Blast! When alone with her, how come it was so bloody difficult to have a conversation on anything other than his nieces?
“I’ll make certain that Winifred doesn’t overtax her knee,” Miss Claywell assured him.
“Thank you.” That wasn’t a concern. “Have you given much thought to gifts for the girls?”
She smiled. “Yes, tonight I settled on one.”
He leaned forward. “What would that be?”
“Matilda would make an excellent chess player and I’d be happy to teach her.”
“Why do you say so?”
“She thinks strategically, studying the sticks as if she could see how it would play out, the moving of one stick over another. I can only imagine how she’d be at a chessboard once she learned the game.”
Preston chuckled. “I hadn’t thought about it, but you are correct.” He took a sip of the brandy. “I only need to think of four others.”
“I’m certain something will come to you, Lord Melcombe.”
“I’m not so certain. I don’t know what a girl wants. My sisters died when they were children and I have no female cousins. I am truly at a loss.”
Her smile slipped. “I was unaware that you had sisters.”
He’d only been five when they died, and sometimes he could barely remember them. “Three sisters between myself and my older brother. They died of smallpox. My brother didn’t contract it because he was away at school and I was lucky, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been very difficult.”
“I was a child,” he said. “Sadly, it leaves us with one thing we have in common.”
“What?”
“We are the only ones living from our immediate families.”
“Fortunate for you that you do have your nieces.”
“I do and I’m certainly not lonely with them in the home,” he admitted. “Who do you have, Miss Claywell?”
Who did she have? “My Uncle Clarence and four cousins,” she finally said. “They are almost like brothers since we were raised practically as siblings.” Almost, but they weren’t siblings.
She’d not considered her life lonely because she was close to her male cousins, at least until they went off to school. Her governess had been a constant companion and confidant, but she left as Althea was getting ready to attend her first Season.
She’d made friends in London. She’d made dear friends those first two years, but then those friends married, moved to estates, and began producing offspring and they no longer shared common interests.
The weight of what she didnothave pressed down on Althea.
Was this why she tired of London and tired of Society? How many of those acquaintances could she really call friend?
Without even realizing it at the time, Althea knew that one of the reasons she ran from her uncle’s home was because she didn’t want to live in the country, alone, with an older man as her only companion, no matter how much she enjoyed his company.
“Miss Claywell?” Melcombe’s question intruded on her thoughts. “Is all well?”
She blinked at him. “Yes.” Then chuckled. “I must be more tired than I realized.”
“It has been a busy day.”
“Yes, it has,” she quietly agreed as an ache developed deep in her chest.
She wanted what Melcombe had. A home with a family that still lived together and enjoyed each other. A house filled with laughter and love. Her closest confidants had been her Uncle Clarence and Mr. Smith.
