“But he needs to be taught and—”
“I will do it, Mama.”
She shook her head as though not quite understanding him. “I do not see where you will find the time. Jeremy is not like other children. He requires a lot of attention.”
“Yes,” he told her sharply. “I am aware of that. And I realize I also have parliament and Huntley’s sisters to attend to, but Jeremy is important. You know that as well as I.”
She nodded. “Perhaps if you cut your parliamentarian session short this year and only attend the occasional meetings?”
“That will give me more time with Jeremy in the mornings.” He considered the prospect. “It is a good plan since there is only a month left of the Season anyway. And as far as my bill is concerned—”
“Don’t you think you ought to wait with that for a few more years and see how things develop?”
Thomas’s vision darkened. “I thought you supported me in this.”
“I support the principle, but I am not certain that pushing this bill would be in Jeremy’s best interest.”
“You believe he will not be capable of running a dukedom.” The words sounded flat and angry to Thomas’s ears—a perfect reflection of how he felt.
“He is only five years old, Coventry.” The touch of her hand on his arm made him flinch. She let it fall away. “I think it is too soon to tell.”
Feeling numb, betrayed and defeated, Thomas turned away from her and went to sit with Jeremy. “You may leave us,” he told the nurse before leveling his mother with endless amounts of hurt. “You too.”
“Coventry...”
He dropped his gaze to the painting. “Please go.”
A moment passed and then the door to the room clicked shut. He expelled a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes, regretting he’d caused his mother pain. She was only looking out for Jeremy’s best interests after all, whether he chose to agree with her opinion or not.
“That is a fine wheel,” he said. Jeremy’s hand didn’t stop its circular motion. “If you paint another, you can set the carriage on top.”
When there was still no response, he carefully moved to touch Jeremy’s hand. The boy stilled, but never looked up as Thomas repositioned his hand where the next wheel should go. There was a slight hesitation—a moment of anticipation—and then Jeremy returned his paintbrush to where it had been before and resumed the movement.
Thomas sighed. He had no idea of how to teach the boy or of how to advise and help him. He wasn’t always this difficult to reach, but Thomas supposed the incident with Miss Greyer had had a particularly negative impact. So he chose not to press for a greater response. Instead, he kept Jeremy company with nothing more than his presence until finally, the boy stopped painting and quietly asked, “Can I have a story?”
Chapter 11
It had been two days since Amelia had seen Coventry, although his mother had come to visit each afternoon since. She and Lady Everly had continued to tutor Amelia and Juliette in a variety of things from proper table manners to how one ought to greet an acquaintance in the street. Having insisted numerous times that Gabriella had already given them such lessons and failing, Amelia had resigned herself to their instruction. By the time Wednesday rolled around, she regretted telling Mr. Lowell that she would be busy until the end of the week, and when she finally woke up on Thursday, she’d been thrilled with the idea of doing something besides walking in a straight line with a stack of books upon her head.
“Ladies,” Mr. Lowell said when he and Mr. Burton, who’d been invited to join them, arrived at two o’clock that afternoon. “It feels like an eternity since I saw you last.”
“He has lamented over the fact since Tuesday evening when I saw him at our club,” Burton said. He reached for Amelia’s hand first and then Juliette’s, kissing the air above their knuckles. “And I must confess I share his opinion.”
Their charm was undeniable. Juliette certainly seemed to appreciate it while Lady Everly praised both gentlemen for their kindness. But Amelia couldn’t seem to feel anything but apathy toward them. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them, because she definitely did. But after discovering what passion felt like—what it meant to want a man with a desperation that bordered on insanity—she just wasn’t as excited about the prospect of being courted by anyone other than Coventry.
Still, she was intent on enjoying her day since it did offer an enticing escape. She would also accept Mr. Lowell’s and Mr. Burton’s company in the future. Both men would probably be prepared to offer her a comfortable life while Coventry had no plan to do any such thing, in which case her desire for him would be utterly pointless as it would remain unexplored.
“Was it very difficult for you, growing up in St. Giles?” Mr. Burton asked her while they strolled along a path in Kew Gardens later. “I imagine it must have been.”
“It certainly wasn’t easy,” Amelia told him. “No child should have to endure it.”
“Could you not have chosen to live somewhere else?” Mr. Lowell asked. He was escorting Juliette while Lady Everly brought up the rear at a respectable distance.
“We couldn’t afford anything else,” Amelia told him, making an effort to keep a level tone. She had to remind herself that the circumstances she’d faced with her siblings would be so foreign to these men it would be all but impossible for them to relate.
“But your parents were gentry.” Mr. Lowell glanced across at her with a curious frown. “Are you saying they left nothing for you to inherit? Not even a penny?”
“Yes.” She’d no desire to elaborate on how awful it had been to discover her father’s body and to later realize why he’d taken his own life. “Shall we visit the Chinese pagoda? If the view from the top is as remarkable as I imagine it to be, I’d like a chance to see it.”
