“I hope rain holds off for travel.” At last, a safe topic. Good lord, he was discussing the weather with her now. What else was he willing to do for this woman?
She glanced up from her plate and for the first time since he’d mentioned her father, she didn’t look sad. “But rain is never far off. This is England, after all.”
“Scotland,” he corrected her.
“But soon we’ll be back in England.”
Why did that bother him? He stabbed his fork into a piece of gravy-covered meat and bit it off, unwilling to examine the thought.
“Tell me about your family.” It seemed she would be the one after all, to fill the uncomfortable silences. He sifted information that he could tell her.
“My father is a… solicitor, and I am the second son out of four boys. But the youngest of us is a girl—my sister, Natalie.” He wouldn’t mention the fact that his father was an earl, nor that his mother was perhaps the most influential lady in all of theton. He rather enjoyed the anonymity he’d experienced with her these past few days.
Even as a mister, none of Ravensdale’s sons went unnoticed in London.
“Tell me about your brothers. Surely, they cannot all be as handsome as you.”
“Good Lord, no.” He grinned, enjoying flirting with her almost as much as he liked teasing her. “Rome is the oldest.” He went on to tell her how his brother had married a lady’s maid just last year—which wasn’t nearly as interesting without her knowing that Rome was heir to an earl. “And just before he married, he introduced us to his grown son, Wesley.” Stone grinned as he brought up his nephew. “I’ve taken him to my boxing club on a few occasions, and he shows tremendous potential.”
“You like to box?” she asked, glancing at his hands.
Liking was a rather watered-down word to describe his passion for the sport. He nodded.
“No, you love to box,” she corrected her opinion, her gaze intent on him.
And from there, the conversation flowed naturally. He went on to tell her about his brother Peter, and his passion for playing the cello. “He’s spending the next nine months or so in Brighton, as a student of Sir William Crowden-Bickford—a man considered to be the finest cellist in all of Europe. Supposedly, the association will ensure my brother’s place in the musical world.”
“You sound doubtful of that.”
“Peter thinks his music is all he needs.” But Stone had sensed for a few years now that his brother was lonely. “I’d hate to see him miss out on having a family merely because he believes he can only have one or the other.”
These were things he never discussed with anyone—topics he barely allowed himself to dwell on.
She knew precisely what questions to ask, always followed by insightful observations. They drank the entire bottle of wine and consumed most of the food that had been provided.
When she sat back, he slid his glance to the top of the wardrobe. It wasn’t quite two in the afternoon. “Care to give chess another go?”
She groaned, but then nodded, gathering the dishes and stacking them on the tray. “Very well. Just as long as you keep your tower thingy away from my queen this time.”
He rose to retrieve the game but then slid his gaze back to hers, wondering if she had intended the innuendo.
“What?” She stared back at him innocently and then smoothed the sleeve of her gown.
“Don’t expose your queen, and she’ll be perfectly safe from my… tower thingy.”
“I’m going to take your king this time. He can’t elude me forever.” She pushed the tray aside. “I think the pieces ought to be more colorful. And have faces. Like little dolls.”
“Like dolls?” Stone couldn’t help grinning as she concentrated on lining up her pieces. “Next thing you’ll want to give them all Christian names.”
She lifted one of the bishops off the board. “This one is Jules and the other one is Chaswick. The queen is Bethany.”
Stone froze. Her brother’s name, and the name of her sister and brother-in-law.
He pointed at a knight. “What about this fellow?”
“Blackheart,” she answered unwaveringly. She then went on to tell him names for every single pawn, all of which, if he didn’t recognize immediately, were familiar enough that he could guess they were associated with her in some way. Her memory was there; it was simply playing games with her. Not much longer, he was certain, and it would return.
And if that was a good thing, then why was he breaking into a cold sweat?
