Could it be? No, it was not possible. Her pleasant conversation in the circulating library had been with Mr. Oliver Linfield? But he’d looked exactly like Mr. Timothy from the day before. He’d even worn the same working clothes. Her stomach sank when the second realization struck.
Needing to know for sure, she waited for a polite moment to interrupt. “Did you finish your businesswith the blacksmith?”
Mr. Timothy’s brows drew together in confusion. “Blacksmith?”
“I…” Kitty weighed her words. “I thought I saw you in the village yesterday afternoon. Going to the blacksmith.”
Mr. Timothy accepted a cup of tea from Lady Sampson before replying. “That must have been Oliver. I have been in Winchester on parish business and just returned late last night.”
“I was mistaken, then,” Kitty replied as she accepted a cup of her own.
She took a sip as she half-listened to Lady Sampson and Mr. Timothy discuss his trip. But her own thoughts were otherwise occupied. Mr. Timothy had been in Winchester. Meaning that her pleasant encounter at the circulating library had been with Mr. Oliver Linfield. And likely the workday as well.
How had she made such a mistake? The men looked nearly identical, but their manners were completely different. Timothy was friendly and personable, while Oliver was cold and distant. Except that he hadn’t been. At least over the past few days. He had been pleasant and interesting to talk with. She could not deny that she had thoroughly enjoyed their conversation about books.
Kitty’s confusion transformed into anger as she considered the discussion. He had to have known she thought he was Tim. Perhaps not when delivering the lemonade. Their conversation that day had been brief and unremarkable. But while he hid from the storm, she had mentioned both his being a clergyman as well as the vicarage. He knew, and he had not corrected her. Did he think it amusing that she could not tell him and his brother apart?
The tea continued with Kitty taking part as little as possible. She answered direct questions, but otherwise let the conversationflow without her. When Mr. Timothy finally stood and offered his farewells, Kitty went through the polite motions before dropping back onto the sofa.
“You are very quiet this afternoon,” Lady Sampson noted. “Are you quite well?”
Kitty forced herself to smile at the kind woman who had given her refuge; however temporary. “Yes, I just have a lot on my mind.” Lady Sampson studied her for a moment, as if deciding whether to press. As the baroness stood, Kitty blurted, “Can you always tell them apart?” She winced at her half-formed question. The words had left her mouth almost before they entered her mind.
Lady Sampson settled back into her seat. “Oliver and Timothy?”
“Yes,” Kitty replied, hoping she did not have to fully explain her question. It would be far too embarrassing.
“As adults, I’ve never had a problem,” the baroness replied frankly, before her face relaxed into a smile that spoke of fond memories. “But as lads, they would switch places and confuse everyone but their closest family and Arabella.”
“Did they often play tricks on people?” And did they still? Though Kitty did not voice the second half of her question.
“Oh, yes,” the baroness confirmed. “They were once sent down from school for their antics. I never heard of them getting into trouble at Cambridge, but it may very well be that they never got caught.” The baroness’s expression sobered. “I miss those days. Oliver has been much too serious since his father died.”
Kitty’s lungs felt heavy. She knew what it was to lose a beloved father. And yet, it would appear that her hostesswas not entirely correct. Oliver Linfield had not completely abandoned his habit of impersonating his brother.
Chapter Six
Oliverenteredhisfather’slibrary to find his brother and two brothers-in-law already seated at the table, ready to start their weekly evening of drinks and cards. He walked over to the drink cart and poured himself a glass of Port before joining them.
Nat had suggested that first evening of cards while they were all in deep mourning for Oliver’s father, who had passed in a tragic riding accident the summer after Oliver reached five and twenty. He argued that they all needed a distraction, and there was nothing untoward about socializing with family.
Though Oliver had been hesitant at first, it turned out to be exactly what he needed. None of them were gamblers by nature, and so they made their wagers in farthings and halfpennies. Then, at the end of the night, all the winnings went into the church charity box. It was just a low-stakes evening of socializing, surrounded by people he loved and trusted.
“What are we playing?” Oliver asked as he took his regular seat at the table.
“Faro?” Grant suggested. When they all nodded in agreement, he set about shuffling and setting up the game.
“I had tea with Lady Sampson and Miss Childs today,” Tim commented from Oliver’s left.
“Oh?” Oliver feigned disinterest. His brother was baiting him; he could hear it in his tone of voice. He was just not sure how or why.
“I found her reading Sir Walter Scott, and then she asked me if I’d finished my business with the blacksmith.”
Oliver let an ungentlemanly phrase slip from his lips. Nat raised an eyebrow while Grant tipped his head to the side. Tim, on the other hand, burst into laughter. When his twin finally regained his composure, he spoke. “As a clergyman, I should probably lecture you. But I would much rather hear the story which led you to use such language.”
Though he wished to flee the room, there was nowhere he could really hide from the men across from him. At least not for long. After a long sip of the sweet red liquid in his glass, he explained, “I went into town yesterday to visit the blacksmith.” Three pairs of eyes studied him, but nobody responded. “It started to pour, and so I ducked into the circulating library. Miss Childs was there with her maid.”
“There is nothing untoward in that,” Nat noted before taking a sip of his own drink.
