Page 16 of A Stroke of Luck
And if pigs could fly, she reminded herself harshly. “Ifs” would not purchase their passage back to England, or pay for a loaf of bread and a roof over their heads. So she had better keep marching to a steady drumbeat rather than think of twirling in air to an imaginary orchestra.
Prestwick listenedto the heavy thud of her steps retreating down the rutted path. A light fog had wafted in from the bay, obscuring the surrounding dunes in a mizzle of mist, and he found himself thinking that the young lady was equally difficult to make out. He had come to expect sharp sarcasm and heated harangues, so the last thing he had anticipated hearing from her lips was a learned discourse on the differences between Haydn and Beethoven. How had a raw country chit and her brothers come to possess such erudite knowledge? In spite of his resolve to keep his thoughts from straying in her direction, he could not help but be intrigued.
Glancing up at the lad working by his side, the duke decided to see what more he might be able to discover about this strange family. “Perry is short for Perseus, is it? That’s a rather unusual choice of names.”
“My father was an ardent admirer of ancient Greek civilization.” The youngest Greeley shot a quick grin at his brother. “At least I was named after a hero and not a hunk of stone.”
Seeing the lift of Prestwick’s brow, Nonny sighed and explained, “Nonny is short for Parthenon. Parthenon Pericles.”
Amused at the irony of two muddy scamps bearing such classical monikers, the duke inclined a bow. ”I am pleased to make your formal acquaintance, Perseus Agamemnon and Parthenon Pericles.” He couldn’t resist adding a flowery salutation fromThe Iliad.
Both lads looked amazed.
”Y—you are conversant with Homer in the original tongue?” exclaimed Perry in flawless Greek.
It occurred to the duke that he should be the one evincing surprise. Masking a chuckle with a wry cough, he replied, “And Socrates, Sophocles, Plato, as well as Aristophanes and Euripides.”
Perry’s face took on a wistful twist. “Papa was extremely well-versed in the classics. He was just beginning to readOedipus Rexwith me before the fever carried him and Mama off.”
“You enjoyed such scholarly study?” asked Prestwick. He had always thought he had been the only lad in the entire universe who picked up a work of Latin or Greek by choice.
“Oh, very much sir. I have tried to carry on by myself, but it is hard going. Zara is always willing to help, but I do not like to ask too often, since she has so much else to occupy her thoughts.” The scrunch of earlier hostility faded from the lad’s face, replaced by a shy hopefulness. “I—I don’t suppose you would be able answer a question or two regarding …”
The duke listened carefully, then took the time to give a detailed explanation.
The attention chased away the last vestige of reserve. Jeers and insults were forgotten as the lad peppered him with a barrage of further queries. Prestwick found such enthusiasm endearing. Indeed, Perry reminded him of a lively puppy, nearly tripping all over himself in his eagerness to discuss complexities of grammar and nuances of meaning. A bit of gentle probing revealed that the lad dearly missed his lessons, and was bursting with all manner of questions. Intelligent ones, too, for someone so young.
With great patience, he plowed through every last query, managing to acquit himself rather well, he decided, judging by the reaction his audience.
When he finally finished explaining the meaning of a particularly difficult passage fromThe Odyssey, Perry lookedat him with something akin to awe. “You seem to possess a prodigious amount of knowledge on the subject, sir.”
A small smile played on his lips. “Most gentlemen are required to study the classics.”
“But Zara holds that most gentlemen are too busy engaged in other pursuits to pay any attention to their books,” interjected Nonny. “She says that is why they are, for the most part, ignorant louts who haven’t a thought for aught but their own selfish pleasures.”
“Why would she say that?” murmured the duke, wondering just how she had acquired such a jaundiced view of society.
“Most likely because the English gentlemen we met on our journey back from Greece were driveling dastards,” came the taut reply. “The few times she ventured to ask counsel, thinking a fellow countryman might offer some help, she met with naught but slurred insults and groping hands.” Nonny’s face darkened. “And there wasn’t a damned thing we could do about it, for she wouldn’t allow us to call out the scoundrels. Said we couldn’t afford to stir up trouble.”
Prestwick tried to think of what it must have been like for three young people to make the long, arduous journey back from such distant shores, with meager funds and no one to turn to for guidance. After a moment, he realized that it was beyond the powers of his imagination. “It must have been a … trying experience,” he said rather lamely, feeling the inadequacy of such a trite platitude.
“At times,” admitted Nonny. “In Sicily, we were nearly cheated out of the passage we had paid for, but Zara had thought to keep an eye on the captain and got us on board before the dastard could slip away. Then, there were several occasions where we had to quit our lodgings in the middle of the night to avoid an … unpleasant incident with one of the other guests, even though it meant being out on the streets.”
The duke’s mouth compressed in a grim line. He had no trouble comprehending what sort of unpleasantness the lad was referring to.
“And then, of course, there was the letter from Papa’s man of affairs,” piped up Perry. “Once we landed in Plymouth, she wrote for assistance, only to be told that our relatives were refusing to acknowledge our claim to the inheritance that is rightfully due us. And given our lack of funds and lack of influence, he is not overly keen to press our suit.”
Feeling a sudden surge of anger toward anyone who would want to cheat these intrepid young people, Prestwick thrust the spade into the damp earth with a touch of added force. “So you have been forced to abandon your claim?”
“Ha! Not a snowball’s chance in hell of that!” Nonny gave a wry grin. “Zara isn’t about to give in without a fight. That is why we are making this trip, so that we may confront the lot of them in person.”
Doing his best to repress a rueful crook of his lips, he gave silent thanks to Zeus and the pantheon of lesser gods that he was not going to be the one standing in the way when the Admiral of the Amazons sailed through the door! The twitch of humor was gone in an instant, for despite his own opinion on hot-tempered, headstrong females, he could not help but admire her courage under fire.
“A gentleman of my position is not without some influence in Society,” he said after a slight pause. “Perhaps when I return to Town, I can have one of my legal experts look into the matter.”
Nonny’s boot nudged at the clump of peat he had just cut out. “I am not sure if Zara would allow it. She says a favor always requires some sort of payback. And most of the time, it is not worth the asking price.”
“For a lady of tender years, it appears your sister has an awfully cynical view of mankind.”
