“Oh, I don’t know…” Patricia drew out thewords. “I can’t remember the last time he asked about any woman, and he was certainly asking about you after you visited last week.”
“A polite inquiry, but it isn’t significant. Besides, I’m quite content to assist my father for the time being.” Elizabeth attempted to dodge another matchmaking scheme of her friend.
“Will you still come over for tea tomorrow?” Patricia asked.
Elizabeth held back a sigh. Of course she would go, although she didn’t appreciate the connection Patricia was trying to form between her and her brother. It wasn’t that she had anything against him. He was adequately handsome to tempt her, but that wasn’t enough. She wanted, needed more than attraction. And she wasn’t sure he held an interest in her, truly. Patricia likely was seeing only what she wanted to see, what she willed to be.
“Of course I’ll be there tomorrow. Two?” Elizabeth answered.
“Indeed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Patricia gave a mischievous wink and darted out the door before Elizabeth could say anything more.
Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth left through the back door of the shop and walked briskly across the cobbled alleyway. Her home wasn’t far. Nonetheless, as the light faded over the tall buildings of Cambridge, an uneasy feeling tickled her skin. She glanced around her, keeping an eye onher surroundings. She rounded a corner and then released the tension in her shoulders at the sight of her father waiting outside their door, watching for her return. With a smile, she slowed her hurried pace, knowing she was being watched. Her father rocked on his heels, a pipe in his mouth as he watched her progress. She had loved her mother, and her death had been devastating for them both. Her father keeping her nearby and at Cambridge had been her saving grace, and she knew it had cost him. She lifted a hand in a wave as she neared their stoop.
“Evening,” her father greeted her as she paused by the stairs.
“Good evening, Papa.” She reached up and kissed his rough cheek, a half-day’s beard growth scratchy against her lips.
He gestured for her to take the stairs ahead of him. “How was your evening? Miss Finch is doing well, I hope?”
Guilt overcame her as she nodded, swallowing the catch in her throat. She hated lying to her father, but it was better this way. She was protecting him, keeping him in the dark so he didn’t know she was secretly teaching women the very things the institution he worked for kept for the men in their halls.
“Patricia is well,” she answered, thankful it wasn’t a lie. “I’m having tea at her house tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good. I’m glad you have some feminine companionship. I worry that you spend so much time with me.” He closed the door behind them and started toward his study. “You should invite her over for tea this week, return the gesture,” he coached.
Elizabeth smiled to herself. He tried hard to fit both roles, the mother she’d lost and the father he was, and at times it was so transparent it was endearing.
“Of course, thank you for suggesting that.”
He paused in the doorway to his study. “I wish I knew more about the social aspects of life. I admit they have always been a source of ambiguity to me, shifting like sands I can never quite hold in my mind. It’s times like this I miss your mother even more. She understood those unwritten rules and the written ones.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Kept me in line, and no doubt would have nabbed you a first-rate husband.”
“I think I’ll be able to nab my own husband when the time comes,” Elizabeth said with a saucy tone.
Her father’s lips spread into an amused grin. “Of that I have no doubt, and I should encourage you to hurry along that process, but I must admit to being selfish and enjoying the fact I have you all to myself.”
“I’m thankful we have each other, and someday, when I do marry, it will be to a man who values you just as much as I do. Subsequently you won’t everbe alone, Papa,” Elizabeth asserted with conviction. How would she love or respect a man if he didn’t have respect and affection for her favorite person in the world, her father? Impossible.
“We shall see, but enough of this for tonight. I’m going to read a little before bed. Tomorrow comes early.” He gave a small wave before disappearing into his study.
“Night, Papa,” Elizabeth called and then turned toward the stairway. She made her way to her room and opened the door, releasing a pent-up breath while sagging onto her bed. The chambermaid had stoked the fire in the hearth, and it glowed cheerily, keeping the room comfortable. With a deep sigh, she rose. It had been a full day, and she considered all its events while she readied herself for bed. When she finally slid under the covers, she closed her eyes. Her earlier irritation with the arrogant Lord Penderdale swelled back into her thoughts, and against her will, as she finally drifted to sleep, the words that filtered through her mind were not those of Descartes but those of Lord Penderdale.
Seven
What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.
—Aristotle,Nicomachean Ethics
Collin’s first appointment was at the shire house, to find out if there’d been any new occurrences of his name’s misuse. As he waited to be seen, he considered what actions should be taken next, with Michael Finch’s assistance. He trusted the man—at least trusted him not to make a fool of either of them—but wasn’t sure how much help he would be. Collin was shown into a small office where two men waited, one seated, one standing. “Lord Penderdale, I’m the clerk for the local watchmen, and this here is Mr. Thudd. He was on duty last night and has some information for you.”
Collin shook the hands of each and took a seat, leaning forward as he waited for the watchman to tell his tale.
“I was doing my rounds over by Bridge Street, and I heard a fight brewing, two blokes yelling at one another. I hustled my way over and saw someone in a cap with a stick yelling at another man, trying torob him, or so I thought. But no sooner had I arrived than the one with the stick ran off. I gave chase, only he was like smoke and disappeared. When I circled back to the first, he wasn’t injured too badly but he said something I thought you’d be interested in. Turns out I missed most of the fight. The man who ran off had been cheating at cards at one of the clubs and was called out by the gentleman I was talking with. They’d exchanged a few blows, nothing serious. Turns out, he had been using the name Lord Penderdale while he was playing cards, which raised the first one’s suspicions as he didn’t dress like a lord. Therefore, he thought if the man was cheating about the name, he would possibly cheat with the cards. He was right, called him out, and when he was about to lose the fistfight, or so the first guy said, the card cheater picked up the stick, then ran off when I arrived.”
“So, the one who ran was playing cards under my name.”
“Yes.” The watchman nodded.
Collin frowned. “Where was he playing cards? Did you find out?”
