Page 15 of A Lady's Wager
James giggled. “You are an infant, Lieutenant!” He rolled the teetotum for his turn.
“Just a social visit, then?” Corah asked lightly. He’d implied he was here to see her.
“To the only society I really care to have in Bristol.” Lieutenant Owens kept his eyes on the game board when he said it.
The only society? What could that mean? She needed to take care. That phrase should not have bolstered her spirits as much as it did.
“Studious Boy,” James cried. “Doesn’t that mean I get to move forward, Corah?”
“Yes, all the way up to square forty-two. The Orator.”
Her brother bounced in his seat, contentment at his significant advantage shining on his face.
“We cannot let him win, Miss Bradford.” Though he wore a mask of cheerfulness, something stirred beneath the surface. Discomfort? Hesitancy? She couldn’t say what. As the game progressed, it became clearer that Lieutenant Owens was hiding some thought, some emotion that would not let him rest. He kept glancing at her, his eyes lingering when she wasn’t looking directly at him. She wished to ask him what was the matter, but not with James there. Her brother repeated anything and everything he heard.
“Five, six, seven. Ah, the Romance Writer,” Lieutenant Owens said, examining the tiny picture of a man with paper and pen.
“You have to go back,” James said. “Corah, where does it say that?”
She pointed to the instructions. “Back to square five, the Boy.”
The lieutenant sighed dramatically. “Those fickle romance writers, always leading people astray.”
“I happen to like them,” Corah muttered, pushing the teetotum toward James for his turn.
“Romance is a thing of books, not for the real world,” Lieutenant Owens said softly.
She opened her mouth for a biting retort but paused. He didn’t have the usual teasing twinkle in his eyes, the one she’d admired even as he lied to Mr. Haltwhistle. She couldn’t explain this strange gloominess. Perhaps he meant more than he said. “Why should it not be a thing of the real world?”
“It only complicates matters.” Real frustration rang in his words.
She begged her heart to stop its premature skipping. At least his thoughts had turned to romance, even if it irked him. She couldn’t know if it had anything to do with her, however.
“To those resisting, I can see how it would complicate their lives.” She plucked up the numbered top and gave it a swifter spin than she had since the start of the game. “For those who embrace it, love only makes life more vibrant, more lovely.”
The lieutenant steepled his fingers, tapping them against his lips. “But is that worth the price?”
“How is it not?” She moved her token, not caring where it landed. James would remind her if something was to happen. He’d memorized the game despite his refusal to read the instructions. “To spend each day living for another person, to let them know each part of you, to understand that they love you in spite of your faults just as you love them, to have a space of warmth and safety between you—surely that is something worth all the discomfort in the world.”
The corner of his lip twitched upward. “This coming from the young lady who has rejected every man in Bristol.”
She squared her shoulders. Whose turn was it? “Not every man.” She hadn’t rejected him.
The lieutenant spun the teetotum, then turned toward her, his knee brushing hers. “You don’t think it slightly odd that such a romantic hasn’t found her match?”
“Not at all.” They simply hadn’t been looking in the right places. Here she was, discussing this with the one man who had turned her head. She wanted to blush, to look away, but she stayed firm. “If I will settle for nothing less than a true love, surely that shows my unyielding belief in its power.”
His face softened. Was that hope lighting his eyes or just the flames crackling in the hearth? The dizzying musk of his cologne muddled her thoughts, but one thing was clear. He was scared. She couldn’t blame him. So was she. Living life practically alone for as long as he had would make it difficult to believe in love. Love meant grief eventually. How could she convince him it was worth it?
His gaze flicked to her lips and he swallowed. A thrill ran up her spine. Her breath caught in her chest. For a moment she allowed herself to hope.
“I win!”
“Did you, James?” She turned back to the table, where her brother tapped his button against the Immortal Man square. Had he cheated? He had a tendency to miscount on purpose.
“I did. See?” In his excitement, his button slipped from his hand and skittered off the table between Corah and Lieutenant Owens. “What did you end on? That’s who you are, you know.”
“I am the Friend of Man,” she said, reading the square. Fitting. Always a friend, nothing more.
