Page 63 of Too Good to Be True

“He’s an asshole,” he muttered to my shoe.

He finished with it and let me go, which was a shame.

“I had lunch with your mum,” I told him.

He pushed his hands in his trouser pockets, which brought something else into stark relief: the utterly delectable dark-gray suit he was wearing, again with a vest and a beautiful shirt, this one snowy white, and no tie, collar open at his throat.

He gifted me with the attention of those beautiful blue eyes again. “I heard.”

“She told me about solar panels and windmills and kitchenettes.”

He appeared openly surprised at that, but replied, “I see.”

“And indicated your father was not at one with all your plans.”

He jutted out his strong, cleanshaven chin. “No. He wasn’t. He told me the house was fine as it is and shared we have plenty of money, so the fact we’d shave what would amount to at least ten thousand pounds a year off our heating and electrical bills installing the solar panels alone was unnecessary.”

I knew it was a bitch to heat this place.

“Short-sighted too,” I noted.

“Yes, I mentioned that and how the slowness of our great country in modernizing and thinking forward is rapidly shrinking our once vast empire. He didn’t take my point. He told me if I wanted the changes, I’d have to pay for them myself.”

Interesting.

“Did you?”

“Fuck no,” he replied. “It cost a fortune and it’s not for me, it’s for Duncroft. Duncroft should pay for it.”

I couldn’t argue.

“Dad flatly refused,” he continued. “I went over his head to the trustees. They’re in the business of being forward-thinking, so they approved the expenditures. But along with the living expenses as Mum, Dad and Danny like to live, it was noted those new outlays might well dip into the principal. This meant they advised us other cuts needed to be made.”

“I’m sure that didn’t go over very well.”

“No, considering two of the expenditures the trustees pointed out would be easy to let go without most who lived in and served Duncroft suffering were Dad’s apartments in London and York.”

This was confusing, specifically York, considering that city was very close to Duncroft. An easy day drive if you had business there.

“Does he need to go to those places very often?”

“He did if he wanted to fuck the mistresses he kept in them.”

Oh boy.

“Ian,” I said softly.

“Obviously, I explained to Dad that Mum should not be asked to cut costs when such other costs could be more easily, and discreetly, cut,” he spoke over me. “So Dad told his special friends he’d be unable to provide for them in the manner in which they’d become accustomed. They took their esteemed services elsewhere.”

Listening to his words, something occurred to me.

“Do you keep an eye on your father?”

He nodded. “Though, I don’t have an army of men in Inverness capes and deerstalkers following them around,” he joked, and I laughed.

When I was done, he went on.

“But I do keep a finger on the pulse, as non-invasively as possible. Dad. To a lesser extent, Daniel. It’s unnecessary with Mum.” His gaze suddenly grew sharp on my own. “I think we both know how other people’s peccadillos can be annoying to put up with. If I know in advance some shit Danny pulled is going to bite me in the ass, I can deal with it.”

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