Now that he was back, she wanted to ask so many things. Where had he been? What had he done there? And, most importantly, why had he left her? She had thought, as they had grown past the age of playmates, that they were likely to become something much more.
His current disposition, as he passed her hiding place and followed Jenks up the stairs, was a stark contrast to St Aldric, who always seemed to be smiling. Though the duke had many responsibilities, his face was not as careworn, or marked, as Sam’s. He greeted obstacles with optimism. But he had a right to do so. There seemed little that he could not accomplish.
In looks, she could see many similarities between the two men. Both were fair and blue eyed. But St Aldric was the taller of the two and the handsomer as well. In all things physical, he was the superior. He had more power, more money, rank and title.
And yet he was not Sam. She sighed. No amount of common sense would sway her heart from its choice. If she accepted the inevitable offer, she would be quite happy with St Aldric, but she would never love him.
But if the person one truly loved above all others was not interested, what was one to do?
Just now, he had gone straight to her father, without enquiring of Lady Evelyn’s location. Perhaps he did not care. In his silent absence, Samuel Hastings seemed to be saying that he did not remember her in the same way she did him. Perhaps he still thought of her as a childhood friend and not a young lady of marriageable age who might have formed an attachment to him.
Did he not remember the kiss? When it had happened, she had been sure of her feelings.
Apparently, he had not. After, he’d grown cold and distant. She could not believe that he was the sort of youth who would steal a kiss just to prove that he could. Had she done something to offend? Perhaps she had been too eager. Or not enthusiastic enough. But how could he have expected her to know what to do? It had been her first kiss.
It had changed everything between them. Overnight, his smile had disappeared. And, shortly thereafter, he had been gone in body as well as spirit.
Even if she had misunderstood, she would have thought that he might have written a note of farewell. Or he could have answered at least one of the letters she’d sent to him, dutifully, every week. Perhaps he had not received them. On one of his brief visits home from school, she had enquired of them. He had admitted, with a curt nod and a frozen smile, that he had read them. But he’d added nothing to indicate that the messages provided any comfort or pleasure.
It was a moot point now, of course. When one had captured the attention of a duke, who was not only powerful and rich, but handsome, polite and charming, one should not lament over a snub from a physician of no real birth.
She sighed again. All the same, it had been much on her mind of late. Even if he did not love her, Sam had been her friend. Her dearest, closest companion. She wanted his opinion of St Aldric: of the man, and of her decision. If there was any reason that he disapproved …
Of course, there could not be. He would bring no last-minute reprieve with an offer of his own. And she must remind herself that it was not exactly a march to the gallows, becoming Her Grace, the Duchess of St Aldric.
But if he did not want her, the least Dr Samuel Hastings could do was give his congratulations. And that might make it possible for her to move forwards.
‘A ship’s surgeon.’ Lord Thorne’s tone was flat with disapproval. ‘Is that not a job that can be done by a carpenter? Surely a university-trained physician could have done better.’ Sam Hastings faced his benefactor’s dark look with military posture and an emotionless stare. He could remember a time when his actions had met with nothing but approval from this man. In response, Sam had been eager to please and desperately afraid of disappointing him. But it seemed that his best efforts to abide by Thorne’s final instructions to ‘make something of yourself’ were to be met with argument and doubt.
So be it. His need to prove himself had cooled when Thorne’s affection had. ‘On the contrary, sir. On most ships, they are forced by a scarcity of skill to make do with any willing man. While they often employ the carpenter’s mate for the job, no one wants to be the man’s first patient. I am sure both captain and crew appreciated my help. I saved more limbs than I took. I gained experience with many diseases that I might never have seen had I remained ashore. There were some tropical fevers that were quite challenging. The time not spent in action was spent in study. There are many hours in the normal running of the ship that can be devoted to education.’
‘Hmmmpf.’ His guardian’s foul mood turned to resignation, when presented with reasonable opposition. ‘If you could find no other way to get sufficient experience, then I suppose it had to do.’
‘And it was quite far away,’ Sam added, subtly colouring the words. ‘When I left, you encouraged me to travel.’
‘That is true.’ Now Thorne was circumspect, which might be as close as Sam could get to approval. ‘And you have made no plans towards marriage? I encouraged you to that as well.’
‘Not as yet, sir. There was little opportunity, when so totally in the company of men. But I have ample prize money in the bank and a plan to set up practice.’
‘In London?’ Thorne said, brows furrowing.
‘In the north,’ Sam assured him. ‘I can certainly afford wife and family. I am sure there will be some woman not averse …’ He left the ending open, not wanting to lie outright. Let Thorne think what he liked. There would be no marriage, no children, no future of that sort at all.
‘Evelyn, of course, is on the cusp of a great match,’ Thorne said, as though relieved to change the subject. He smiled with obvious pride of his only daughter. For Sam’s sake, the words were delivered with an air of finality.
Sam nodded. ‘So I was given to understand by your letters. She is to marry a duke?’
Now, Thorne was beaming with satisfaction. ‘Despite his rank, St Aldric is the most magnanimous of gentlemen. He is so full of good humour and generosity that his friends have shortened the title to Saint.’
Evie had won herself a saint, had she? It was no less than she deserved. Sam had best keep as far away from her as possible. His own nature proved him to be as far from that lofty state as it was possible to be. ‘Evelyn is the most fortunate of young ladies to gain such a husband.’
‘It is a shame that you cannot stay to meet him. He is expected this afternoon.’ It was as blunt as shutting the door in his face. Being ‘like a member of the family’ was not the same as recognised kinship. Now that he was raised and settled in a trade, Thorne felt no responsibility to him at all.
‘A pity, indeed. But, of course, I cannot stay,’ Sam agreed. It was just as well. He had no real desire to meet this Saint who would marry his Evie, or remain under the Thorne roof a moment more than was necessary. ‘You will give my regards to Lady Evelyn, of course.’ He added her title carefully, to avoid any sign of familiarity.
‘Of course,’ her father said. ‘And now, I do not wish to keep you.’
‘Of course not.’ Sam managed a smile and rose, as though this brief visit had been his intent all along, and his departure had nothing to do with the abrupt dismissal. ‘I only wished to thank you, sir, and to remind you of the difference your patronage has meant to my life. A letter hardly seemed appropriate.’ Sam offered a stiff bow to the man who had claimed to be his benefactor.
Thorne got up from his desk and clapped him by the shoulder, smiling as he had of old. That such approval could only come by his leaving was another bitter reminder of how things had changed. ‘I am touched, my boy. And it is good to know that you are doing well. Will we see you, again, while you are in London? For the wedding, perhaps?’ When it was too late for him to do any harm.
‘I do not know. My plans are not yet set.’ If he could find a ship in need of his services,