Perceptive baggage.“Aye. I had the army career,” he said, pleased to keep the bitterness from his voice. His injury and unplanned separation weren’t his brother’s fault. “I was meant to have a share, they told me. Jer is paying me back a bit when he can.”Rarely. Resentment and jealousy on the other hand belonged entirely to Jeremiah; Zach did his best to avoid threatening the man’s snug life. He’d stayed away completely after Jer rejected one too many friendly overtures.
“And you work for your uncle?” she asked. “Are you likely to take his place in time?”
“Merciful angels, no. He has three sons to squabble over it—and I wouldn’t want it.”
“What do you want then, Zachary Newell?”
He clamped his mouth shut over the dreams, some long-standing and practical, some more recent and hopelessly inappropriate. “For now, I want to stay dry,” he muttered.
She seemed to take the hint that he didn’t wish to share any more than that, and they rode in silence for a while before she tried again. “No sisters?”
He embraced the change of subject fervently. “One that made it to adulthood. Abigail is the oldest of us all, married to Ralph, a haberdasher who does well enough in business and is good to her. They have two rambunctious boys and three little ladies who know how to wrap uncles around their dainty fingers.”
“You’re close to them.” It wasn’t a question.
“They mean the world. Uncle Jed is kind to me in his way, but Abigail is family. I visit whenever I can.” He launched into stories of family dinners, children’s shenanigans, and his sister’s charities. He spoke until he ran out of steam. “She’s a good woman. I admire her.”
He breathed deeply, turning his gaze upward. “Look, Patience, the clouds are parting. Dare we hope for the angels coming in glory?” he teased.
“I’ll settle for sunshine if it would only stay for several days,” she replied, tipping her head back. The movement put her head in the hollow of his shoulder; he savored the fit, content for long moments as they rode along.
Patience straightened up sooner than he liked and said, “You never answered my question.”
“Which question?” he asked, though he knew where she was going.Persistent baggage, too.
“I got the impression you live above your uncle’s carriage house, rather like you do at The Queen’s Barque. Are you content with that? What do you want from life?”
Home and family. You. He dared not say either answer. He gave her the practical one instead. “I want to be a shopkeeper.”
She bounced up sending a jolt of desire through his genitals. He grit his teeth against it.
“Shopkeeper—with a home above it?” she asked. “What sort?” She sounded genuinely interested.Can’t the fool woman see that a shopkeeper is so far below an earl’s niece he has no business in intimate conversation with her? Much less riding along with her nestled up against parts of him where she shouldn’t be.
“Here’s the full truth: I want to open a bookstore. I want to own, read, sell, and deal in books and more books.”
Her laughter filled the air with music. “I ought to have guessed. I’ve never met a man as in love with reading as you are.”
Zach very much feared he was falling in love with the woman who shared the horse and his most intimate thoughts.
“Is that why you live above the stables? To save money?” She cut to the truth again.
“That is exactly why. I save every penny I make from every trip I take; I add it to what little I left the army with and what little my brother remembers to send me. I have a nice nest egg.”
“How close are you?”
“That depends on where I settle. Rents and properties in Rumford aren’t as high London, but much higher than Fenwick.” He wanted to kick himself. He didn’t want to tell her he’d been discussing Fenwick on Sea with Brewster, who had half convinced him the town was on the rise and he’d do well to open up before prices rose.
He was saved an embarrassing explanation when she pointed excitedly. “The road! We’re almost out of the marshes.”
So they were. “How far to the school once we reach the road?”
“A few miles. Not long.” She sank back, deflated. “We’ve seen no sign of Norb. I thought we’d catch up with him before this.”
So had Zach when they departed. But by the time they crossed half the flooded track he knew they’d missed something—that or the boy didn’t come this way. He prayed Norb would be found hiding somewhere in Fenwick, too frightened to go on and too ashamed to come back. He kept his thoughts to himself. “Perhaps he made it to the school. We’ll know soon enough.”
His doubts and fears warred with a need to protect and reassure—and with a yearning to get a look at this Academy of hers.
CHAPTER9
