A Matter of Principle by Kris Tualla Page B

Road; Cheltenham, Missouri!” She turned to Nicolas. “Did you have cards made for me?”
    “ I did. Do you like them?”
    Sydney blinked, tears clumping her lashes. “Yes.”
    “ Good. Because there are one hundred of them!” Nicolas laughed. “Now open the bag.”
    Sydney untied a cord and pulled an odd looking contraption from it. It consisted of a wooden tube about a foot long and a flattened wooden cone. She looked at Nicolas, bemused. “I give up. What is it?”
    Nicolas grinned, obviously extremely pleased with himself. “I bought it in St. Louis, at a very forward-thinking apothecary. It’s a brand-new invention called a ‘stethoscope.’ You use it to listen inside a body.”
    “ How does it work?” Sydney handed it to Nicolas. He placed the end of the polished tube into the carved cone and rested the cone against his chest.
    “ Listen,” he instructed.
    Sydney placed her ear to the tube. Her eyes widened. “Is that your heart I hear?” She grinned widely. “Can I listen to babies inside their mothers?”
    “ So he says.”
    “ Can I hear, Pappa ?” Stefan abandoned his toys.
    “ Certainly!”
    Stefan placed his ear against the end of the tube. He jerked away, stared at his father, then listened again. “That’s what a heart sounds like?”
    Nicolas handed the device to Sydney, who listened in fascination to the inner rumblings of her own belly.
    Leif sat quietly in a corner. He had a small leather box on his lap; he lifted items out, then set them reverently back in place.
    “ Leif?” Nicolas called to him.
    His head jerked up. “Yes, Sir?”
    “ What have you there?”
    Leif smiled shyly, his hand running over his chin. “A razor, Sir. And other things.”
    “ Time to learn to shave.”
    “ Yes, Sir.” He blushed.
    “ Learn well, son.” Nicolas rasped a palm over his morning’s stubble. “And I shall make you my valet on my campaign.”
    Leif’s eyes rounded. “What?”
    “ What?” Stefan echoed, suddenly attentive. “Leif?”
    “ If he is amenable.” Nicolas spoke to his young cousin. “It means learning how to care for my clothing, making sure my personal needs are anticipated and met. Waiting up for me late at night, and waking early in the morning. It is a true job, Leif. It carries substantial responsibility.”
    “ Y-yes, Sir.” Leif looked stunned.
    “ Do you wish to take this on?”
    He nodded so hard, his cheeks wiggled. “Yes, Sir!”
    “ Why can’t I?” Stefan whined. “I want to go with you, Pappa !”
    Nicolas held out his arms and Stefan walked into them. He pulled his son onto his lap. “You have school, Stefan. You cannot miss it.”
    “ Leif has school,” the pouting boy pointed out. “It’s not fair.”
    “ Leif is almost fourteen. He has mastered his arithmetic, and needs to work on his English.”
    The boy crossed his arms and tucked his chin into his chest.
    “ Stefan. Look at me.”
    Stefan’s bright blue eyes peeked out from under lowered brows and wavy auburn hair. For a moment, Nicolas could not speak; the boy favored his dead mother so strongly.
    “ I love you, Stefan, and would relish your company greatly. But you are my son, not my servant. Do you understand the difference?”
    “ No.”
    Nicolas knew he did, and recognized the boy’s stubborn streak as his own. “Well, someday you will. Until then, you must trust me.”

 
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    January 1, 1822
    St. Louis
     
    Sydney showed Leif how to hang Nicolas’s clothes in the apartment so that they wouldn’t be wrinkled when he needed them. She helped him brush the waistcoats, skirted frock coats and greatcoat, removing any specs of lint, dried food or mud Nicolas might have inadvertently picked up.
    “ And most inns have someone who can press a shirt, or even launder it, should that be called for,” Sydney instructed. “Don’t wait, however, if you think it might need to be done. Time passes more quickly than you might realize!”
    “ And if you are in