to answer; he merely posed
the rhetorical question so Harper would see how
insubordinate he was. If he was lucky, Marcus would
accept his apology and they would say no more about it.
To his shock, Harper said, “If I may presume on our
past friendship, my lord…”
“You may not,” Marcus warned.
“Well, I’m going to,” Harper said, to Marcus’s
outrage. “I’ve made myself miserable as sin—”
“I noticed,” Marcus said.
“And I’m blowed if I’m going to let you do the same,
when it’s obvious what your problem is.”
“Oh, is it?” Marcus said, with an attempt at sounding
dangerous. As he heard it, he came across as merely
peevish. He hated peevish people.
“You have misjudged matters, my lord.” Harper
firmed his jaw. “Quite badly.”
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“You insolent…”
“It seems to me, my lord, that if someone loves
someone, then the differences between them should not
be insurmountable,” Harper hurried on. “A man must
decide what matters, and there’s every chance it’s not
his pride or his consequence, or his sense of how things
have always been. There’s every chance his happiness
doesn’t lie in those things. And a man who ignores the
true source of his happiness is—” he hesitated “—a
blockhead.”
A valet had just called the Earl of Spenford a
blockhead.
Marcus was fairly sure this had never occurred in the
past five centuries of Spenford history. There was only
one thing to do.
“You’re dismissed,” he said. “Immediately. Be out of
the house within the hour.” It sounded harsh…but that
was by Constance’s standards, which were all wrong.
Still, he added, “If you pack your bags fast enough, I’ll
permit you to look at the positions advertised in this
morning’s newspaper.”
More than generous of him, no matter what
Constance might say.
Harper bowed his head. He knew, of course, he had
done wrong. Marcus stifled a twinge of sympathy.
Presume on their friendship, indeed!
“I’ll give you a reference,” he said gruffly. It was
more than the man deserved. But Constance would
want— Constance is gone.
Harper lifted his head. “My lord, I won’t read the
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newspaper.”
“That’s your choice,” Marcus said. “It makes no
difference to me.”
Harper took a deep breath—he appeared to have
trouble formulating his words. “My lord, I couldn’t read
the newspaper if I tried.”
Marcus made an impatient gesture. “What are you
saying, man?”
“I can’t read, my lord. Nor write. Not more than a
few words.”
“Can’t read?” Marcus stared. “How can that be?”
“The earl—the old earl—didn’t believe servant
children needed an education,” Harper said. “Nor the
earl before him.”
“My grandfather built the village school,” Marcus
contradicted him.
“A school that’s too small to allow more than two or
three years of schooling for the number of children in
the village,” Tom said. “For them that don’t learn fast,
it’s pretty soon too late.”
“Two or three years? Surely that’s not all?” When
Harper opened his mouth to protest, Marcus waved a
hand. “I mean, I believe you, of course, but it surprises
me.” He paced to the mirror, and without really looking
saw how his own face held traces of his father’s. He
turned away. “You’re telling me many servants on my
estates haven’t learned to read and write?”
“Not unless their parents had the money and the
inclination to buy them an education. A few, like
Miriam, buy their own tuition,” Harper said proudly.
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Marcus’s father had believed firmly that each man
should know his place and live up to it. Or, it seemed,
down to it.
Marcus felt the same. Except…to deem servants
unworthy of much learning seemed too proud.
Unworthy of a man of justice and honor.
He paused. Had he just judged his own father as too
proud?
Yes. Too proud when measured against the standard
of a God who opposed the proud but gave grace to the
humble.
“I…regret my father’s view,” he told Harper. “It is
not my view.”
“It’s not all the late earl’s fault. I didn’t learn well in
school, then my father taught me a little, but I didn’t
pick it up,” Harper said, embarrassed.
“Your father is a gamekeeper, as I recall,” Marcus
said drily. “Not a schoolmaster.”
Harper half smiled. “I could have learned when I was
older. But I suppose by then I was too set in my ways.
Too proud to admit I couldn’t read.”
Proud. Would Marcus never hear the end of that
word?
“How have you managed?” he asked. “I know I have
dictated lists to you over the years. And passed you
notes with details of social engagements.”
His valet explained how he’d trained his memory,
developed little tricks that fooled everyone. Marcus
couldn’t imagine the fear of discovery Harper must
have lived with.
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“This will change immediately,” he vowed. “I’ll
expand the school, hire another teacher, two more if
need be.” His mind raced ahead. It would be a major
undertaking. But Constance would know exactly what
was needed.
Oh.
Ironic that just as he chose a course of action that
would thrill her