“Zhao was his surname?”
“Yes. The Chinese write their names differently from us.”
“How did he come to be the school’s cook?”
“I don’t know. He would never say. I suspect that he was an exile of some sort but he taught those of us whom he deemed worthy how to survive in that school.”
“And you learned more than about cooking.”
“Yes, indeed I did. I suppose he is still there, cooking and teaching the ‘worthy ones’ to survive.”
“That is an amazing tale,” Evelyn said softly. “But why... “
“I like living,” Mayson said wryly. “I was still too young to take control of the estate when I came home from the war, since my father had set the age of inheritance at thirty. I believe he had intended to still be alive when I had my thirtieth birthday.”
“Can you prove who you are?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“How old are you now?”
“Three-and-thirty.”
“Why not go claim your inheritance? Why let your uncle, who clearly is not doing a good job of managing the estate, run through everything?”
“First of all, he cannot run through everything. Unless he can prove that I am dead or two more years pass without my appearance, he cannot assume the title or touch the principle.”
“That is an odd way of setting things up,” Evelyn said. “If shopkeepers set the inheritance of their shops in such a way, soon there would be no cobblers or weavers.”
“I think my father had some inkling of the kind of person his younger brother had become. Or perhaps he was setting it up in that way so that he could keep control of everything longer.”
“But you would not inherit until after his death, would you?”
“That is right. But he knew he was ill. He spent many hours mewed up with his solicitor shortly before his death.”
“Mayson,” Evelyn said, now holding his hand in both of hers, so that their hands were clumped together, as if they were one fist.
“Yes, Evelyn?”
She felt a sick, churning lurch in her stomach, for she knew the consequence of her next words. An earl could never wed a shopkeeper’s daughter. Even so, she said what she believed to be true. “You should claim your inheritance. It is the talk of the entire countryside how your uncle is treating the people at Hillsworth. It is not fair to them to leave things as they are.”
“You might be right,” Mayson replied soberly. “But I do not think it will be easy.”
“Doing the right thing hardly ever is,” Evelyn said.
Mayson nodded soberly. “I know,” he said.
“Evelyn?”
“Yes, Mayson?”
“I would still like to ask you to marry me, and I will, come summer’s end, no matter what else happens.”
Evelyn gently disengaged her hands. “You say that now, Mayson, and I believe that you mean it to be true. But you might find that things are vastly different once you take up your title.”
Mayson looked into her eyes soberly. “Evelyn, do you think you could love me?”
“It is a little too soon to say for sure, Mayson, but perhaps I could. But your duty must come first.”