Page 56 of Lela's Choice

“We just agreed that at eighteen you can do what you like.”

“I thought you’d side with Nannu, and I didn’t want a fight.”

Yet here we are fighting.

“Are you pregnant?” Lela was already sure the answer was no.

“No.” Sophie was scornful. “I got that message loud and clear. Neither of us want a child at this stage.”

“Then why did you leave?” The question Lela hadn’t been able to answer.

“I’m not going to marry Peter, you know.” Sophie seemed prepared to answer every question except the one Lela asked.

“I don’t know anything, Sophie.”

“Aren’tyoushocked?” Sophie was finally sparing time for someone else’s thoughts.

“That you’re lovers? I knew that in Australia.”

“Peter said you knew, but I couldn’t see how you could when you’ve never had a boyfriend for more than a few weeks, much less a lover.” Oblivious to the casual cruelty of her words, Sophie’s stinging tone dismissed her aunt as irrelevant to any conversation about relationships, about Sophie’s life or future.

With the rational part of her brain, Lela recognised Sophie had made up a story to suit her version of events. Her niece’s truculence was 95 percent uncertainty. Rational thought eluded Lela. The anxiety of the last few days had a stronger hold than she’d realised. To her dismay, she couldn’t see past her own hurt, and it slowed her reaction time.

“I didn’t think you’dgetromantic love.” Sophie shrugged.

“Why now?” Lela buried her pain and focused on the question she needed an answer to.

“Nannu asked to see me after the dinner party. You know what’s he’s like. He summons you to his office, offers you refreshments—he even uses that word—‘Would you like some refreshments?’ He relies on the antique furniture and antique secretary serving you stale cake and cold tea to intimidate you.”

“Stale cake and cold tea don’t keep him on the Business Rich List,” Lela said in rebuke.

“He saves it for family.” Sophie flashed the impish grin, which had won her numerous battles as a child. “Anyway, he announced his decision.”

“What decision?” Lela swallowed her frustration.

“The dinner party was my introduction to my prospective husband, a man who offers a promising business partnership.” Sophie imitated her grandfather’s voice.

“He promised me he wouldn’t.”Oh, Papa. You created this mess.

“Youdidtalk about it.”

“Eight years ago!” Lela threw one hand in the air, when she wanted to stamp her foot and pace like a bull newly released into the ring. “When I refused to consider his ‘promising business partnership’ for myself.” Lela had never told Sophie, because it should never have impacted Sophie’s life. “I told him I wouldn’t tolerate an arranged marriage for myself or any future Vella woman.”

“He can’t have listened,” Sophie dismissed Lela’s intervention as old news. “I told him he and the idea were medieval. He steamrollered on. The clean-shaven, nerdy-looking fellow with granny glasses of all things—my perfect match.”

“He can’t have said that.” But Lela could picture Papa saying the words. “You thought I’d agreed? That’swhyyou didn’t tell me!”

Sophie had the grace to look embarrassed. “Peter said you’d never have agreed.”

“I might swap you for Peter. A sensible, level-headed young man.” Lela held on to her temper by sheer force of will.

“But you wouldn’t let me go away with him.”

“Waiting a bit longer for a dirty weekend with a young man you’ve only known a few months is a long way short of proposing marriage to the highest bidder,” Lela snapped. “Or can’t you see that?”

“You hosted Nannu’s dinner party. The coincidence confused me. I couldn’t take the risk,” Sophie excused herself.

“If you’d listened to Peter and spoken to me this entire fiasco could have been averted.”

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