Tempted

“Get in here. I need you.”

Evan moved reluctantly into the room, but Terry was nowhere in evidence. There was instead, lounging in one of the chairs, a surly young lad of no more than fifteen years, who bore a resemblance to Angel in one of her pouts.

“I want you to take him in charge. You made it through school. If he has a prayer in the world, it is you.”

“Me? Take him in charge? But who is he?”

“Helen’s son, Ralph. He is incorrigible. Well?”

“Sorry to be struck stupid, but I did not know of his existence until this moment.”

“And I did not know of yours until today,” Ralph said resentfully.

“So we are even then?”

“Not by a long shot. I suppose I won’t even get the barrens now,” Ralph countered.

“The barrens?” Evan asked.

“Don’t you remember anything?” his father demanded. “The moorlands. Not good for much except pasturing sheep, but they would yield a living if properly managed.”

Ralph looked up, a spark of malice in his eyes. “Is that where Terry is to be exiled now?”

“That is none of your affair, you young cur.”

“Do you like farming?” Evan asked blankly.

“No, I should sell it and go back to London.”

“Back to London?”

“He was sent down from school a month ago, but he copped the letter out of the post and has been philandering in London.”

“Pretty exciting this time of year, all littered with the ton?” Evan asked.

“And expensive.”

“He ran out of money and into debt,” Lord Mountjoy said, as though Ralph could not hear him.

“How many subjects did you fail?” Evan asked casually.

“All of them,” Ralph said proudly.

“A great temptation, the life at Oxford or Cambridge, as I recall. Better than half my class got sent down, for one

reason or another, by the middle of each term. Their fathers got them back in, of course, for as long as it seemed worthwhile.”

“It’s a total waste,” Ralph said.

“Not to the fathers, who have got rid of a troublesome lad for months at a time.”

Evan had not been aware of his father leaving the room, but when he bothered to look around, he noticed his absence.

“Were you sent there to get rid of you?” Ralph asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Toying with the maids, or was it the bottle?”

“I killed my elder brother.”

Ralph gasped. “You never!”

“Ask anyone. Tell me, of all these subjects you failed, does any of them have an appeal for you?”

“No.”

“You’re telling me you are interested in absolutely nothing?”

“I like poetry.”

“Poetry? That’s a tough one. Never could quite get it myself.”

“I only like it because it’s quick to read.”

“Quick to read, long to understand. Suppose we make a deal. You teach me poetry and I’ll tell you what I know about geometry.”

“What use is that to me?”

“Can’t fire a gun, even a little one, without geometry.”

“I’m a fair shot.”

“But could you fire a twelve pounder and have the vaguest notion where the ball would fall, what elevation to use to hit your target?”

“With practice.”

“Not good enough. You can’t be all day finding the enemy’s range or you would be blown to bits while you are about it. Take it from me, geometry can be useful for a variety of things. Of course, we shall have to tackle algebra first. You will need to know how to solve a formula. Tell you what. You pick out a book of poetry for me to study and I will hunt up my textbooks. They must be at Gram’s house. We’ll start after lunch tomorrow.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“Well, I think if you understand poetry, the least you can do is help me out. It isn’t easy courting your sister when I am only an ignorant soldier.”

“You and Angel?”

“No, Judith, but keep that quiet if you would. I’m not entirely sure she will have me.”

“She’d be a fool not to.”