A Sibling's Interference

Chapter Nine

Despite my best efforts, I struggled to fall asleep. The knowledge that an intruder had been prowling through the gardens and had even managed to enter my home made it impossible for me to fully relax. While I knew it was unlikely that the person would try again, I couldn't shake off my uneasiness.

And any time I wasn't able to sleep, I was cranky in the morning.

My sister's cheerfulness intensified the throbbing in my head, and I wished I had skipped breakfast altogether. Philippa prattled on and on, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't really listening. If I had been paying attention, I might have noted that she seemed to be in a remarkably good mood.

Would Mr. Walton report any new holes on the grounds? Or would we have a brief respite so I could think of what to do?

Philippa's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "Why are you in such ill humor today?"

"Why are you in such good humor?" I countered. "I expected you to be furious with me."

She waved a hand. "Why? It wasn't the worst thing you've ever made me do. Remember when I was five years old and you convinced me that I needed to befriend my pony? You made me muck the stall myself! Miss Totter was horrified when she found me."

I couldn't resist a smile at the memory. How easy it had been to persuade her when she was that age! "I remember how much trouble I was in when Mama and Father found out about it."

"Which is only right," Philippa said primly. "I was an absolute mess because of you! It took a week for me to not smell like manure!"

"What fun it was to be a child," I remarked, reaching for my cup of coffee. "And how eager I was to grow up!"

"I don't recall it being all that interesting or fun when I was a child," my sister responded, wrinkling her nose. "There was always someone telling me what to do or how to behave. It was a relief to put all that behind me."

"I'm sorry to tell you that reaching the age of eighteen does not instantly mean everyone will stop telling you what to do. On the contrary, society will put more pressure on you to act appropriately, and the consequences will be more severe because you will not have the excuse of being a child."

Groaning, Philippa pushed her chair back. "I really don't want to hear a lecture right now, Lucas. And I'm sure you're exaggerating the matter."

"Excuse me, sir," Molly spoke up, her voice shaking. "There is a gentleman at the door."

Again? Astonished, I swung my gaze to the maid. "Who is it this time?" I asked.

"A-A Mr. John Ward," she stammered, the color increasing in her cheeks. "He's asking to see you."

Ward! Well, at least this visitor was a friend! "Pardon me, Philly," I said, getting to my feet. "I need to speak to my friend. I hope you enjoy the rest of your breakfast."

"You could just have him brought in here," Philippa said to my back as I hurried out. "Lucas! Why are you ignoring me? Lucas!"

However, I needed to have a private conversation with my friend, which would be difficult with my sister present.

In the hall, John Ward stood in front of the lone, drab painting on the wall. He turned at my approach. "You should consider hanging something more cheerful here," he commented. "It puts people off seeing something so ugly first thing. It makes a poor first impression."

I couldn't have cared less about the painting. Had I ever bothered to really look at it? "This is a surprise," I said, extending my hand as I approached. "I thought you were in Brighton seeking your fortune."