Page 1 of Snapdragons
Chapter One
Cambridge University, 1774
Independence was proving to behighly overrated.
Niles Greenberry had come to Cambridge specifically because his very large and very involved family had always attended Oxford. He had a brother and quite a few cousins at that university even now. Other than Niles, there were no Greenberrys at Cambridge.
And he was a little lonely.
Not lonely enough to rush home to the crush of siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins, who filled their corner of Cornwall. And not enough that he was willing to switch universities. But just enough that he had decided to do something he very seldom did: talk. To people. People he didn’t know.
Over the course of his first term at Cambridge and throughout this first half of his second, Niles had been inarguably intrigued by a group known to all as the Gents. Theirs was a tight-knit circle, all in their first year at university, who had almost immediately become the stuff of legend. Nearly every student at Cambridge wished to be part of their very exclusive and lively brotherhood.
It was with that aspiration in mind that Niles tentatively approached Stanley Cummings, who was generally assumed to be the head Gent and who was sitting on a low wall in a courtyard. Niles had been hoping for a chance to approach Stanley. He’d been thinking of him by his Christian name in an attempt to feel less intimidated.
The Gent was by himself, which didn’t happen often. It was Niles’s best opportunity to begin what he wished would eventually become a camaraderie. First, though, he had toactually speak to the man.
Courage.
Niles wasn’t a coward, truly. But putting himself forward was a highly uncomfortable prospect. He preferred listening over orating, going along over blazing a trail. Niles enjoyed a lark and an adventure as much as the next person, but he didn’t generally instigate those adventures. Among his family, he’d been the reliable companion when a brother or cousin had undertaken a bit of mischief. Surely the Gents could use an accomplice.
Before Niles managed a single word, Stanley looked up and saw him hovering nearby. “How are you, Greenberry?” he asked quite casually, almost as if they’d spoken dozens of times rather than not at all.
“You—You know who I am?” Not the bold beginning he’d meant to make.
Stanley smiled. “Niles Greenberry. You hail from Cornwall. You come to Cambridge from Harrow. You’re studying classics, but I suspect you don’t enjoy it.”
“Yes, but what did I eat for my midday meal today?”
That earned him a laugh, something the Gents were famous for. Laughter and larks and unwavering loyalty.
Stanley lifted the book he was reading. “My father has me studying classics as well. It’s not to my liking, but that doesn’t seem to matter.”
How familiar that was. “My family doesn’t allow me many choices in life. I had to browbeat them to be permitted to attend Cambridge when they far prefer Oxford.”
“Browbeat?” Stanley looked a little doubtful. And well he might be. Niles was not one to put himself forward, an obvious trait to anyone paying the least attention, and he suspected Stanley paid attention to a great many things.
“‘Browbeat’ sounds better than ‘beg and plead like a child.’”
Again, another chuckle. This was going better than Niles hadfeared it would. Stanley and one of the other Gents, Lord Jonquil, had returned from Nottinghamshire only a few days before. One of Stanley’s sisters had died, though Niles didn’t know the circumstances. Both gentlemen had returned heavier of countenance. Niles hoped Stanley appreciated having a reason to laugh, even lightly and briefly. He hoped it eased his pain a little.
“I—I thought maybe—” Niles wasn’t eloquent, but he didn’t usually stumblethismuch over his words. It was less a matter of not having mastery of the words he wanted and more of being so unsure of the outcome of the request he meant to make. “Should you ever need another person for—When you are undertaking a cricket match, if you’re ever in need of another on your team, then I would—”
Stanley didn’t laugh then, which was a relief. And he did seem to be listening. “I’ve not ever seen you play cricket.”
“I’m good at it.” Niles wasn’t boasting but was stating the unvarnished truth. “I know I’m not the tallest of men, and I’m not built like an out-and-outer, but I’ve yet to find a sport I’m not good at.”
“Truly?” That intrigued Stanley.
Niles could hardly blame Stanley for not immediately believing him. The quiet, small, overlooked people were never assumed to be good at anything beyond books and deep thinking and knowing the precise distance from a fireplace to achieve optimal snugness.
“I know you and the Gents have a good team as it is, especially with Fortier on your team. That surprised everyone, truth be told.”
“People can be extremely surprising; it is one of my favorite things about them.”
This was his moment; Niles knew that instinctively. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t seize it. “I think I couldbe surprising in good ways. If the Gents are ever looking for someone to round out numbers or do some of the less glamorous work on an adventure.”
Stanley eyed him with a studying gaze. “Are you petitioning for membership?”
