was still a lot to do before her father returned. Mr. Shepard hadn’t said how long he’d be away, yet Nick expected him at any moment. “You’re the one who should take a break. You are on holiday. Why don’t you go outside and play a game of tennis. You haven’t played since I had my fall, have you?” His tone came out sharper than he’d intended, but he thought once again about Mr. Shepard and what he’d say if he came back and found his daughter holed up in this office.
She shrugged. “No. But I prefer being in here helping you. Besides, there is no one to play with.”
“What about Victor?” He’d seen the boy hang about the corridor the first few days, looking daggers at him at the sight of Alice sitting beside him.
Her eyes lit up in hilarity. “He finally packed his bags and had the pony cart hitched up to take him to the train station this morning.”
“Where is your young lady friend?”
“Lucy? Oh, she had to go home, too. Her family was going hiking in Scotland.” Her voice sounded wistful, and he realized once again how lonely this wealthy girl’s life was. The only mother figure she seemed to have was a middle-aged companion who preferred spending time with the housekeeper.
Nick stood. “Well, it’s time we both had a break. It’s almost lunchtime anyway.” Usually he’d had a tray brought to the office but he decided to do something differently today.
Miss Shepard stood immediately, a smile breaking out on her face. Nick steeled himself against that smile, reminding himself his life had no relation to hers. She clasped her hands in front of her. “What shall we do?”
He hadn’t got as far as thinking of that part. “What would you like to do?”
She tilted her head a fraction and thought a moment, a slim finger against her chin. Then she looked at him, a sparkle in her eyes. “Have you ever played chess?”
He smiled in relief. Finally, there was something he did know how to do. “Yes.”
If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. She turned to leave the room. “Well, come along then.”
She led him to a wide veranda with latticed railing in the back of the house. “It’s too nice a day to be inside.” She sat on the floor and brought out a polished wooden box and a folded game board from a shelf under the low table and began to set out the ivory pieces.
He remained standing, watching her array the carved chessmen in rows at either side of the checked board. “My mother taught me to play chess.”
“My governess taught me. She said it was a good game of strategy…and patience.” She smiled as she added the last.
“Were you in need of those qualities?”
She shrugged. “All I knew then was that if I learned how to play chess, perhaps I could play with Father. But he had little inclination for games that last so long.”
Before he could comment on that statement, she waved him to the low couch facing the board. “Have a seat, Mr. Tennent.” She gave him a sly smile under her tawny brows. “This should be an easy win for someone good at mathematics. I shall even let you be white, since you are the guest.”
He sat down across from her and soon they were immersed in the game and even forgot about lunch.
He found he enjoyed pitting his skill against hers. Just as with tennis, she didn’t make things easy for him, and he appreciated that. Whenever she captured one of his pieces, she’d give him a small smile of triumph.
They played in silence for quite some time, when Miss Shepard raised her eyes to him. “Mr. Tennent?” There was no amusement in them now. “What was your house like growing up?”
Surprised at her question, he answered flatly, “Small and dingy with the smell of boiled cabbage. It was always damp. And cold in the winter. My brothers and I would huddle together under a blanket.”
She leaned her chin on her fist. “Were you the youngest?”
He shook his head. “The second to youngest.”
To his bemusement, she continued questioning him about his family, and he found himself telling her about his brothers—from Jim, working in the mill, and Thomas the postal clerk, to young Alfie, with his dream of opening his own shop.
“So, you are the only bachelor among them?”
“Yes,” he said in a guarded tone.
She tilted her head a fraction, a gesture that never failed to enchant him. “Why haven’t you married? You are certainly old enough.”
He shrugged. “Up to now, I haven’t had either the desire or the opportunity, I suppose. And although I am certainly old enough, I’m not that old.”
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