“Milk?”
“No, thank you, and no sugar either.” The doctor waved her off without so much as a look. He was studying Henry intently, as if trying to figure the boy out in just these initial moments.
“What sorts of entertainment do you enjoy, Henry? Are you fond of reading?”
Her son looked at her, as if seeking permission or, more likely, a little encouragement. She nodded serenely.
“Sometimes,” he replied glumly, “but Mama won’t allow me the books I wish to read.”
“I see,” Dr. Collier said, his brow knit. “Do you prefer outdoor pursuits? Shooting, perhaps?”
Henry shook his head, too shy to voice his opinion assertively. He’d never cared for hunting, and didn’t enjoy riding like his elder brother.
Cressida felt a pang of sadness. Henry had always been wary of grown men, even his uncle Frederick. Privately she wondered if the blame lay with her, and her own selfishness. For if she’d deigned to remarry, to choose someone less repugnant than her first husband and deem them acceptable enough for her, someone like that daffy young diplomat, Richard… well, perhaps Henry might’ve benefited.
But she’d prized her freedom above all else.
“Erm, horses? No? What about shooting marbles? I was awfully fond of ring taw when I was a lad.”
Henry nodded shyly, a slight glint in his eye.
“Really? Well, that’s a start. We ought to set up a game—perhaps you could run and fetch yours.”
Henry hopped up excitedly, the forgottenGood Wordsslipping from his lap and onto the floor. He picked it up, then looked hesitantly at Cressida.
She nodded again, and the boy took off.
Irritated, she retrieved her tea from the table before her and lifted the cup to her mouth, her eyes trained on the sweet, milky brew within.
“Surely not marbles, Doctor?” She took a sip.
“A game he enjoys is a preferred place to begin,” he explained, his voice gentle. “Besides, it’ll give us a jumping-off point to talk of billiards.”
“Billiards?” Cressida set her tea down, eyeing the doctor skeptically. “I don’t recall inquiring after your talents at billiards.”
“Yes, but you did ask me to instruct him in games of skill, to make sure he isn’t a mark. Eventually he’ll end up getting into all sorts of nonsense; young men are adept at turning anything into a wager.” His hands rested upon his knees, his fingers fidgeting. “Many a bet is placed around billiards and snooker tables, my lady.”
At least he had the decency to look apologetic. In Cressida’s opinion, contrition was incredibly becoming in a man. Especially this man, this mountain of masculine energy tempered by a charming pair of spectacles and a kind countenance.
“I doubt Henry even knows how to play snooker—”
“Then I shall teach him.” Dr. Collier reached for his own tea. “Please, my lady. I do not wish to sound conceited but, well… there are few things I trust. My knowledge in this field is one of them.”
“Just this field?” Cressida said, feeling mischievous.
He furrowed his brow, thinking as he sipped. “Perhaps… perhaps in a couple others as well.”
“What others, pray tell?” She leaned forward, one elegant finger resting upon her chin. “For I can’t help but wonder about a certain… other entertainment.”
“A game of skill?”
“In some sense, yes.” She smiled devilishly. “But more often than not, a game of chance.”
Frowning, he set his tea down carefully. The china looked so dainty in his large hand.
“I don’t much go in for games of chance,” he said, his voice hard.
Oh no. She liked that.Fartoo much.
