Page 63 of A Winter By the Sea
“Come, Mr. Thomson, you are being rather mysterious.”
He said nothing more for a moment, then diverted the topic. “I met his parents on more than one occasion. They seemed like excellent people.”
“I always thought so. Although I imagine my mother is not keen on them calling here and discovering we are now humble boarding-house keepers.”
He looked at her in surprise, dark brows rising. “Miss Summers, you and your family have no reason to be ashamed. You have a beautiful home in a fashionable seaside resort.” He added with a wink, “And you were selected to host severalimportantmembers of the Duke of Kent’s household.”
Emily smiled at him. “You are very kind to say so. Thank you.”
At dinner that evening, Mamma was quiet. Apparently her talk with Charles that day had worn her out. In her stead, Emily kept the conversation going by talking about the weather and the latest news. Then she began asking their guests about their backgrounds and families.
“Where are you from, Mr. During?”
“London, born and bred.”
“I believe you mentioned having a mother and sisters?”
He looked up with wide, almost fearful eyes. “Why would you mention them?”
Startled, Emily faltered, “Oh, I ... no reason. Only making conversation.”
His face flushed. “Of course. Sorry. Yes, I have two younger sisters, and the kindest of mothers.”
“Is your father ... gone?”
“Hm? Oh no. He is there as well. At least, usually. We are not close. I did not mean to imply that he ... It is just that I am much closer to my mother and sisters and miss them a great deal.”
Mamma spoke up. “Very natural. Your feelings do you credit.”
“And was your father in royal service before you?” Mr.Hornbeam asked, likely thinking of his own son, who’d disappointed him by not following him into government service.
“My father? Heavens, no. He’s a former wine merchant who drank his own inventory.” Mr. During gave a bark of laughter, but it was an awkward sound. He gazed down at his glass, running a distracted finger over the rim.
No doubt noticing his colleague’s discomfort, Mr. Bernardi spoke up to fill the gap. “My father was a steward—not in a royal household, but in a noble one. He saved his wages to buy a small business, a grocery focusing on delicacies imported from the continent, primarily Italy and France. He and my mother were successful enough to send me to the Parisian College of Cooking.”
Mr. Hornbeam nodded his approval. “You were fortunate indeed.”
“I was.”
Sarah added, “And we have been fortunate to sample some of your culinary creations.”
“My pleasure.” The chef looked at his neighbor. “Your turn, Thomson.”
Mr. Thomson set down his fork and began, “There is not much to tell. I am a younger son. I read law at university in hopes of an eventual career as a civil or Crown servant. This position with the Duke of Kent was the first opportunity that presented itself. I was glad for a chance to do meaningful work, and to see something of the world.”
“Probably thought you’d spend your days meeting heads of state, negotiating treaties, and changing the world,” Mr. Bernardi teased.
Mr. Thomson modestly ducked his head. “I admit this position is not all I imagined, but it is a privilege to serve one of His Majesty’s sons.”
Emily asked, “You mentioned being a younger son. How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. We should have been the perfect trio: an heir, a second son for the military, and a third for the church. Is that not what tradition decrees?”
“There are many exceptions,” Mr. Hornbeam said mildly.
“My eldest brother is heir, of course.”
“Learning to manage the estate one day?” Mr. Hornbeam asked.
