Judith smiled to herself and latched onto that subject. Few men could refrain from speaking of themselves when given a prompting. “As life aboard a ship brings you to a myriad of places, I hardly think your answer is a simple one. What has been your favorite place to visit?”
Leaning back, Mr. Byrnes propped himself on his elbows and stretched out his legs. “That is too broad a question to answer properly for there are many. And while that is a valiant attempt to deflect my attention away from my question, I fear my curiosity is too great to allow you to deflect.”
“My answer is not nearly as interesting as your tone insinuates. It’s hardly worth noting.”
“I doubt it.”
Judith sighed to herself, refusing to allow the sound to travel beyond her own heart. “My father was an artist and while he spent the majority of his time in London, he traveled extensively throughout the country, and my mother and I accompanied him. So, the first five years of my life were quite nomadic, though I do not recall much of it. When he and my mother passed away, I went to Yorkshire to stay with my aunt and uncle. I spent some sixteen years there before becoming a governess, and I’ve worked for four previous employers in four different areas of the country before coming here.”
“Would I know your father’s work?”
Borrowing Mr. Byrnes’s own words, Judith replied, “I doubt it. Marcello Delmonte was gaining some recognition, but he died too young to make much of a name for himself.”
With a wide smile, Mr. Byrnes spoke her father’s name, using the same Italian inflection she’d employed, taking it from the simpler two-syllable pronunciation to the proper three, putting the extra emphasis on the second syllable and then giving that end vowel its proper due rather than ignoring it as his countrymen were wont to do.
“That trips off the tongue far better,” he said.
“My aunt and uncle thought it best for me to employ the anglicized pronunciation of my surname.”
Mr. Byrnes narrowed his gaze at that. “I suspect there is more to that story.”
Judith’s brows rose. “What makes you say that?”
“Your tone, Miss Delmonte,” he said, infusing the Italian surname with more flare than necessary, but it brought a smile to Judith’s lips.
“I fear my aunt and uncle wished to distance themselves from my father’s less than exalted genealogy,” said Judith. “Neither they nor my grandparents ever forgave my mother for eloping with a dashing, but all too poor, Italian artist. They were willing to take me into their household but not my father’s lineage.”
Mr. Byrnes considered that, his gaze drifting to the ocean, though Judith’s own remained fixed on him. “My true surname is Polkinghorne.”
Judith arched a brow in silent question, and the fellow grinned at her.
“It is awful, isn’t it?” Mr. Byrnes laughed. “But it is my family name. My uncle on my mother’s side had no heir, so he chose me with the stipulation that I take his surname so his family name would continue on.”
“I’ve heard of such things.”
“But I doubt there’s another fellow alive who is doubly blessed with an inheritance and a superior surname,” he added. “My parents wanted me to use both, but I have no interest in inflicting that monstrosity on the world. The ladies would swoon over Mr. Silas Polkinghorne-Byrnes, but only because they ran out of breath while trying to address him.”
Judith tried to hide her smile, but it was impossible. “A wise decision, that.”
Mr. Byrnes’s expression matched hers, though he turned pensive, the gears of his mind working silently as he studied her. “Do you prefer the British pronunciation of your surname? Or do you count yourself lucky as I do?”
Judith’s hands squeezed in her lap, remaining silent for a long moment as she thought about that. In truth, she hadn’t given it any consideration when she’d left Yorkshire to start her life as a governess, though she wasn’t entirely certain why. With that new beginning, there was no reason she couldn’t have chosen her true surname.
His eyes moved to her once more, and she gave him a half-smile. “Though I am unashamed of my humble origins, I suppose I prefer not having to correct everyone. And after so many years, I’ve grown accustomed to that pronunciation.”
Mr. Byrnes smiled at her. “I would think you’d prefer the Italian as a foreign governess could fetch a higher wage.”
With a stuttering laugh, Judith shook her head. “Perhaps, but I would have to affect an Italian accent, and I fear it has been too long since I’ve heard my father’s voice to properly mimic it.”
“And I suppose that for every door it opened, it would close others. Many view any nationality other than British to be inferior in every aspect.” Canting his head, he added, “You could claim your parents were Italian aristocrats who escaped the Continent when you were a child, fleeing Napoleon’s army as it lay waste to your vast estates. Thus you would have a British accent, and your history would rouse the sympathies and support of even the staunchest of nationalists. After all, we adore aristocracy of any kind and despise Napoleon.”
“Ah,” she said with a grin, barely holding back her laughter. “I ought to have consulted with you before I began my illustrious career. Unfortunately, I am naught but a poor artist’s daughter whose education and gentility came from the charity of my aunt and uncle.”
“It is a pity your father wasn’t a viscount or baron at the very least. He ought to have considered your feelings and chosen a better lineage.”
Judith nodded, a laugh coloring her words. “Terribly unkind of him. But at least my parents provided me with a backstory befitting a heroine in a gothic novel.”
That earned her another of Mr. Byrnes’s wry smiles. “That is something, though I doubt many employers would view it as a good thing.”
