I blinked, the suggestive note in his voice causing me to snort—goodness, they were more like Blake than I thought. I certainly felt for their future parishes—men of the cloth with their charm and looks would be taking many a confession.
“Good to know,” I said smiling. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Where are you from, Roz?” Harold asked as one of the subsizars cleared the used dishes from the table.
As I’d learned from Ansel, subsizars, also known informally as scouts, were less wealthy students who worked to cover their school fees and were assigned as helpers to affluent, upper-class students. I’d read that Isaac Newton had been a subsizar here when he attended the college in the 1660s. I admired men like him, who had worked hard for everything they achieved.
With Ansel’s station as a peer, he was assigned a scout, but I’d yet to meet them. While the hierarchy did not sit well with me, it was a reality for those who could not afford the fees, while receiving a coveted education in return. However, despite their reduced circumstances, they deserved to be treated with respect and kindness.
“Not far from here,” I replied with a delayed start, recalling who I was supposed to be when everyone stared at me. “Myuncle’s ancestral seat is in Newmarket. He’s the Duke of Delmont. Most of my family is in London currently, though. My mother, brother, aunt, and my cousin…” I trailed off with a frown. “Er, Lady Rosalin, who is out for the season.”
James sat up, expression suddenly speculative. “I’ve heard of Delmont. He’s rumored to be a force in Parliament and focused on trade laws between Britain and the Far East. He’s a powerful man, isn’t he?”
“He is,” I said, proud of my father and his accomplishments.
“Is your cousin attractive?” Kristof said, eyebrows waggling. At least, he was the one I thought Will called Kristof. “Is she unmarried? Promised to someone? Will she visit? I guarantee we can show her an excellent time.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure that I want my sweet, innocent cousin around the likes of you lot.”
“Sweet and innocent, even better,” he said. “We are very pious, my brother and I.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said while Harold burst into snickers.
“Donot,” he blurted, shaking his head, “bring your cousin around these two, not unless you want her to be corrupted or marched to the altar. The number of broken hearts left in these two libertines’ wakes is a travesty.”
Klaus threw a hand to his chest. “You wound us, dear Harold.”
“We’re notthatbad!” Kristof added.
“No, you’re worse,” Harold replied with a chortle.
Everyone laughed good-naturedly when Klaus poked him and Harold pretended to shove his friend off his seat in turn.
I loved their easy camaderie. Their friendship would be anadded bonus while I was here. My continued presence depended, however, on whether I could handle a tutor who might be motivated to see me fail. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of him and nearly sneezed when my mustache tickled my nostrils. I was still getting used to the extra facial hair and the constant feeling that there was something untoward on my face.
“Can any of you tell me what to expect from Mr. St. Clair?” I asked in a quiet voice. “He’s my tutor this term.”
Their expressions ranged from alarm to sympathy to mirth. The twins of course displayed the last. James looked like he swallowed something vile, a sneer curling his mouth. They all exchanged silent looks before Harold ventured to speak first. “He’s a hard, exacting taskmaster because he was one of the top-ranking students in the Tripos, so he’ll likely expect a lot from you. There will be heavy reading, and you will be tested orally frequently.”
The twins snorted in unison and Klaus fanned himself, pretending to swoon. “He can test me that way any time.”
Kristof rolled his eyes. “True, he is pleasing to the eye, but only if he stays silent. The smart ones always want to show off the size of their brains. So tedious!”
I nearly snorted again. Goodness, they were cheeky.
“One of my mates had him as a tutor last term,” James interjected, helping himself to some blancmange pudding that one of the subsizars had quietly deposited on the table after clearing the rest of the dishes from the previous course. “He decided to leave university with no plans to return. Guess who forced that decision?”
My eyes widened. “St. Clair caused him to leave?”
“That’s the rumor. He’s a varlet, nothing but a scapegrace.”
Something in the hissed insult combined with the derisive curl of his lip made me frown. “You don’t like him, I take it.”
“Not particularly, no.” James scowled, then turned to glare at the others. “And before any of you loudmouthed clods say it’s because he got Second Wrangler years ago, and I’m jealous because I got Third, you’re wrong. He’s arrogant and thinks he’s too good for anyone else even though he doesn’t deserve the position he has. He’s a nobody.”
“Why do you say that?” Harold questioned, clearly surprised by the vitriol.
“I was in the same year as him, remember? Hefollowedme here, certainly not on his own coattail, poachingmyfellowship opportunities,” James ground out. It took a minute for him to collect himself. “Everyone knows he was a subsizar who only got special enrollment because of his uncle.”
