worry?” Amelia asked.
Alexander chuckled. “We look after our ships; they are as precious as the crew, in many cases more so. Did he serve at Trafalgar?”
“He did,” Amelia said quietly. “His letters were jolly, but he couldn’t hide some of the horror he’d seen.”
“No battle is easy for anyone, let alone a young boy,” Alexander acknowledged. “What rank is he?”
“Able Seaman at the moment, but he has hopes of becoming a Petty Officer soon,” Amelia said proudly.
“If he works hard he will achieve that rank and more,” Alexander said. “The Navy is the one place where hard work is rewarded. I hope he does well; it’s a fine career to have. How long have you been with your uncle?” Alexander needed to change the subject. A lump appeared in his chest every time he was reminded of what he had lost. He felt as if he had been born to be in the navy, and it never failed to leave him struggling for breath when he realised that life had disappeared forever.
“This will be my third season. I’m glad to say it will be my last,” Amelia responded with feeling.
“Really?” Alexander did not know whether or not he was surprised she was glad to be returning home or that they had not met during her first season. Admittedly, he had been missing for most of the last season.
“Yes, I’ll soon be three and twenty, time to return home and establish my life there. Staying with my uncle has been a diversion but cannot continue indefinitely,” Amelia tried to sound grateful about staying with her uncle and his family, but the reality was that she would be glad to leave London.
She was two and twenty and yet she had attended only two seasons. The reality of her family’s position hit home to Alexander and something else as well. He felt himself colour and was hopeful she would not notice it. He would not have met her during her previous seasons because she would have belonged to the group of people he would have considered beneath his notice. He would not have been rude to anyone, oh no, not the great Captain Worthington, but he would not have sought out any lady’s hand in that group either. He felt shame that he was now willing, no desperate, for her company when, if he still had sight, he would not have sought her out at all.
“I am genuinely sorry our paths did not cross sooner,” Alexander said quietly. He meant the words, although he was still battling with feelings of shame at the reflection of his own character. He recalled the words she had first used to describe him.
“Oh, you had your friends; I had benches to polish. We were both busy,” Amelia said flippantly, but she had noticed his flush. They were both intelligent and knew full well why their paths had not crossed, and it made her heart sink a little. The ton were never willing to step outside their closed group unless the money of the lower classes was needed, of course. She was realistic. It offered no flattery to her that he wanted to be in her company; her dog was the bigger attraction.
Samson had behaved impeccably throughout the walk. Amelia had taken them on a circular route in order to eventually return to the valet. She was thankful when she saw his form on the bench. Needing to be prepared for the catastrophe that could happen if Samson misbehaved had kept her on edge, but being reminded of her true position in society had come as an unwelcome jolt to her.
“We are returning to your valet,” Amelia informed him. “We have reached the end of our excursion.”
Alexander could have cursed that they were approaching Peterson. He wanted to say more, to rectify something that had gone wrong during their walk, but now he could not. Amelia stopped and, when Peterson stood and offered his arm to his master, Amelia called Samson to her. The dog must have sensed something amiss in the mood between the couple, as he meekly left Alexander and sat before Amelia.
“Miss Basingstoke, I cannot express how much the walk and the sense
Alexander chuckled. “We look after our ships; they are as precious as the crew, in many cases more so. Did he serve at Trafalgar?”
“He did,” Amelia said quietly. “His letters were jolly, but he couldn’t hide some of the horror he’d seen.”
“No battle is easy for anyone, let alone a young boy,” Alexander acknowledged. “What rank is he?”
“Able Seaman at the moment, but he has hopes of becoming a Petty Officer soon,” Amelia said proudly.
“If he works hard he will achieve that rank and more,” Alexander said. “The Navy is the one place where hard work is rewarded. I hope he does well; it’s a fine career to have. How long have you been with your uncle?” Alexander needed to change the subject. A lump appeared in his chest every time he was reminded of what he had lost. He felt as if he had been born to be in the navy, and it never failed to leave him struggling for breath when he realised that life had disappeared forever.
“This will be my third season. I’m glad to say it will be my last,” Amelia responded with feeling.
“Really?” Alexander did not know whether or not he was surprised she was glad to be returning home or that they had not met during her first season. Admittedly, he had been missing for most of the last season.
“Yes, I’ll soon be three and twenty, time to return home and establish my life there. Staying with my uncle has been a diversion but cannot continue indefinitely,” Amelia tried to sound grateful about staying with her uncle and his family, but the reality was that she would be glad to leave London.
She was two and twenty and yet she had attended only two seasons. The reality of her family’s position hit home to Alexander and something else as well. He felt himself colour and was hopeful she would not notice it. He would not have met her during her previous seasons because she would have belonged to the group of people he would have considered beneath his notice. He would not have been rude to anyone, oh no, not the great Captain Worthington, but he would not have sought out any lady’s hand in that group either. He felt shame that he was now willing, no desperate, for her company when, if he still had sight, he would not have sought her out at all.
“I am genuinely sorry our paths did not cross sooner,” Alexander said quietly. He meant the words, although he was still battling with feelings of shame at the reflection of his own character. He recalled the words she had first used to describe him.
“Oh, you had your friends; I had benches to polish. We were both busy,” Amelia said flippantly, but she had noticed his flush. They were both intelligent and knew full well why their paths had not crossed, and it made her heart sink a little. The ton were never willing to step outside their closed group unless the money of the lower classes was needed, of course. She was realistic. It offered no flattery to her that he wanted to be in her company; her dog was the bigger attraction.
Samson had behaved impeccably throughout the walk. Amelia had taken them on a circular route in order to eventually return to the valet. She was thankful when she saw his form on the bench. Needing to be prepared for the catastrophe that could happen if Samson misbehaved had kept her on edge, but being reminded of her true position in society had come as an unwelcome jolt to her.
“We are returning to your valet,” Amelia informed him. “We have reached the end of our excursion.”
Alexander could have cursed that they were approaching Peterson. He wanted to say more, to rectify something that had gone wrong during their walk, but now he could not. Amelia stopped and, when Peterson stood and offered his arm to his master, Amelia called Samson to her. The dog must have sensed something amiss in the mood between the couple, as he meekly left Alexander and sat before Amelia.
“Miss Basingstoke, I cannot express how much the walk and the sense
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