“It is, isn’t it,” he said, almost to himself. He looked back toward the castle.
The hour was late when they finally drew up in front of the house. Weary from the rail journey and rattled from the long ride north out of Hull, they had a simple dinner in the kitchen, usually the warmest place in the house. Beef stew with mash and leeks.
Charlotte pushed aside her bowl of stew with a sniff. He’d forgotten to send word ahead that his daughter didn’t consume beef. Or chicken. Or lamb. Fish, even. Or, as she’d put it, “the flesh of any living creature.”
The worry he always bore in his chest now flickered, begging to roar to life, but Ajax found himself too exhausted evenfor that. He’d self-flagellate over Charlotte’s societal prospects another time. Perhaps tomorrow.
Mrs. Nathan, the housekeeper at Gallox Castle since he’d been a boy, set dessert before them, a pleased smile on her round, lined face. She’d insisted on attending to them herself this evening.
“Parkin?” Ajax said. “I’m chuffed, Mrs. Nathan, positively chuffed.”
“Since you missed bonfire night,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. Leaning toward Charlotte, she whispered, “It’s his favorite, ever since he was a lad.”
He dove into the gooey cake with relish, savoring the slightly burnt, bitter taste of the black treacle, the chewiness of the oats.
The air outside was chilled, but here, at this modest, rough-hewn table, it could be neither warmer nor homier. He had a daughter. Who, although she picked at her cake, seemed happy enough for the time being. She was safe, and she was wanted. Even though he’d never sought to be a father in the traditional manner.
And beside her sat her governess. Kind, intelligent… and a mystery. What he’d give to know her mind, her experiences, her innermost private thoughts. But he couldn’t.
He shoveled another forkful in his mouth, content for the moment.
He was home. He wasn’t alone. It was his, all his, and he need never leave again.
Chapter Ten
Christ, he needed toget out of the house.
Ajax sucked in a deep breath of cold early morning air and stepped forward on the gravel drive, hands on his hips as he surveyed the grounds.
He had erroneously supposed that everyone in his traveling party would be worn out following the journey from London. This assumption was attributable to the fact that he had never lived under the same roof as a fifteen-year-old girl, and his mistake made itself known when Charlotte, having discovered the organ in the long hall sometime around midnight, began playing a series of plodding, reverberating dirges that woke him in a fright.
After shaking off the initial reflexive, juvenile fear of ghosts, he stormed downstairs from his room to scold her, only to be admonished in turn for “disturbing the spirits.” Apparently the long-dead could only be coaxed into materializing via the discordant notes of whatever it was she played.
Running a hand through his hair, Ajax made a mental note to have Mrs. Nathan hire out some organ tuner or what have youfrom Hull. Perhaps there was a man in Beverley, but he doubted it.
“Surprised to see you up and about so early, Sedley,” Gideon said cheerily, strolling over from the main house with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tin cup of some steaming drink. A flat cap sat upon his thick, wavy hair, and Ajax was reminded of the way Miss Abbotts had looked at him, all wide-eyed like a doe.
“I’m not so old as of yet,” he said, with a bit more edge than usual as he squinted into the mist. The air smelled damp, but clean. Just as he liked it.
“Never said you were,” was Gideon’s reply. He started walking, clapping a hand on Ajax’s shoulder as he passed.
Placated for the moment, Ajax followed. “What needs doing today?”
“Drainage ditch along the north road is backed up again.”
“Right.” Ajax nodded, falling into step with the younger man.
Gideon grinned and shook his head. “I can get Theo. No need for you to muck yourself up, sir.” He threw in the honorific as a mild jest.
“Theo’s work is in the stables, with the horses. Not clearing out ditches.” Ajax raised an eyebrow at the estate manager. The groom rarely had much to say, so taciturn was his personality, and Ajax couldn’t imagine Gideon would prefer Theo’s company, unless…
Gideon flushed, and took a swig from his cup. “You’ll do, anyhow,” he sputtered, before finding his conversational footing, donning his large smile once more.
Ajax opened his mouth, a brilliant tease in mind, before he thought better of it and clapped it shut. Who was he to criticize Gideon when here he was, slavering over the governess in his employ?
At the stables, Gideon dropped a couple of spades into Ajax’s arms, then filled his own hands with buckets and pickaxes before walking toward a small cart. It was already hitched up, and the horse gave them a lazy look, one ear twitching. Ajax followed.
Gideon dropped his armful into the cart; it clanged loudly, all wood and metal crashing together.
