He swallowed hard. “Wallowing.”
“Unless you enjoy hating yourself, of course,” she said cordially. “That’s quite a different matter.”
Amazingly, Lucas began to laugh. “Simon, you’ve found yourself a spitfire.”
Simon laughed, too, deeply relieved to see the old Lucas. “My lady has many facets, and one of them is fire.” He raised their joined hands and kissed her fingers. “She’s right, you know. I’ve done my full share of wallowing, too.”
“Perhaps it becomes a habit,” Lucas said in a low voice.
“Habits can be changed,” Suzanne said, her voice compassionate. “Though it takes time.”
Thinking it was time to change the subject, Simon said, “I’ve been perishing of curiosity about how you have become a friar and bonesetter. How did that happen?”
“You talk about life being complicated, which it is, but this was simple. I was injured when escaping from the depot at Bitche. By the time I stumbled into Belgium, I was half dead. A farm family found me in their barn, and because I had obvious broken bones, they called the local bonesetter, Frère Emmanuel.” Lucas smiled a little. “Emmanuel means ‘God is with us,’ and if ever God was with a man, it was Frère Emmanuel.”
“You learned the skills from him?” Suzanne asked.
“Yes. Frère Emmanuel came from a family that had been bonesetters for generations. He was getting old and frail and had no son, so I became a kind of apprentice. I traveled with him and cared for him and learned his skills. I found the work interesting and it was deeply rewarding to help those in need. So I stayed with him. It was impossible to imagine going back to my old life in England, where every man would scorn me for behaving dishonorably.” He glanced at Suzanne. “Perhaps I was wallowing.”
She smiled at him. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Have you never wished to return to England if only for a visit?” Simon asked. “The Foxtons would be overjoyed to see you. Not to mention that there’s a title and inheritance waiting for you. Your uncle will gladly return both of those to you.”
Lucas hesitated. “That is the life I didn’t think I could return to.”
“That was then, this is now,” Simon said. “Years have passed. Have your feelings changed?”
When Lucas didn’t reply, Suzanne said, “Of course you’ve taken vows, but even with a true vocation, perhaps you could visit your aunt and uncle?”
“Actually, I haven’t taken vows.” Lucas frowned. “Since I traveled with Frère Emmanuel and lived the life of a Franciscan friar, people assumed that is what I am. But I have never felt that I had a true vocation. Frère Emmanuel always said that if I did have a vocation, I would be sure of it, as he was.”
“Perhaps your vocation is for healing,” Simon said. “You have the bonesetter skills and Frère Pascal in Namur said you had healing hands. Those skills can be exercised anywhere without following the Rule of Benedict.”
Lucas smiled humorlessly. “Can you imagine an English lord who practices as a bonesetter?”
“Actually, yes,” Simon replied. “The English aristocracy has more than its share of eccentrics. Why not a lord whose eccentricities are actually useful?”
Lucas’s eyes lit with laughter. “You make a compelling case, Simon, but my life is here.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Suzanne murmured.
Lucas gazed at her, something in his eyes that looked like longing. Simon remembered how his cousin had always enjoyed the company of females for friendship as well as flirting. A life of celibacy had never seemed possible for him, much less likely.
Lucas rose from his tree stump, tall and too thin but undeniably Lucas. “You have given me much to think of, but my work is here. Simon, it has been a blessing to see you again. Thank you for caring enough to hunt me down.”
Simon hid his disappointment. “Is it all right to tell your aunt and uncle that you are alive and have been living the religious life here in Belgium?”
“Yes, but I’d prefer you not tell them of my disgrace.” He offered his hand. “Bless you, Simon. And Suzanne.” He turned and gave a bow that was more courtier than cleric. “I am so glad that you and Simon have found each other.”
Suzanne gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. “So are we. You know that our door will always be open to you.”
He smiled down at her. “You are gracious.”
Simon said, “We’re staying in Brussels for now, perhaps for a month or two, perhaps longer. Here is the address.” He pulled out a pencil and a small piece of paper and jotted down where to find them. “And if you choose to travel to England, you know where to find us there.”
“Perhaps someday I shall.” But the words seemed mere courtesy. Lucas turned, swung onto the Magdalene, and set off on his road again.
There was no more to be said. Simon helped Suzanne onto her chestnut, he mounted the bay, and they turned back to the road west.
