At his stoic nod, she paused. Since the start of the journey, when he’d requested that they be friends, she’d felt increasingly at ease in his company. Spending hours in a coach together had a way of doing that. Yet now she felt her shyness returning; clearly, he didn’t want her to be there.
“I’ll, um, leave you to enjoy your meal in peace,” she said.
“No, stay.” He seemed to come to himself. “I would enjoy the company.”
“You’ve ’ad plenty o’ that this week,” she said with a touch of humor. “I’ve been told we Sheridans are an acquired taste. It would be understandable if you’re wanting time alone.”
“Your brothers are a boisterous lot.” He gave her an amused look and then did the most gallant thing: with his free hand, he spread his jacket over the grass like a picnic blanket, gesturing for her to sit. “Please. Stay with me so that I do not have to sup alone.”
Sensing that his request was genuine, she acquiesced, and the two of them sat side by side in companionable silence. He dug into the stew, which was the result of a group effort. Mr. Taylor had done work for a butcher in a nearby village, bringing home a leg of mutton. Mrs. Taylor had chopped up the meat, braising it with chunks of onions and carrots. Since Da had fixed up the farmhouse brick oven, Fancy had sliced potatoes thinly, laying them on top of the stew along with dollops of butter and baked it. The result was a golden-brown crust, the rich filling bubbling beneath.
“This is delicious,” Knight said.
“I’m glad you like it.” To distract herself from his nearness, she wrapped her arms around her raised knees, looking out over the water as dusk spilled vivid pink and orange over the surface. “It’s beautiful out ’ere, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” He cocked his head; in this light, his dark hair had a violet sheen. “I don’t think I’ve heard so many crickets before.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Those ain’t crickets.”
“They aren’t?”
“No, those are courting toads.” She peered at him curiously. “You ’aven’t been in the country much, ’ave you?”
“I inherited a country seat, which I have yet to visit.” He paused to eat from the plate balanced on his lap. “Work keeps me in London.”
“You ’ave to keep an eye on your factories?” she asked.
He nodded. “Among other things.”
“What other things?”
He took a bite, swallowing before he answered. “Weavers are a contentious lot, not that I blame them. Taxes and modernization are eroding their livelihood. I have my hands full trying to convince them that, since they can’t fight industrialization, they must join it. I have a new weaving machine I plan to introduce, but I have to do it in such a way that the workers will accept it and not walk out or go rioting in the streets.”
“That sounds taxing,” she quipped.
“Never jest about taxes to a weaver, Fancy.” His mouth curved faintly. “Now it’s not just work that occupies my time, but also the responsibilities that come with the title. Management of the estates, investments…and my half-siblings.”
In his brief mentions of his kin, she’d gathered that they were a handful.
“They can’t be as ’ard to manage as mine,” she said teasingly.
“Don’t be so certain.” His glance was wry. “In addition to brothers, I have a sister who is a hardened flirt and another who fancies herself a revolutionary.”
Fancy stared at him. “’Ow did they become that way?”
“It’s not their fault, I suppose.” His eyes darkened. “While my sire took care of them materially, he provided no other guidance. When their mothers died, he brought them to live with him in his chateau in the south of France. I went there to fetch them. Cecily and Jonas, sixteen and seventeen respectively, had their own wing and carried on however they pleased. I lost track of how many drunken rakes and trollops I passed on the way to find Jonas’s room. Cecily I couldn’t find at all since she was out gallivanting with some fortune hunter.”
“Sweet Jaysus,” Fancy said, blinking.
“The thirteen-year-old twins, Toby and Eleanor, lived in a separate wing. They were put under the care of a governess who seemed more like a prison warden. The children were practically chained to the schoolroom and had little contact with the outside world.”
“But your sire—”
“Was too busy seeing to his own pleasures to pay his bastards any mind.”
Fancy stared at Knight’s harsh profile. “Then you’re aprinceto care for them. To look after your brothers and sisters when no one ’as before.”
“I am merely doing my duty,” he said curtly.
