“Yer welcome, miss.”
“It’s just that I have no one to talk about it with,” she said in a rush, staring down at the lone bun on her plate. “For my brother to brawl with Lord Vale like this...It’s very confusing.”
Gil walked over to the sideboard and brought back a dish of coddled eggs. “You made some fine friends at that house party you went to, didn’t you, miss?”
She twisted to look at him as he spooned eggs onto her plate. He didn’t meet her eyes. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged. There was a wash of red high on his cheeks. “Talk in the kitchen. Have some o’ that.” He handed her a fork.
“I expect they were referring to the Hopedale sisters.” She absently ate a bite of eggs. “They probably won’t ever want to see me again after last night.”
“Are you sure?”
Rebecca poked at the mound of yellow eggs and then took another bite. “I doubt anyone in society will be receiving us.”
“They’d be right lucky to have you at one of them fancy parties,” Gil said from behind her.
She twisted to look at him.
His brow was furrowed, but he smoothed it as she watched. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, miss.”
“No, I don’t mind.” She smiled at him. “It’s rather sweet of you.”
“Thank you, miss.”
She turned back to the table and took a sip of tea. It was cooler now. “It’s just that even if they would see me, I don’t know if I could talk to the Misses Hopedale about this. When we converse, it’s usually about the weather and types of hats, which I don’t know that much about but seems to be a subject they enjoy. And once in a while we discuss which is better, lemon custard or chocolate pudding? It’s rather a leap to go from puddings to my brother attempting to murder a peer.”
“Yes, miss.” He left her side again to walk to the sideboard. “There’s a lovely herring here and some gammon.”
“But maybe that’s what London ladies always talk about.” She took her fork and prodded the bun on her plate. “I wouldn’t know. I’m from the Colonies, and there’s lots that we do different there.”
“Is there, miss?” Gil hesitated, then picked up the plate with the herring on it and came over to her.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Why, in the Colonies, a man’s birth isn’t nearly so important.”
“Is that so?” He placed a portion of the herring on her plate.
“Mmm.” She ate a bite of fish. “That’s not to say that people don’t judge other people. I think that happens everywhere. But it’s more a matter of what the man has accomplished in his life and if he has money. And you know, anyone can earn money if he works hard enough. I say, this herring is very good.”
“I’ll tell Cook you said so,” Gil said from behind her. “But any man, miss?”
“What?” She was rather enjoying the herring. Maybe all she’d needed was a proper breakfast.
“Can any man become successful in America?”
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. Gil’s expression was tense, as if her answer mattered greatly to him. “Yes, I think so. After all, my brother grew up in a one-room cabin. Did you know that?”
He shook his head.
“It’s true. And now he’s very respected in Boston. The ladies all want him at their parties, and many gentlemen consult him on business. Of course”—she turned back around to fork up a bite of fish—“he started out with Uncle Thomas’s importing business, but it was a very small company when Samuel inherited it. Now it’s quite the biggest in Boston, I believe, all due to Samuel’s hard work and quick wits. And I know many other gentlemen in Boston who had humble beginnings and have become very successful.”
“I see.”
“I’m not really used to people like the aristocrats here. People who are so bound by the past and expectations. For instance, I don’t understand why Lady Emeline has decided to marry Lord Vale.”
“They’re lords and ladies, miss. Stands to reason that they’d marry one of their own.”
“Yes, but what if they fall in love with someone who isn’t a lord or lady?” Rebecca scowled at her herring. “I mean, love isn’t something one can control, is it? That’s the wonder of it. That a person might fall in love with someone completely unexpected. Romeo and Juliet, for example.”
“Who, miss?”
“You know. Shakespeare.”
“Afraid I haven’t heard of them people.”
She twisted about to peer up at him. “Oh, that’s a pity; it’s a very good play up until the ending. You see, Romeo falls in love with Juliet, who is the daughter of his enemy, or rather, his family’s enemy.”
“Doesn’t sound very sharp of him,” Gil commented practically.
“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? He didn’t have any choice in who he fell in love with, whether or not it was sharp of him.”
“Huh,” said the footman. He didn’t look particularly convinced about the overpowering nature of love. “So, then what happened?”
“Oh, there’s several duels and a secret marriage and then they die.”
His eyebrows shot up. “They die?”
“I told you the end wasn’t particularly good,” Rebecca said defensively. “Anyway, it’s all very romantic.”
“Think living might be better than bein’ dead and romantic,” Gil said.
“Well, perhaps you’re right. Love doesn’t seem to have made my brother very happy.”
“Is that why he attacked Lord Vale, then?”
“I guess so. He loves Lady Emeline.” She glanced at him guiltily. “But you shouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t, miss.”
She smiled at him, and he smiled back, his lovely green eyes crinkling at the corners, and she thought about how comfortable he made her feel. With so many people, she spent all her time watching every word she said and constantly worrying over what they thought of her. But with Gil she could just talk.
She turned back to the table to finish her meal, secure in the knowledge that Gil was standing behind her.
EMELINE WAS IN the small sitting room of her town house, drinking tea, listening to Tante Cristelle, and wishing she could be just about anywhere else.