situation in which I could bring credit to her family name.”
“She said that?”
“Crisply and clearly.”
“Why didn’t you?” Perry asked. “You did gain admiration in the war.”
“My dear friend,” Cate said in imitation of Perry’s drawl, “India is my Islington, far, far from all I value and enjoy.”
“All the same, not surprising if your family didn’t understand.”
Cate’s teeth clenched. Beneath his family’s “understanding” he’d recognized the lifelong conviction that he was destined to make a pig’s dinner of anything he turned his hand to. They had some reason. He knew that.
There’d been his brief attempt at studying for the Church, ended by too strong a taste for pretty women, strong drink, and action. He’d followed that path only with the dream of becoming rector of St. Wilfred’s, the closest parish to Keynings.
After that, his father had found him a place with the East India Company, which was newly expanding into power and wealth. The possibility for adventure had appealed, but when he’d faced the fact that he’d be sent to the far side of the world, he’d found a way to get thrown out. There’d been true reason to protest the company’s greed, but he’d picked that fight to escape exile.
Only later had he discovered that exile had been his father’s intent.
He’d been twenty-one then, and he’d reencountered Perry in London, so he’d settled into enjoying life—without the means for it. When the debts threatened to drown him he’d been at his father’s mercy.
That was when his father had spoken bluntly. He didn’t believe in second sons hanging around the family home as if they had a right to it. It was unhealthy for them, and led to discord. The older son and heir was already married and father of one healthy child—a girl, but a boy would follow. Cate must make a life for himself, one in no way connected to Keynings.
He’d been ordered into the army.
His father had hoped his regiment would be sent to the Americas—he’d said as much—but in a twist of fate and army politics, it had taken Cate only as far as Hanover to begin with, and kept him in Europe for the rest of the war. It had seemed far enough at the time, though once he’d become accustomed to the army he’d discovered a talent for leadership and fighting.
And, alas, a strong disinclination to follow the rules.
Perhaps he’d have been better off across the Atlantic, where the army had had to embrace irregular procedures to fight in an untamed land. He’d showed a natural talent for irregular procedures. What was more, the end of war hadn’t ended all action. Disgruntled colonists seemed likely to create trouble soon, and the native tribes were objecting to invasion of their lands. Even if there wasn’t another war, the Americas presented a land to conquer and estates to be carved out.
But it wouldn’t be England, and any estate, no matter how large, wouldn’t be Keynings. Perhaps it was insane to be marrying money in order to create a pale imitation of paradise, but it was the best he could do.
The hackney disgorged them outside the building just off St. James’s Square, where Perry had rooms. The location was admirably situated for court, clubs, parks, and all London’s pleasures, and “rooms” didn’t do justice to the extent of his residence. His home was staffed by his valet, a footman, a man-cook, and a lad of all work, and furnished in the height of elegance.
As he’d said, the wonders of sinecures, three of which brought him a handsome income.
The messenger from Keynings was sitting upright in the tiny reception room, his three-cornered hat clutched in big hands. He rose instantly.
“Jeb,” Cate said, trying not to show inappropriate pleasure, for it was clear the news wasn’t good.
Jeb Littlefair came as close to a friend as possible between a groom and a son of the house. They were of an age, had played together as boys and ridden together as youths.
“She said that?”
“Crisply and clearly.”
“Why didn’t you?” Perry asked. “You did gain admiration in the war.”
“My dear friend,” Cate said in imitation of Perry’s drawl, “India is my Islington, far, far from all I value and enjoy.”
“All the same, not surprising if your family didn’t understand.”
Cate’s teeth clenched. Beneath his family’s “understanding” he’d recognized the lifelong conviction that he was destined to make a pig’s dinner of anything he turned his hand to. They had some reason. He knew that.
There’d been his brief attempt at studying for the Church, ended by too strong a taste for pretty women, strong drink, and action. He’d followed that path only with the dream of becoming rector of St. Wilfred’s, the closest parish to Keynings.
After that, his father had found him a place with the East India Company, which was newly expanding into power and wealth. The possibility for adventure had appealed, but when he’d faced the fact that he’d be sent to the far side of the world, he’d found a way to get thrown out. There’d been true reason to protest the company’s greed, but he’d picked that fight to escape exile.
Only later had he discovered that exile had been his father’s intent.
He’d been twenty-one then, and he’d reencountered Perry in London, so he’d settled into enjoying life—without the means for it. When the debts threatened to drown him he’d been at his father’s mercy.
That was when his father had spoken bluntly. He didn’t believe in second sons hanging around the family home as if they had a right to it. It was unhealthy for them, and led to discord. The older son and heir was already married and father of one healthy child—a girl, but a boy would follow. Cate must make a life for himself, one in no way connected to Keynings.
He’d been ordered into the army.
His father had hoped his regiment would be sent to the Americas—he’d said as much—but in a twist of fate and army politics, it had taken Cate only as far as Hanover to begin with, and kept him in Europe for the rest of the war. It had seemed far enough at the time, though once he’d become accustomed to the army he’d discovered a talent for leadership and fighting.
And, alas, a strong disinclination to follow the rules.
Perhaps he’d have been better off across the Atlantic, where the army had had to embrace irregular procedures to fight in an untamed land. He’d showed a natural talent for irregular procedures. What was more, the end of war hadn’t ended all action. Disgruntled colonists seemed likely to create trouble soon, and the native tribes were objecting to invasion of their lands. Even if there wasn’t another war, the Americas presented a land to conquer and estates to be carved out.
But it wouldn’t be England, and any estate, no matter how large, wouldn’t be Keynings. Perhaps it was insane to be marrying money in order to create a pale imitation of paradise, but it was the best he could do.
The hackney disgorged them outside the building just off St. James’s Square, where Perry had rooms. The location was admirably situated for court, clubs, parks, and all London’s pleasures, and “rooms” didn’t do justice to the extent of his residence. His home was staffed by his valet, a footman, a man-cook, and a lad of all work, and furnished in the height of elegance.
As he’d said, the wonders of sinecures, three of which brought him a handsome income.
The messenger from Keynings was sitting upright in the tiny reception room, his three-cornered hat clutched in big hands. He rose instantly.
“Jeb,” Cate said, trying not to show inappropriate pleasure, for it was clear the news wasn’t good.
Jeb Littlefair came as close to a friend as possible between a groom and a son of the house. They were of an age, had played together as boys and ridden together as youths.
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