Page 41 of Lord of Fortune
“It’s hardly fair that gentlemen can simply swap out a waistcoat and change their costume. We have to pack far too many things,” she said.
“Egg arrived while we were out. He insists on packing this ‘fancy’ waistcoat in case I meet the Prince or someone else of import. Believe it or not, this was stuffed in one of our saddlebags when you met us.”
Amelia laughed. “Egg is quite useful.”
“He’s also a damn blighter on occasion.” Penn smiled as he held out her chair.
Two footmen attended them, pouring wine and serving the first course. Amelia picked up the thread of their earlier conversation. “Where are we going tomorrow, Wales? You didn’t say precisely.”
He paused in eating. “Not Wales. Not yet, anyway. I need to go to Oxford first, and you could meet Burgess. “
Amelia was warmed by his thoughtfulness. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Beyond finding out anything he can tell us about my grandfather’s search for the heart and the dagger, I’ll just be glad to talk to someone else who knew him.”
Penn smiled softly before sipping his wine.
Amelia focused on her meal for a moment, her mind formulating the things she wanted to talk to Burgess about. Did he know about the Order? Did he know why her grandfather hid the dagger instead of just giving it to the Ashmolean as he did with the heart?
“You were quite close to your grandfather,” Penn said as the footman replaced the first course with the second. “What about your parents?”
“My mother died when I was young and my grandmother six years later. I was quite close to my father and grandfather. When my father passed a few years ago, I went to live with my grandfather. He was starting to decline, so he needed my help.” That was a close enough approximation of the truth. Her grandfatherhadbeen starting to decline. That she’d needed a place to live wasn’t something Penn had to know.
“There’s no mention of your husband in there,” he said quietly but inquisitively.
“You didn’t ask about him.” And she certainly wasn’t going to offer any information about Thaddeus Forrest.
He picked up his wineglass and peered at her over the rim. “I’m asking. If it’s not too forward of me.”
“There isn’t much to tell. We married, we had no children, he’s gone.” She bent her head toward her plate and took a too large bite of fish.
“I’m sorry for all your losses. You seem to be faring well in spite of them.”
Yes, well, she was nothing if not a strong and self-reliant person. At least that was what she tried to be. She’d been so upset—first despondent about her future and then angry—when Thaddeus had left. He’d run up so much debt that he’d had no choice but to flee their creditors. One had tried to collect from Amelia, and she’d had to give them the contents of their house. Destitute, she’d gone back to her grandfather, who’d been more than happy to welcome her. And join her in damning Thaddeus. That had been five years ago.
“What about your family?” she asked, eager to divert the conversation away from herself. “You’ve spoken quite warmly of your parents and your sister. And it sounds as if you all share a passion for antiquities and hunting for them.”
“We do. As you know, my father is a scholar. My mother met him when she brought him a rare book to evaluate. It turned out to be the key to finding a remarkable treasure—not in the sense of a sword or a heart, but in words. It was a manuscript, which, of course, meant more to my father than any artifact. None of it meant as much as my mother, however.”
“It sounds like a grand love story. And they had two children to continue their legacy.”
“Actually, I’m not their son, not by blood. I came to live with my father when I was eight.”
Amelia stared at him a moment. “I’m surprised to hear that.”
“Why, because I’m so fond of them? They’re the only parents I’ve ever known. I remember my mother—the woman who birthed me—but not my father. I’ve no idea who he was, actually.”
He said all this quite matter-of-factly, which was also surprising. She imagined it wasn’t easy not to know who your real father was. And yet, it sounded as though he had a father he admired and loved. Did anything else matter?
The footman removed Amelia’s plate and promptly brought the next course.
“How did you come to live with the Bowens?” she asked.
“My mother was dying. She knew Rhys Bowen to be a good and trustworthy man, and she asked him if he’d foster me. She had saved money to send me to school, but my father—Rhys—made sure I went to Eton and Oxford.”
“So he took you in and adopted you as his own?” Amelia’s heart warmed as she thought of the young orphan in need of love and family and finding both to a degree that so many people never did.
“He did.” Penn took a bite of pheasant and washed it down with a swallow of wine. “And there’s no wife in my history, in case you were wondering.”
She stifled a smile. “I wasn’t, but thank you for telling me.”
