Drops of Gold(31)

“Corbin,” he answered without missing a beat. “He runs a stud farm about fifteen miles north of here.”

“And someone else lives with ‘all the books.’” Marion remembered well the conversations she’d had with Caroline.

Mr. Jonquil sat quietly for a moment, a look of contemplation on his face. Then he chuckled again. She loved hearing him laugh. “The brother who lives with the books must be Jason—Chasin’, according to Caroline. He is a barrister, and his office, which Caroline has visited, is absolutely crammed full of books.”

She grinned, enjoying their conversation immensely. “Flip, she told me, lives all over.”

Mr. Jonquil nodded. “As earl, he has more properties than he knows what to do with.”

“Someone else lives with ‘all the blue.’ I defy you to make sense of that one.”

“Blue?” That same look of concentration, forehead wrinkled, lips pressed together in a shadow of what must have once been a charismatic childhood pout.

Marion suddenly had a wholly uncharacteristic urge to kiss him. Was her mind going as well as her heart? She could feel herself blush, probably great splotches of bright red.

“Stanley,” Mr. Jonquil suddenly said, sounding almost surprised. “She must mean Stanley.”

“But why blue?” Thank heaven for the distraction. Perhaps Mr. Jonquil hadn’t noticed her heightened color.

“Stanley is a captain with the Thirteenth Light Dragoons,” Mr. Jonquil said, something like pride in his voice as he told her. “Their uniforms are—”

“Blue.” Marion knew the dragoon uniform well. Her brother, Robert, had served with the Fifteenth.

“Caroline and I saw several young officers from Stanley’s regiment in London earlier this year. Obviously, she remembered the uniforms.”

Marion pulled her thoughts from her brother, knowing such musings would only lead to tears. She had no desire to cry on a sunny, crisp day when she might otherwise enjoy the company of a handsome gentleman who looked happy for the first time in weeks.

“One of your brothers,” Marion pressed on, “I am told, is a disciplinarian of the worst sort, while yet another is, apparently, afflicted with some kind of painful condition. I have not yet determined if these two circumstances are related.”

Now Mr. Jonquil looked thoroughly confused. “A disciplinarian?” He shook his head. “No. I can’t say any of them could be described that way. The painful condition could very well be Stanley—he suffered a very painful injury in the war.”

Marion didn’t think so. “It would have to be the last two brothers, sir. She counted them off as she said it. All six.”

“Only Harold and Stanley are left. Harold is to take holy orders soon.”

“Let us hope, then, he does not espouse beatings as Caroline seemed to imply. Such a thing would hardly recommend him to his parishioners. And Charlie?”

“Seventeen and still at school.”

“Harrow?”

“I should think not!” Mr. Jonquil blustered theatrically, pulling a deep laugh out of Marion. “We are an Eton family, Miss Wood. Harrow? Hah!”

They sat there on the blanket chuckling and smiling as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Marion wished it really were, that she were a well-appointed lady seated beside this charming gentleman rather than the plain governess she knew herself to be. ’Twas so enjoyable to pass a morning this way, laughing at such things as school rivalry and childish mispronunciations.

“You still have not solved the mystery, sir,” Marion said lightly, smiling across at him. “Caroline specifically said that two of your ‘big boys’ lived in Painage and Beatin’ and—Oh no!” The answer suddenly hit her. “The pronunciation is a little odd, but, I believe she means—”

“Cambridge and Eton,” they said in unison before dissolving into further whoops of laughter.

“Poor Harry,” Mr. Jonquil said. “To be so unjustly accused of mean-spiritedness. He considers himself something of a model of saintliness and clerical kindness. I absolutely have to tell Flip about this.” He wiped a tear of amusement from his eyes. “He and I christened Harold ‘Holy Harry,’ you know. He’s been bound for the church from birth and has acted the part every day of his life.”

“Much to your obvious amusement.” Marion smiled.

Mr. Jonquil’s only response was a faintly reminiscent laugh. “Well, Miss Wood, I seem to be quite a hand at solving riddles today. Have you any others to which I might apply my expertise?”

Hundreds, she thought, watching him as her heart thudded alarmingly in her chest. He looked so entirely different. Amusement had replaced discontent in his eyes. The lines on his face had softened. His perpetually stern mouth turned up in an easy smile. She knew, in that moment, what she needed to ask, what mystery she wanted him to solve for her, but she felt suddenly shy.