Page 31 of Give Him a Chance

Chapter Six

May 11, 1841

It was astonishing,really, how swiftly a person could grow accustomed to a completely different routine.

“Good morning, Cawthorne,” Bernard said cheerfully as he traipsed down the stairs that morning.

The butler inclined his head. “And good morning to you, Mr. Dixon. I trust you slept well?”

“Yes, please thank Cook for me; she was right—lavender under my pillow was perfect to send me straight off to sleep,” Bernard beamed.

Just enough to stop the nightmares. To prevent the terrors creeping in around the darkness of his eyes. To cease the unending dread that slipped into his mind the moment darkness fell and he was left with nothing but memories. Memories and—

“The family is in the morning room, sir,” Cawthorne said warmly. “Won’t you join them?”

Bernard hesitated.

“Join them.”Join the family. Join the Earl of Lindow, his wife, and their son…and their daughter.

It was tempting. Until now, Bernard had done his best to be as unobtrusive as possible. It was a small miracle the man hadn’t thrown out the stranger whom his daughter had brought him from a prison, and Bernard was hardly going to ruin his best lodgings in years.

But it was one thing to avoid notice, and quite another to sit down and breakfast with the lot of them after the big announcement days ago that he was a convicted criminal.

Bernard bit his lip. He did know how to behave at a breakfast hosted by an earl, but it had been years…

“There are kippers this morning, Mr. Dixon,” said Cawthorne encouragingly, as though the only thing holding the man back were the mention of fish.

But he was being kind, and it had been a long time since Bernard had been surrounded by kindness.

Prisons weren’t kind.

“That is good news,” Bernard said cheerfully. “Well, in that case, it appears I have no choice.”

Striding forward, he reached out to open the door to the morning room but almost stumbled into the room itself when the door opened all on its own.

Of course. Footmen.

“Ah, Mr. Dixon. I wondered when we’d have the pleasure of your company this early in the day,” called the Earl of Lindow cheerfully from the breakfast table as the trio of Chances looked around. “Don’t usually see you until dinner!”

Which was true enough. Bernard had managed to avoid them for breakfast by dint of not eating it, had become great friends with the cook to enjoy luncheon with the servants—where undoubtedly most of them thought I belong, he could not help but think wryly—which left dinners to get through with the family.

Get through.As though he didn’t salivate at the very thought of all those delicious chicken cutlets and raspberry tarts.

“Come, sit by me, man,” called Lord Percy with a grin that suggested mischief was on the off. “I wanted to ask you, when you were in prison—”

“Percy!” chorused his entire family.

Bernard stepped forward awkwardly and tried to smile. “I am afraid there is not much to tell, Lord Percy.”

That was true enough; there was very little he was permitted to tell. One did not sign up to be a spy for Her Majesty then blabber the details over kippers.

Kippers that smelled good.

“And I hope you will not tell him a thing, Mr. Dixon. He is altogether too contrary for his own good.” The countess smiled before shooting her son a glare that could have withered a substantial tree. “Percy!”

The man jumped as Bernard sat beside him. “What is it?”

“Don’t think I don’t know about your plans! No desire to get married; I have never heard the like from an heir to an earldom,” his mother said warningly. “There’s a fifty percent chance it will all end in tears, you know—”