Page 2 of Rebel

He nodded. He’d been alone two years now, his father’s house empty and yet too full of memories to consider selling. Besides, he supposed he must marry one day. “Will you visit your family over the Christmas season?” he said, distracting himself from the uncomfortable thought. “It must be hard, being so far from them.”

Tanner looked down into his drink. “I won’t visit, no. My father... He prefers that I’m here.”

At that, Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“He finds me troublesome.” Another of Tanner’s cautious smiles. Too wry to be sweet, but Sam couldn’t help thinking there was sweetness to be found there, that if Tanner really smiled it would be a sweet thing indeed.

He swallowed the thought with a mouthful of Madeira wine. “Is that why you’re here, then? Because your father sent you? I thought you seemed…unenthusiastic when you arrived.”

Tanner ran a long finger around the edge of his whiskey glass, the sight oddly distracting. “I hope I didn’t appear ungrateful. Mr. Reed has been nothing but kind to me. It’s just that I got into some … scrapes in Boston. My father didn’t think the company I kept was appropriate for a gentleman, so he sent me here instead.”

“To keep you out of trouble.”

Tanner gave a short laugh, his eyes fixed on Sam. “If that was his aim, he may be disappointed.”

What that meant, Sam didn’t know. But it made him uneasy. “Mr. Reed is a good man. You shouldn’t bring trouble to—”

“I won’t.” Tanner sat back in his chair. “Don’t worry, Mr. Reed is safe from me.” He took a swallow of his whiskey. “I can see that you’re fond of him.”

“I am. I owe him a great deal.” Tanner’s cocked eyebrow invited him to continue, so he did. “I’d not established myself in any profession before my parents died, and then I found myself with a large house but no income to run it.”

“You couldn’t sell?”

Sam frowned. Everyone had advised him to sell, especially his neighbor, Amos Holden, who’d long had eyes on his property. “I could have. I had several offers, but I didn’t want to sell. For a start, there was Peggy and May to consider—my housekeeper and her daughter. Where would they have gone? Besides, it’s my family home. I wanted to keep it.”

“To pass on to your own son one day, no doubt.” Tanner looked away as he said that, eyes turned to the fire leaping in the grate.

“I suppose so. But I was really thinking about myself. I grew up there and the idea of seeing it in someone else’s hands is… I couldn’t do that, not just to make my own life easier. It would have been a betrayal of my father. Anyway, before I needed to contemplate selling, Reed offered me a position. And I found I liked the law. I’m good at it.”

“You are.” Tanner offered one of his restrained smiles. “You have a clear mind, Hutchinson.”

Sam laughed at that, the Madeira wine making his face warm. “Not clear of thoughts, I hope. Although my head isn’t so full as yours, I dare say.” He nodded to the book bulging Tanner’s pocket. “All that reading.”

Tanner put a hand to his pocket. “I read too much, I know. My father always says so, but there’s just so much out there to discover.” He gave a self-conscious smile. “I spend half my salary on candles at this time of year.”

Sam decided he’d like to see that smile again. It was more honest than his usual, cautious expression. Sweeter, too. Yes, he’d very much like to see that smile again. “What is it you read?” He reached for his cup and found it empty.

“Another?” Tanner waved the barmaid over before Sam could protest. “Two whiskeys, please.” To Sam, he added, “I prefer it to rum, for political reasons.”

Sam’s father hadn’t held with spirits and so Sam had never indulged in either. But he kept that to himself when the drinks arrived and tried not to wince at the smoky burn in the back of his throat.

“You like it?”

Sam couldn’t have said no even if he’d hated it, not with Tanner watching so intently. He swirled his glass, its tawny glow matching the candlelight reflected in Tanner’s eyes. “It’s very good.”

Their gazes met. And held. And held. Tanner opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit it lightly. Sam felt a heat under his breastbone, a shameful pressure in his prick.

“I like to read about ideas,” Tanner said, “in answer to your question. I like thinking about how things might be different. Better.”

“Things?” Sam sounded stupid to his own ears, his thoughts scattered by his body’s sinful flush. “What sort of things? Mills? Machinery?”

Tanner laughed. “No, no. I mean— well, in fact, I suppose you could call it the ‘machinery of government’. How society works. How we can make the world better. Political philosophy.”

Those were Harvard thoughts, Sam decided. “It all sounds very…” He flapped a hand, looking for the right word.

“Boring?”

“No! Not boring. Weighty. Serious.”

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