The child slouched and walked with Lord Bentford to his horse.
“We should return home as well,” Cordelia said to her wayward brother.
He picked up his valise, slumped much like Miss Ianthe and turned down the road to Hollybrook Park.
“I bet Uncle Jonathan didn’t go to school.”
He was their great uncle who had been a smuggler, and possibly a pirate. Edward was fascinated by his portrait and vowed that one day he too would captain his own ship, just like Uncle Jonathan.
“I would wager he at least finished his education at Eton.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“No, but you can learn for yourself,” Cordelia said. “Miranda found journals going back to when he first began to sail.”
“Really?” Edward’s eyes grew round with excitement.
Miranda was their older sister and had at one time tried to live in the attic where Uncle Jonathan had kept his spyglass, maps, books and all manner of things in which a ship’s captain may have an interest. That was also where he kept his journals and Cordelia was certain that Miranda had read every one that he’d written.
“Perhaps if you read them, you’ll learn how he became a captain.”
“That is what I’m going to do as soon as we arrive home.”
Cordelia certainly hoped that Uncle Jonathan had gone to school or there would be no keeping Edward on land. He’d find the first ship that would take him and be gone before they realized what had happened.
“Miss Ianthe seems nice,” she said.
“She thinks I’m foolish and stupid,” Edward grumbled.
“You also weren’t very nice to her,” Cordelia said carefully because she didn’t want him to know how much she had heard and didn’t wish to get into another argument, but he had to know that he should have talked nicer to the girl.
“She wasn’t nice first,” Edward defended.
Cordelia wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. “After you find out what Uncle Jonathan did, schooling and everything else, then we’ll talk.”
He eyed her with suspicion. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, but nobody is going to let you run off and join the navy at your age.”
He made a face. “I don’t want to be in the navy. If I had to fight, I’d rather it be from a privateer or pirate ship.”
Cordelia blew out a sigh. Her brother was going to be a criminal. He’d either smuggle or be a pirate. “Hopefully you don’t become a pirate or a privateer.”
“But smuggling is okay.” He laughed.
All Cordelia could do was shrug. Their family had made a fortune in smuggling. They still made a fortune doing so and everyone in the village of Bocka Morrow profited too. She couldn’t really discipline Edward for carrying on the family tradition.
As they passed the Romani camp, Cordelia glanced over. Madam Boswell, her older brother Adam’s grandmother, was sitting beside a fire with the others. Her daughter, Eva, had been the first wife of Cordelia’s father. They had three sons, though only Adam survived. After Eva’s death, Cordelia’s parents married. Even though Madam Boswell was not a blood relation, as she was Adam’s grandmother, Cordelia thought of her as her own as well.
If the tea that Brighid provided didn’t work, perhaps Madam Boswell would have a suggestion. The only problem in going to her was that she saw too much, as if she could read your very thoughts and see into your soul. Her being able to do so had never bothered Cordelia, but she hadn’t been obsessed with an estate before, nor smitten at first sight.
Until she overcame her fascination with Nightshade Manor, it was best to stay away from Madam Boswell.
Chapter 6
Damon had ponderedhis meeting with Miss Cordelia for the rest of the afternoon and evening, though he hadn’t said a word of the encounter to his mother. Nor had Ianthe because Damon had asked her not to.
It was his mother who insisted they weren’t to leave the estate. He’d questioned her in the past why this was so, and her answer was that the residents might expect an invitation, and nobody could visit Nightshade Manor while a young witch was learning to control her powers.
