Laurel Ames - Tempted

“I want you to take him in charge. You made it through school. If he has a prayer in the world, it is you.”

“Me? Take him in charge? But who is he?”

“Helen’s son, Ralph. He is incorrigible. Well?”

“Sorry to be struck stupid, but I did not know of his existence until this moment.”

“And I did not know of yours until today,” Ralph said resentfully.

“So we are even then?”

“Not by a long shot. I suppose I won’t even get the barrens now,” Ralph countered.

“The barrens?” Evan asked.

“Don’t you remember anything?” his father demanded. “The moorlands. Not good for much except pasturing sheep, but they would yield a living if properly managed.”

Ralph looked up, a spark of malice in his eyes. “Is that where Terry is to be exiled now?”

“That is none of your affair, you young cur.”

“Do you like farming?” Evan asked blankly.

“No, I should sell it and go back to London.”

“Back to London?”

“He was sent down from school a month ago, but he copped the letter out of the post and has been philandering in London.”

“Pretty exciting this time of year, all littered with the ton?” Evan asked.

“And expensive.”

“He ran out of money and into debt,” Lord Mountjoy said, as though Ralph could not hear him.

“How many subjects did you fail?” Evan asked casually.

“All of them,” Ralph said proudly.

“A great temptation, the life at Oxford or Cambridge, as I recall. Better than half my class got sent down, for one

reason or another, by the middle of each term. Their fathers got them back in, of course, for as long as it seemed worthwhile.”

“It’s a total waste,” Ralph said.

“Not to the fathers, who have got rid of a troublesome lad for months at a time.”

Evan had not been aware of his father leaving the room, but when he bothered to look around, he noticed his absence.

“Were you sent there to get rid of you?” Ralph asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Toying with the maids, or was it the bottle?”

“I killed my elder brother.”

Ralph gasped. “You never!”

“Ask anyone. Tell me, of all these subjects you failed, does any of them have an appeal for you?”

“No.”

“You’re telling me you are interested in absolutely nothing?”

“I like poetry.”

“Poetry? That’s a tough one. Never could quite get it myself.”

“I only like it because it’s quick to read.”

“Quick to read, long to understand. Suppose we make a deal. You teach me poetry and I’ll tell you what I know about geometry.”

“What use is that to me?”

“Can’t fire a gun, even a little one, without geometry.”

“I’m a fair shot.”

“But could you fire a twelve pounder and have the vaguest notion where the ball would fall, what elevation to use to hit your target?”

“With practice.”

“Not good enough. You can’t be all day finding the enemy’s range or you would be blown to bits while you are about it. Take it from me, geometry can be useful for a variety of things. Of course, we shall have to tackle algebra first. You will need to know how to solve a formula. Tell you what. You pick out a book of poetry for me to study and I will hunt up my textbooks. They must be at Gram’s house. We’ll start after lunch tomorrow.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“Well, I think if you understand poetry, the least you can do is help me out. It isn’t easy courting your sister when I am only an ignorant soldier.”

“You and Angel?”

“No, Judith, but keep that quiet if you would. I’m not entirely sure she will have me.”

“She’d be a fool not to.”

“What, a murderer? It’s only by the greatest exertion that I will ever prove myself worthy of her.”

Evan left young Ralph staring at his back. The boy was not much different than the regular run of recruits. One had only to find a common ground, appeal to that and establish a rapport. About lying to the boy and manipulating him, Evan had no qualms. One did what one had to in time of war.

But this was not war…or was it? Perhaps he had not exaggerated his fears of gaining Judith’s hand, if Lady Mountjoy had any say. What better way to win that good lady over than by helping her recalcitrant son?

Was there another reason? Perhaps he did see a bit of himself in Ralph. His own rebellion had not been as blatant and he’d had more cause…Of course, he did not know what Ralph’s upbringing had been like. Perhaps it had been worse than his own. He did know his father had a talent for mishandling striplings.

There was also Judith. Perhaps she was attached to this brooding nephew of hers. Any way he looked at it, helping Ralph had to be a winning proposition, but only if he succeeded. He went to get the key to search for his old textbooks in the attic of the dower house.

He was right about remembering the place. Except for the covers over Gram’s furniture, it looked the same, and it was heavy with memories of her. She had been like a mother to him. Why this was, he could not quite remember. He thought his own mother must have been rather sickly. He found his trunk of books in his bedroom. It was a room he remembered well. “Why didn’t I come back in time?” he asked the empty air, then went back to the main house.

“Well?”

Evan jumped, despite his prone position on the bed. That one word shouted at a man comfortably ensconced in the Times made him cringe. “Am I the only one you shout at?”

“You don’t attend me half the time,” his father said from the doorway. “How else am I to get your attention? Are you going to take the boy in charge?”

“On one condition.”

“What is that?”

“That you do not interfere or question what I am doing.”

“Interfere?”

“I had a commander who always trusted me. I might not do things the way he expected, but I always got results. That was enough for him. I should think you could trust me that far.”

“I have no choice. Nothing I say makes the slightest impression on Ralph.”

“Well, as long as he regards you as our common nemesis, I may be able to gain his confidence. So have a care you shout at us both in equal measure. I would not want him to think I am conspiring with the enemy.”

“Nemesis indeed! Do you think I don’t have the boy’s best interests at heart?”

“No, I believe you do.” Evan’s eyes had strayed back to the paper when a sudden thought struck him. “Only tell me truthfully, was I ever that callow?”

“You were worse, and sanctimonious into the bargain.”

Evan shuddered a little. “I am justly punished then. How could you stand me?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I was forgetting.”

“And don’t think you can steal the paper away to your room every day when others might wish to read it.”

“Sorry, Father.”

Lord Mountjoy harrumphed and left. On the way down the stairs he tried to count the number of times Evan or Terry had said that to him, not paying the slightest attention to what they had done, so that he had to issue the same command again the next day. He would never understand these young bloods—never.

Evan rode with Judith again in the morning, and she showed him her favorite paths. Some of these were not entirely suitable for riding, in that they had to duck limbs and brambles and even get off and walk in places. They fetched up in the garden of the dower house to cool the horses. “Father says I can take up living here,” Evan remarked, glancing up at the dusty windows.

“Oh, I am glad. I do not like to see it shut up like this.”

“I was thinking of that, too. It’s a big house. It will take some work to set it to rights.”