Page 52 of It Takes Two to Tumble
“Hullo,” Ben said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I’ll get up and rumple my sheets.”
Like hell he’d lounge in bed while Ben got up. He didn’t know how long he’d have before Ben left for good, and he’d be damned if he’d waste a single hour.
“I’ll get up, too, and maybe you’ll help me write a damned awkward letter to the admiralty?”
Ben raised his eyebrows. Even if Phillip could have managed the letter on his own, he wanted Ben to see with his own eyes that Phillip meant what he had said about not going back to sea.
When they reached the study, Phillip rang for tea. Ben stationed himself at the desk while Phillip perched on the edge, dictating a letter in which he gave up the only life he had ever known. They had the letter ready for the post before a housemaid appeared with a tray of tea.
“So that’s that,” Phillip said, after the maid had left with the letter. “We’re both rather at loose ends.” Phillip felt that he was standing at a dizzying height, looking at the world beneath him.
Ben smiled at him from behind his teacup.
It wasn’t long before Ned appeared at the French doors, already dressed in his riding kit. “The ducks have laid fourteen eggs. Cook was right about the bone meal, dash it. I’m going for a ride but I’ll be back by tea.” He waved over his shoulder and strode away.
“I’ll swear he was four inches shorter a fortnight ago,” Phillip said. “And a good three years younger.”
Was this what normal family life could be like? Drinking tea and making commonplace observations? Wondering whether fourteen eggs was a good outlay or a poor one? Catching glimpses of your beloved as he read the morning paper?
“I’ve been thinking about what I can do,” Ben said, resting the paper on his knees. “I need to have a job, and as much as I love caring for your children, that isn’t enough. It’s what I’d do anyway, you see. But I thought that maybe you could help me arrange something.”
“Yes,” Phillip said immediately. “Of course.”
“I was thinking there might be other children who aren’t suited to a typical school and perhaps I could oversee their education.”
“Are you talking about starting a school?”
Ben blushed. “That sounds preposterous, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
“I don’t have a head for business, but I think we’d need capital.”
“I can help with that.” Phillip rested his teacup on the table and leaned forward.
“And I think some of my father’s set would be interested in throwing money at a school that seems modern, especially if it had the Sedgwick name attached to it.”
“Where would you do this?” Barton Hall wasn’t big enough for a school.
“I’m not certain. I haven’t worked out any of the details.”
“Will you let me help? The plain fact of the matter is that I need something to do with myself too. Smythe doesn’t need me, and Ned is learning everything Smythe has to teach. But I’m—Ben, I don’t have a lot of talents, but I’m good at telling people what to do and having them obey me. Let me do that in your service.”
Ben looked at him with wide eyes. “Yes. Thank you.” His voice cracked on the last word. “There’s nothing I’d want more.”
There was more Phillip wanted to hear from Ben, but this was a start, and for now that would be enough.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ben found Alice on the small terrace beside the Crawfords’ house, Walsh kneeling on the ground beside her to adjust the angle of her easel. Alice spotted him first, greeting him with a wave of her paintbrush that caused a spray of green watercolor to land on Walsh.
“Oh, drat, sorry about that, Peter,” she said, dabbing Walsh’s collar with her handkerchief.
“It’ll match the blue on my cuffs. Good morning, Sedgwick,” he said cheerfully, getting to his feet and gathering his hat and coat.
“Don’t leave on my account,” Ben said. “I can come back later.”
“Or you could both stay. For heaven’s sake.”
