Page 17 of The Bachelor
They walked a short distance more.
“Magnificent sunset, isn’t it?” she said, apparently determined to cheer him up.
He hadn’t noticed. But now he made himself pay attention to where the sun sank low on their right, washing the sky with swirls of pink and orange and purple. “It is.” He nodded toward an impressive building. “Is that the church you wished to see?”
“Yes. I try to visit it every time we come through here. I’ve always admired the Late Perpendicular Gothic style of Great St. Mary’s. I like the clean lines, the symmetry, and the lack of stained glass. And because of the latter, what I like best right now is how the dying sun looks like red flames in the reflection of the plain windows.”
He mustered up an answer. “I sometimes forget that sunsets are more than mere indicators of coming weather at sea. ‘Red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning’ and all that.”
“Given your years aboard ship, do you find the red-sky thing to be true?”
“Generally.”
She sighed. “I often wish I could paint a sunset, but I can’t do it justice.”
“No one can. Nature has the monopoly on sunsets. I’ve yet to see one in a painting that didn’t look forced.”
“That’s rather harsh, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps. I haven’t seen many paintings.” He glanced at her. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”
She gave a rueful laugh. “To call me an ‘artist’ is to call my cloak a sail. I can sketch plans for a ha-ha or a folly in no time, but to paint a reasonable approximation of such a building and do it justice? I’m hopeless at that.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot about your interest in architecture.”
“That’s because you hardly ever see us,” she said lightly. “Mama has invited you to dinner countless times and you never come. Just think of the riveting conversation you’re missing. Only last week, Sheridan and Mama got into an extended argument about how a cravat should be tied.”
Grimly, he shook his head. His life seemed miles away from theirs.
She tucked a curl under her fancy hat. “So now that you’ve been reminded of my love of architecture, you must tell me whatyouhave an interest in. Because somehow I doubt that it’s catching poachers and breeding retrievers and whatever else a gamekeeper does.”
“You guessed that, did you?”
“It was hard not to. You’re so grumpy whenever I see you that I can only assume it’s because you don’t like your post.”
“My post is fine. It’s just . . .”
“Not what you thought you’d spend your life doing,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“But you keep doing it because you’re afraid of hurting anyone if you do anything else,” she persisted.
“Yes.” Surprised by her insight, he shot her a dark look. “I thought we were going to change the subject.”
“Right,” she said, smiling faintly. “So whatdidyou think you would spend your life doing?”
“Leading men into battle. Discussing strategy with other officers. Traveling to new places that were . . . were . . .”
“As far away from England as possible,” she finished. “I know the feeling. I truly did not want to return to England myself, although I am learning to be content. With the war going on and all my family living here now, it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to return to Berlin, no matter how much I miss it.”
“Is that the real reason you didn’t come back with Thornstock when he asked? Because you didn’t want to leave Berlin and your parents?”
“Partly.” She dragged in a heavy breath. “And partly because Thorn was returning to an estate and title and great wealth. Whereas I would have been returning to—”
“Nothing. Except a position as the sister of a duke with an estate and title and great wealth.”
“When you say it like that I sound spoiled,” she muttered.
