Page 39 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Luke made a point of returning his attention to the estate books. ‘We need to get this task completed.’
‘You know very well what I mean.’ Paul ignored the books and fixed Luke with a penetrating look. ‘I don’t ordinarily interfere in your personal affairs, but someone needs to talk some sense into you. All this dithering is not fair to Flora, or to Ottilie Fleming.’
Luke let out an elongated sigh. ‘It’s not that straightforward.’
‘Ottilie has expectations that were engendered by your inviting her to stay, and you don’t seem to be in much of a hurry to do anything about them. No wonder the chit’s looking confused, and increasingly desperate, although she hides her reactions well. Flora doesn’t harbour such lofty ambitions, but a person only has to be in the same room as the two of you to sense the attraction.’
‘Not necessarily, I—’
Paul slammed the flat of his hand down on the top of the desk. ‘Stop deluding yourself! You know how you feel and so does Flora.’ Paul’s temper seemed to cool as quickly as it had erupted and he was his calm, suave self again. ‘Personally, I don’t understand what’s stopping you from following your heart.’
‘You know how things stood between the pater and me.’ Luke ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with trying to explain a situation he didn’t fully comprehend himself. ‘I gave him assurances…’
‘Unreasonable ones.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Luke snapped. ‘You were not close to your own father, nor did you have the same responsibilities waiting for you upon maturity as I have…’
Paul’s expression hardened. ‘This isn’t about me.’
Luke knew he had crossed a line. ‘I’m sorry, Paul. I know what you did for Archie cost you your father’s approval and any expectation of inheritance. It was crass of me to mention the matter.’
‘Which will not prevent me from saying my piece regarding your own father, whom you might not have known or understood as well as you thought you did.’
Luke’s body jerked forward. ‘What the devil do you mean by that?’ he asked, feeling his anger rising.
‘What I say.’ Paul remained unflustered and regarded Luke with a look of mild condemnation. Despite his increasing agitation, the rational side of Luke’s brain conceded that if anyone had earned the right to speak his mind then it was Paul, who had proved his loyalty countless times and understood Luke better than just about anyone alive. Luke did not want to discuss his marital ambitions, yet at the same time he urgently needed sound advice. He could depend upon Paul to tell him that he was behaving like an overprivileged, indecisive idiot.
‘All men have a public face, Luke. A face they show to their loved ones whose respect and loyalty they both crave and demand. But they also have very selfish sides that put their personal needs first. Perhaps you only saw the aspects of your father’s character that he wanted you to see. That wouldn’t be so very unusual. “Do as I say, not as I do” is a common enough dictum among the older generation.’ He grinned. ‘And one that I suppose I must embrace myself now that I am about to become a father.’
‘The pater wasn’t perfect. What man is?’ Luke replied. ‘But I respected him, and I learned from him—’
‘All fathers have a duty to shape their children’s futures. There is nothing exceptional about that. And playing devil’s advocate, one could argue that he had an absolute obligation to guide you, aware as he was of the myriad duties you would one day assume along with his title, in which he took immense pride. The title that is. I don’t suppose you did much to invoke paternal pride.’
Luke laughed. ‘Very likely not. No one can accuse us of not sowing our share of the requisite wild oats.’
‘Absolutely.’ Paul lowered a voice that had turned serious. ‘No one anticipated that you would be required to assume that title quite so precipitately. You didn’t have time to grow into it, with your father’s hand to guide you. I know it wasn’t easy and that you made mistakes. I’ve been right here, making those same mistakes along with you.’
‘Paul, I don’t think this subject—’
‘Youwillhear what I have to say!’ Paul let out a long breath, and although he didn’t raise his voice, Luke sensed that he was close to losing his temper. ‘I am not only one of your oldest and closest friends, but I’m also your sister’s husband. That makes us related, and me even more aware that the rest ofourfamily worry about you.’
‘They have no need to—’
‘Just hear me out, and if you find the truth offensive I shall make no apology.’
Paul was seldom anything other than even-tempered, and this rare display of his strong will assured him of Luke’s full attention. ‘Speak your mind,’ he said, leaning one elbow on his desk and the side of his face on his splayed hand. ‘God alone knows, I could use some sound advice.’
‘Your father had flaws, Luke, just like the rest of us. He died before you reached maturity and would have been in a better position to realise that he had feet of clay, just like the rest of us. I hear stories in and around the villages. Stories that would never be repeated in front of you.’
‘What sort of stories?’
‘About trouble in paradise. You have always held the view that your parents enjoyed a loving marriage. I remember you talking about it when we were up at Oxford.’
Luke shrugged. ‘To the best of my knowledge, they did.’
‘And yet I have heard too many stories about your father’s wandering ways to believe that he was satisfied with the oh-so-suitablewife he was persuaded to marry. In fact, there are strong rumours that he was heartbroken when he was persuaded away from his first choice.’ Paul hoisted a brow. ‘Sound familiar?’
Luke shrugged, trying hard not to show, even to Paul, that he was shocked rigid. ‘Gossip, nothing more.’ He flapped a hand in a casual gesture of dismissal. ‘Not like you to listen to it.’
