John’s gaze softened in sympathy. “My father was ill just before I went into the army. His death was one of the things that precipitated my decision to enlist.”
There was something in the way he looked away as he said that last bit that had Amelia wondering about the other reasons. She wasn’t about to pry, however. If he didn’t tell her, it was because he didn’t want her to know.
She pushed her glasses up from where they had slid on her nose. “I’d be more than happy to offer my assistance wherever possible.”
“Good,” he said. “We can start tomorrow morning.”
“So soon? Why the rush?”
“Markham tells me Jeffers will be returning tomorrow afternoon. While I’m versed in mathematics, I never learned how to keep accounts. I thought you could help me make sense of them so I won’t embarrass myself when I meet him.”
“Mr. Jeffers would be happy to go over them in detail with you.”
Lowenbrock hesitated and Amelia waited, wondering what he was thinking.
Finally he released his breath. “It’s silly, I know, but I don’t want to appear lacking. It might be because of my years in the army, where to show weakness meant you were the subject of endless ridicule. Or perhaps the fact that I grew up ingenteel poverty.” His mouth turned down for a moment. “It’s probably a combination of both, but I’d rather not appear as though I don’t belong here even if that’s the case.”
His honesty humbled her. “You belong here, my lord. Of that I have no doubt.”
Lowenbrock’s gaze settled on hers for several long moments. “I’d like to be friends, Miss Weston.”
She felt a twinge of guilt about her deceit. “Of course.”
“Then maybe we can dispense with the ‘my lords.’”
For a moment she was shocked by his request, but when she considered his upbringing, she found she couldn’t blame him. He’d lived his life never expecting to become a member of the nobility, let alone a marquess. He was only one step below a duke.
She chewed on her lip and stopped immediately when she saw the way his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. Her uncle had hated that habit. She’d taught herself to stop doing it, but in the years since his passing had fallen into the practice again.
“Should I call you Lowenbrock?”
“If you must. I might not answer you right away though. I’m still not used to the title. It will probably feel as though you’re referring to someone else.”
She opened her mouth to say something about understanding how that felt but then snapped it closed again. Horror settled over her when she realized she’d almost admitted how difficult it had been for her to answer to the name Molly.
She pulled her scattered thoughts together before saying, “It will be strange for me, as well. Lowenbrock was my uncle.”
“Perhaps, in time, you can use my given name. It’s what I’m used to, after all. I’ve never been anything but John to my family and Evans to my fellow officers.”
She felt a little thrill go through her at his request. She’d never be able to call him by his Christian name, however. That felt too intimate. “We’ll try Lowenbrock for now. You’ll be accustomed to it before you know it.”
“I don’t have any choice in the matter.” He gave his head a small shake as though to clear the strange mood that had settled over him. “At any rate, perhaps we can start after breakfast tomorrow? Markham can join us as well. The two of you can fill in the gaps in my knowledge so I don’t come out looking like a fool before my steward.”
“We’ll see you then. Breakfast is normally served at eight, but I know that is early. I can ask the staff to serve later in the morning.”
“Eight works for me. I’m normally up a little earlier, but that will give me the opportunity to visit the stables. Perhaps I’ll be able to choose a horse and go for a ride.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes lit with amusement as he continued. “I do need to get a start on working off these excellent meals after all. I don’t want to become that portly gentleman you imagined.”
Amelia smiled in response to his jest. “The staff is efficient and loyal. You needn’t concern yourself that it will be difficult to settle in.”
“I’ve never been head of a household before. You’ll have to ensure I stay on the correct path. Let me know if I’m being too soft on them. Or heaven forbid, too much of a tyrant.”
She shook her head. “I doubt the latter is possible.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, at eight.”
She stood, and he did as well. “I look forward to it.”
As she swept from the room, she realized that statement was truer than she’d imagined possible when she first learned the new Marquess of Lowenbrock would soon be in residence. It was easy being in the man’s presence. He had a way of putting one at ease without too much effort. She would have to be careful. She’d already come close to betraying herself with no prodding on his part.