A Man Most Worthy

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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