Poignant emotion tightened her throat. He seemed to have nobody. She could hardly believe he’d lived a life so devoid of affection. For a man of his generous spirit, that was a tragic waste. The same lunatic heart that danced at the sight of him urged her to fold him tight in her arms and promise he’d never be alone again.
She resisted the impulse. He was a proud man, and her pity would appall him. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. For all her faults, I loved her, and I think I was the only person in the world who came near to understanding her.”
She placed her hand on his arm and tried to ignore how the contact made her pulse skip. “Did you see your father after leaving Penton Wyck?”
She caught a fleeting glimpse of long-held and well-hidden sadness. “We met three times, twice when I was a boy, and once when I was in London as a young officer. We were too unfamiliar with each other to form any real bond, despite our blood ties. Did you know him?”
“When I was a child. He was very like your brother. Quiet. Conscientious. Kind. But I was too young to know him well.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”
“It helps. I feel like I’m drifting in fog. There’s so much I don’t know—and everything here is so settled and longstanding. I’ve mostly lived aboard ship. Occasionally a vessel would feel like home, my first command in particular. She was a darling. But—”
“It’s not the same as this house where your ancestors have held sway since the Wars of the Roses.”
“Exactly. I knew you’d understand.” He placed his bare hand over hers where it circled his arm. His touch jolted her with raw shock. “So when it comes to this place, I appreciate your thoughts. I’m used to handling a ship, not a great estate.”
They walked toward the stable doors, arm in ar
m again. “I’ve run my father’s household since I was twelve. I’m rather in the habit of taking charge. After my mother’s death, I had to. Papa will happily go without eating for a week when he’s on the hunt for some obscure reference about Julian the Apostate.”
“Not very exciting for a young girl.”
“I’ve been left to run wild, my aunt says.”
“Your aunt?” They entered the snowy yard behind the house.
“Yes, my mother’s sister. She lives in Newcastle, along with my four beautiful cousins, all of whom made advantageous marriages.”
“She never tried to find you a husband?”
“She brought me out in local society, but I didn’t take.” Bess cringed to recall how gawky and provincial she’d felt at the Newcastle assemblies.
Channing’s bewilderment went some way toward soothing the sting. “I can’t imagine why not. You’re utterly charming.”
She stopped so sharply that his hand dropped from her arm. “Nobody’s ever called me that.”
“You’ve charmed me into fixing the Abbey and holding a Christmas dinner and, most horrifying of all, playacting.”
“I made you do all that,” she mumbled, even as her heart expanded under his praise.
“No, you made me want to do it. There’s a difference.”
She studied him. Low cloud hid the sun, but the snow’s white glare threw him into stark relief. “You’re a kind man, Lord Channing.”
It was his turn to look uncomfortable. “Nonsense. It’s blatantly obvious that if Newcastle didn’t fall at your feet, there’s something wrong with Newcastle, not you. How old were you?”
“Sixteen the first time, eighteen the last.” In all the busy years since, she’d almost forgotten the ignominy of failing to cut a dash, and of her aunt’s bitter and voluble disappointment.
“You’re an original, Miss Farrar. Believe me, in London, you’d be the toast of the town. As a humble second son, I’d have been completely below your lofty notice. You’d cut me direct and waltz away in the arms of a handsome marquess with fifty thousand a year.”
She laughed wryly. “What nonsense you talk.”
Especially as she was positive that even as a humble second son, he’d stand out as exceptional.
“At least my nonsense has made you smile. Did no fellow have the brains to see what a jewel you are?”
Her cheeks heated under his admiration. If they hadn’t been in the open, with interruption likely at any moment, she’d kiss him again.