Page 68 of A Sense of Turmoil
Flora laughed. ‘Someone has to think of the practicalities.’
‘My intentions are for once honourable. I want to show you how well I can get about now thanks to—’
‘To Merlin’s cooperation.’ Flora sighed. ‘Let me think about it, Archie. It’s not that I don’t want to come, or that I care overmuch what people say about me. It’s just that…well—' She spread her hands, trying to think of a diplomatic way to make him understand that she was still smarting from Luke’s rejection and therefore doubly determined to stand on her own two feet as a consequence.
'You want to establish your independence before you are seen to depend upon anyone else.'
'Yes, precisely that.' She blinked at him. 'How did you know?'
'I understand you better than you think. I am rushing you and that was not my intention.’ He put his napkin aside and hauled himself slowly to his feet. ‘Thank you for an excellent dinner, but I shall take myself off now and leave you to continue establishing yourself here. I will allow you time to consider my invitation and reissue it in a few weeks.’ He took her hand and squeezed her fingers. ‘But if in the meantime you have any problems or need my advice, or if anyone tries to make trouble for you, you only have to send word and I will make things right for you.’ His smile was both entreating and just a little wicked. ‘There is no point having a marquess for a friend if you don’t make use of his authority every once in a while.’
‘I will bear that in mind.’
Flora swallowed down her emotions, aware from the fierce intensity of his gaze that he meant every word. She felt safe, cherished and protected in ways that she hadn’t previously realised were possible, and struggled to find the words to thank him. Without giving her time to do so, he turned over the hand that he still held, gently kissed the inside of her wrist and released it again.
She felt a little breathless as she followed him into the hall. Polly was despatched and ordered to have Pawson bring Archie’s carriage around. It arrived quickly and Flora stood in the doorway, watching him clamber slowly into it. He lowered the window once he was inside and raised his hand to wish her farewell. She returned the gesture, watched until his conveyance disappeared from view and then returned to the house, closing and bolting the front door behind her.
Alone with just Zeus for company in the drawing room, she was surprised to discover it was still early. She stroked the cat’s back, thinking about Archie’s invitation.
‘What do you think, Zeus? You like him. What’s your opinion? Shall we scandalise society by taking luncheon alone with him?’
Zeus stood up, stretched, sent her a piercing look through his green eyes and stalked off through the open door.
‘Well, that was very helpful,’ she told the departing feline, wondering what to do with the rest of her evening. The room seemed quiet and empty without Archie filling it with his elegant and easy manner. She smiled to herself, thinking she was probably the only female on the planet who would hesitate to accept an invitation from such an advantaged individual, which was most likely why Archie had issued it. He must get lonely, and had indeed welcomed her practical suggestions when it came to his mobility.
He understood her a little too well for her liking, which was most disobliging of him. Women were supposed to maintain an air of mystery. She chuckled, glad that there were things about her that he would never fully understand and would doubtless scorn, as Luke had done before him. She had learned her lesson with Luke, who had laughed at her psychic abilities, and didn’t believe that she actually possessed them. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again and would not raise the subject with Archie.
Sighing, she picked up her book, a book that she had been enjoying before Archie’s arrival, but she already knew that her mind would now be too preoccupied for her to absorb a single word.
*
Luke glowered at George, thinking he must have taken complete leave of his senses to make such a wild, unsubstantiated claim and imagine for a single moment that he would believe it. It smacked of desperation and Luke was having none of it.
‘What in the name of God are you talking about?’ he demanded, keeping his voice low and calm despite the fury radiating through him. ‘If that is your pathetic way of accounting for your father’s thievery—a situation which you continued to exploit—then you will have to do a great deal better than that.’
‘If I wanted to invent an excuse then I would have found something a great deal more credible,’ George replied. ‘I have had enough time to think about it. The pater told me that if our exploits ever came to light then I was to tell you precisely why he had thought it necessary in the first place.’
‘My father was a fine and upstanding gentleman. Far from perfect, I’ll be the first to admit, but then who amongst us can make that claim? Despite his faults, I cannot persuade myself that he entered into an extramarital affair with the wife of a friend. It would be the height of bad form and the pater was a stickler for manners.’
‘I notice that you do not dismiss the possibility of his having had affairs.’
Luke hesitated. ‘My parents understood the rules our class live by, and that is all I am prepared to say on the subject of their personal dealings. Since I have no first-hand proof one way or the other, I cannot dismiss the possibility of the pater having looked elsewhere, but I hope he would have restricted himself to the demi-monde. How can you possibly be so sure that he settled his interest upon your mother?’
‘She made the admission on her deathbed.’
Luke frowned, thinking it a rather lame explanation. It was little more than a means of justifying the unjustifiable, since a dead woman could not be applied to for confirmation. Nor could George’s father, who was also six feet under.
‘I can see what you are thinking. You wonder how I can possibly be so sure.’
‘I am willing to listen to what you have to say.’
‘Mother didn’t want to die with the affair on her conscience.’ George looked away. ‘It might have been better for all concerned if she had. Clearing her own conscience transferred the burden to the pater and left him feeling tormented. He adored our mother and catered to her every whim, or so he thought. He never for one moment suspected her of unfaithfulness, or of being dissatisfied with any aspect of their marriage.’ He rubbed his chin, looking angry and upset. ‘I think that is what concerned him the most once he got over the shock of her admission—that he had failed to keep her contented, I mean.’
Luke could tell from George’s dour expression that he believed what he had been told, even though he had not heard his mother’s confession first-hand. He turned to look at Ottilie. Her face remained chalk white, and the fact that she had laced her fingers together in her lap failed to disguise the fact that her hands were shaking. She lifted her chin and nodded in agreement with her brother.
‘After mother’s death, your father had the temerity to send his condolences and asked for particulars of the funeral so that he could attend. Needless to say, Father banned him from the ceremony and called to see him immediately afterwards to have it out with him. I think your father knew he’d been rumbled and admitted to the affair. He was not aware that the baby had been his, but he didn’t dismiss the possibility either.’
‘Excuse me, but you only have your father’s word for this.’
