With Jenica’s marriage this spring, life had changed, and Javenia wasn’t sure she liked it. Of course, where one change comes, another must follow. Her baby brother, William, having finally reached the age to attend Harrow, had done the most despicable thing and gone off to school, leaving her with only Jacinda and Janessa for company. A pair of giggling fools if you asked her, even though they were both grown.
Not that she didn’t love her sisters, but one could only endure so much discussion of fashion and romance before her stomach soured. She needed far more level-headed companions to converse with… which led her back to her inconsiderate neighbor.
How dare Algenon leave her this long with only their sisters for company?
In the nearly two decades of friendship, or enemyship—some days she wasn’t certain which fit their complicated relationship better—they’d rarely spent more than one Harrow term apart, which in her opinion was five months and one week too long.
And yet it had been four whole months. The longest since Algenon had finished school.
Not that she cared. He was a grown man. He could travel about as much as he wanted without one thought for her. It would only be more convenient if she could stop thinking about him—aggravating man that he was—otherwise he could go to Hades for all she cared.
Not really. As inconceivable as it was, she was entirely too fond of him to wish him that far away. No other person of her acquaintance matched him in wit or intelligence, nor held her secrets with such unwavering faithfulness, but some days he drove her to the brink of insanity.
She sighed, knowing every time they were on the outs, he’d draw her back again with some wonderful act of generosity or protection and the back-and-forth cycle would start again.
None of it mattered, though. No act, whether great or small, would change the reality of their situation. A situation she’d been painfully aware of for most of her life.
It was a truth universally accepted—mostly by their fathers, as the two men could not stand one another—that she and Algenon were bound to remain neighborly friends forever.
It was probably for the best. They’d likely kill each other if things ever evolved into more, but her heart gave a little skip at the thought of whatmorewould be like. She chastised the unrepentant organ, but as usual, it didn’t listen.
The chimneys of Blackthorn Manor caught her attention through the window of the breakfast parlor. They were barely visible above the trees, but like a beacon they drew her gaze every morning, reminding her that there was a void she could never cross. Not that Algenon had ever tried to reach across the divide.
On the contrary, he’d once declared her the most disagreeable woman in existence and the last he would ever marry. He’d only been twelve then, and mostly angry that she’d bested him at archery, but on days like today his declaration hovered at the forefront of her thoughts.
Javenia sighed and set down her teacup. If only Lord Roberts could forgive her father for buying the property he’d planned on purchasing for his second son.
A second son Lord Roberts didn’t have.
Thirteen children from five different wives and he’d only managed to sire one son. After the death of his fourth wife, they’d all hoped he’d finally give up on the plight, but the man had greater faith than Abraham himself… or he would have, if he ever attended church. Javenia doubted faith fueled his actions any more than logic guided his disdain for her family.
“Can you believe that?” Her mother’s question drew her from the frustration that was never far from her thoughts.
“It is quite remarkable, my dear.” Her father set down his newspaper. “I thought for certain the Whigs had more of a chance this election, but it seems Liverpool is to be our prime minister after all.”
Her mother tutted, and Javenia understood the sentiment instantly. Her grandfather, the first Baron Upton, had been a stalwart Whig and her father had followed his footsteps. That was another shortcoming Lord Roberts had laid at their door.
The Robertses had been Tories for as far back as anyone in Kent could remember. Generation upon generation of unwavering devotion led them to believe anyone who was not a Tory was wrong.
She nibbled the inside of her lower lip. What would Lord Roberts say if he knew his own son favored some of the Whigs’ reforms? He’d probably cast him from the house entirely. Maybe he already knew, and that was why he wanted a second son so desperately?
Relative silence descended on the room as everyone ate.
She sighed again.
“That is your third sigh this morning, Vee. Is something the matter?” Her mother asked.
Her youngest sister, Janessa, the only one not out in Society, grinned mischievously, her full lips and slightly crooked teeth unrepentantly displayed. “Can you blame her? She’s had no oneto fight with for four whole months, what with Mr. Roberts gone to Ipswich.”
Javenia glared at Janessa. Across the table, Jacinda burst into a fit of giggles. Cindy, as all but their father called her, had always been silly. Obsessed with men and courtship, she had a tendency to chase after any unmarried male beyond the schoolroom. It was disgusting. Almost as bad as Algenon flirting with anyone in a skirt.
Almost.
Javenia ground her teeth together.
“Really, Nessa, must you carry on like that?” Their mother scolded, then turned to Jacinda. “Cindy, do not encourage her.”
Jacinda straightened in her seat and cleared her throat, but a smile clung to her lips.
