her desire to go with him, that she wanted to see Europe, but they both knew that wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t fair because Isabel would have been a great travelling companion. She shared their enthusiasm for everything.
