Page 16 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

“Thank you, my lord. That is very generous.”

“Read them quickly, for I’d like to hear what you think.”

He’d been asking me what I thought since our first meeting, so it seemed almost natural now.

He eyed me with a penetrating gaze from beneath heavy black brows. Again, I should have felt intimidated, but somehow I didn’t. Somehow I understood that he was a man with normal human feelings, perhaps due to the familiar way he’d been speaking to me, or perhaps due to the state in which I’d seen him on the first evening, when we’d both been standing on the roof and he’d been so melancholy I’d worried about leaving him alone. The thing that was different about him was that he wasexpressinghis feelings—and expressing them to me.

“It is the way of the Englishman—and Englishwoman—to send their children to an institution, and you were no exception to that, Miss Robbins. Tell me of your experiences at Mrs. Southey’s school. You seemed to want me to think that you had good experiences there, but you were also mistreated, I suppose? And the teachers, the cruel ones, beat you and punished you for even minor infractions, breaking your spirit and making you feel as if you must feel guilty twenty-four hours of every day in order to make amends and eke your way into heaven?”

“No, not at all.”

“And the food was rancid and barely edible, much less palatable.”

“No, it’s not true.”

“You are smiling. My words amuse you. Why? Tell me.” He suddenly looked rather severe.

“Forgive me, sir. I meant no offense.”

“Explain.”

It had grown so dark that I could barely make out his expression, but I thought he looked rather sullen.

“I’m sorry, but I did not have that kind of experience. My teachers were kind—most of them—and I had one or two friends at all times, from an early age, whose situations were similar to mine, and we enjoyed each other’s company. There were bullies, from time to time, who made life difficult. Was your school as cruel as you describe?” My heart constricted at the thought.

He puffed on his pipe while I talked, then blew out a long cloud of smoke and said, “I’m glad your experience of school was relatively good. As for me, let us just say that I got in a lot of fights, and I lost most of them. Then a gamekeeper, a wise old man, taught me better fighting skills, such as how to hold one’s fist and strike in a manner to cause the greatest impact. But you don’t want to hear about that.”

“I am sorry you got in so many fights.” My spirit was heavy as I thought of him being forced to physically defend himself.

“Yes, well, I daresay after I learned, I won them all and the other boys decided not to fight me—not as often, anyway.” He took another draw on his pipe. “I was given good food, had adequate heat in winter, and I learned to defend myself—an essential skill, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed.”

“And you were not taught to fear God and tremble in terror that your sins would find you out?”

“I was taught to fear God, of course,” I replied, “but I like to read the Bible for myself, and I consider that fear to be more of a reverence, as Scripture also says that love drives out fear, and we are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.”

“Well said, Miss Robbins. You read the Bible for yourself, do you, and use your own sense to understand it?”

“I have always believed that Scripture is true and helpful, and I like to draw my own conclusions about what it means.” I lifted my chin, daring him to say that I should allow the clergy to explain the Bible to me.

“Good. I respect that. Since you have no family, Miss Robbins, tell me of your friends.”

“My friends, sir?” What could he possibly wish to know about my friends?

“Do you exchange gifts on holidays? Do you employ one another’s help to snare an eligible man’s attentions? Or do you simply talk of the weather and the state of the roads?”

“We do exchange gifts on holidays. My closest friends are Hattie and Susan, and the three of us share many of our deepest hopes and feelings. We have never assisted one another in ‘snaring an eligible man’s attentions,’ as you say, but we certainly talk of more than the weather and the state of the roads.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but I pretended not to notice and continued. “And you, Lord Brookhaven? What of your friends? Do you speak of more than the weather?”

“Tit for tat, eh?” He gave a wry almost-smile. “I suppose it is a bit different with men, but yes, I have one or two trusted friends with whom I speak of more than the weather.” He took a quick draw on his pipe. “My aunt, Lady Derringer, who was my father’s sister, is a widow and a good friend. Does that surprise you? She and my uncle, who died two years ago, were closer to me than my own parents. They were unable to have children of their own.”

No wonder the earl had looked so distraught on the roof that first night. He’d lost his uncle and the woman who had been like a mother to him in a relatively short period of time.

“Have you ever lost anyone close to you, Miss Robbins?”

“In truth, I have not, sir.” Was it worse to lose someone close to you? Or to never have anyone close? But I refrained from asking.