Page 78 of The Winter Companion

Neville sat back in his chair as Justin closed the ledger. “I’m not bored. I’m…distracted.”

“It is rather distracting having so many people about. I’ve enjoyed it, of course, but I shall be glad when everyone returns to their own lives and leaves us to ours.”

Neville didn’t say anything. In truth, he didn’t know what to say.

Somehow, over the years, his life had become knotted up with Justin’s. It was a bond forged in the orphanage, born of shared misery. A tie of brotherhood and friendship. The same thing that bound Neville to Alex and Tom.

He’d long thought of them as his family. And they were that. Neville couldn’t imagine a world without them in it. But that bond hadn’t stopped the others from striking out on their own. From finding love and personal fulfillment.

In the past year Tom had married Jenny, the pair of them traveling the world together. Alex had wed Laura and would soon be leaving for France. And Justin and Lady Helena were expecting a child. All of them had forged separate lives.

All of them except Neville.

He supposed he existed as part of Justin’s family. An appendage from the past, kept close for reasons of affection, loyalty, and lingering guilt over Neville’s accident.

But Neville’s life was his own, surely. He deserved happiness as much as the rest of them. He deserved—

He started at the feel of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“You drifted off,” Justin said.

Neville glanced at the clock. He didn’t know how long he’d spent staring fixedly at the closed ledger, thinking about the orphanage, and his accident, and what it was he deserved. Minutes, probably. Perhaps longer.

“Is it happening more often?”

“No.” Neville stopped himself, realizing at once that that was a lie. “Only when…when I’m still for t-too long.”

“Sitting at the desk?”

“Sometimes.” And at dinner, or in the drawing room with everyone talking all around him. He couldn’t predict exactly when it would happen. All he knew was that it never happened when he was active. When he was engaged with the horses or some other physical activity.

“You get lost in your thoughts.”

“I lose time. I…I don’t realize until afterward.”

Justin frowned. “I’ve been thinking about that. About some of the difficulty you’ve had with the more mundane aspects of filling Boothroyd’s position.”

Neville didn’t respond. In his opinion, most of Boothroyd’s duties were mundane. Whereas some stewards spent the bulk of their time out on the estate, Boothroyd preferred to remain indoors. He’d structured all of his responsibilities to revolve around his desk.

“I wonder,” Justin said, “if it wouldn’t be more efficient to separate the paperwork, letter-writing, and ledgers from the work that must be done on the estate. Monitoring repairs, collecting rents, and so forth.”

“Who would…?”

“I’d have to hire someone. A secretary, perhaps.” Justin squeezed Neville’s shoulder before releasing it. “Don’t look so glum. Boothroyd’s had decades to learn his role. It’s not realistic to expect you to take over his post immediately.”

“Stewards are educated men.” Many of them had gone to university and knew how best to make an estate profitable. It was more than simply balancing accounts and collecting rents.

“You’ve had an education. First the orphanage school and then the convent. More importantly, you have common sense. You may not be as well read as Tom, or as well traveled as Alex, but you have impeccable judgment. I value it immensely.”

“My judgment is…” Neville pushed his fingers through his hair until it stood half on it. “It’s n-not as good as you think it is.”

Had it been good judgment to take Clara to his rooms above the stable? To kiss her so passionately? He’d known all the while that nothing could come of it. That there was no prospect for a future with her.

And why not?

The three words echoed in his brain—a desperate, angry question.

But he knew the answer. It was as much because of her as it was because of him. She was beautiful and intelligent, with dreams that far exceeded the rigid bounds of his circumscribed existence.