“Are you an expert on the subject?” Calvin’s brows rose. “Tell me, what makes a home?”
Jonathan feigned deep interest in his chocolate rather than respond.
Very well, he wasn’t feigning. This was excellent chocolate.
“Home isn’t necessarily a building,” Calvin said, as though Jonathan were at all interested in conversing with him. “It can be a person. Home isn’t what holds you back. It’s the thing you hate to leave.”
“I like to travel.” Perhaps like wasn’t the right word. He was compelled to travel. It was a race, from the past to the future. “The world is big. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Maybe all you’re missing,” Calvin said, “is slowing down.”
Jonathan did his best to incinerate him with the force of his glare.
It might have worked better if he wasn’t peeking out over a mug of hot chocolate.
Calvin was unperturbed. He narrowed his eyes in consideration. “I would think being constantly on the move means you can never get close to anyone.”
“I wish you were far away,” Jonathan muttered.
“You can never enjoy your achievements because you’re always on the hunt for the next one,” Calvin continued. “You never rest, or take a moment for introspection.”
“I hate being alone with my thoughts,” Jonathan said. “That’s why I tell people to ask me anything. I’d rather think about their thoughts than mine.”
“I love being alone,” Calvin said.
Jonathan tilted his head. That was a strange argument.
“But I’ll like having a wife even better,” Calvin finished. He was recently betrothed.
“Humph.” Jonathan snorted. He wasn’t jealous.
He was very jealous.
If only the things he wanted weren’t mutually exclusive! He adored exploring new places and having adventures. But he did yearn for somewhere to call his home. Someone to miss him when he was gone. Someone to come home to.
No... not “someone” in general.
Angelica in specific.
He longed for her more than he’d ever longed for anything. With her, everything was better. He hadn’t minded being cooped up in a tiny jeweler’s shop. He’d looked forward to it. Rushed over at first light. Schemed how best to stay all day.
Just to have one more moment with her.
“I’ve seen how you spend money,” Calvin said hesitantly. “If you’re now in a tight spot, just let me know and I’ll—”
“Good God, no,” Jonathan interrupted.
When he had told Angelica his history, he hadn’t thought of it in the context of other people’s experiences, including her own. Jonathan was the son of a laird, boo-hoo. Jonathan’s father forced a very large amount of money upon him, boo-hoo.
Nobody could guess the circumstances of his birth by looking at him. Being the bastard of a laird made Jonathan rich, not poor. He was accepted into more places, not fewer. He was actively choosing not to utilize his many advantages.
How had she managed not to box his ears?
If he hated the money so much, he could give it all to charity. Or to abolitionists. Or to orphanages. Was it really such a cross to bear?
As female and Black, Angelica had dealt with far worse disadvantages, and she wasn’t spending her Christmas sobbing into a mug of hot chocolate. She was a clever, talented, joyful success, with a delightful, loving, joyful family. She had not one home, but two.
And he had asked her to give both up in favor of peddling waistcoats and fancy breeches.
All because of his father.
Jonathan had let his entire world be upset by one person discounting him. He glowered at his chocolate. Although he gave the trust money away, his actions bought the appreciation and approval his father had never given him.
The time had come to move on. The only person who should hold the reins of his life was himself.
“I’ve never found a place I felt I belonged to,” he admitted.
Calvin looked at him in disbelief. “Nowhere you’ve traveled through might possibly do? Have you considered that it might be up to you to make a place your home, rather than expect the place to do it for you?”
Jonathan did not dignify this excellent rejoinder with a reply.
The truth was, he’d been searching for belonging. From the moment of his conception, all the places he’d seen and all the people he’d met had let him leave without complaint. He wanted someone to stop him.
It had never happened.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Calvin said. “Turn it around.”
Jonathan scowled at him. What an absolutely insufferable prig.
Who might be right.
Maybe Angelica didn’t want to have to ask Jonathan to stay. Maybe she wanted him to want to.
To choose her.
Instead, Jonathan’s grand plan had been... to leave her behind. To expect coin to be enough, just like his father had done to Jonathan and his mother.
“Ah,” said Calvin. “You’re wearing an I’ve-been-an-idiot expression. A common affliction among those who are the root of their own problems.”
“I’ve walked away from the only place that felt like home,” Jonathan admitted. “The only person that felt like home.”
“‘Idiot’ may not be strong enough of a word.” Calvin’s expression was sympathetic. “I know what that feels like.”
Jonathan took a shaky breath. “The idea of needing one particular, irreplaceable person is terrifying.”
“And when people are frightened,” Calvin said, “they run away.”
Scots don’t run, Jonathan had told Angelica. And then did the opposite.
“I love her,” he said. “I love her so much I can’t tell if I’m coming or going.”
“You should decide,” Calvin suggested. “I feel that’s the crux of the matter.”
Jonathan cleared his throat. “What if I don’t spend every moment of the next year hawking our catalogues from door to door?”
“I hope you realize,” said Calvin, “I will not be spending every moment of even the next month sewing on buttons or devising new ways to fold neckcloths. We’re all allowed time to ourselves. You just have to decide what you want to do with yours.”
There was naught to figure out. Jonathan already knew the answer.
He wanted Angelica.
She had heard every thought he’d ever had on why he was a rolling stone whom no one place could tempt to stay. He’d been wrong. The question was
