Page 54 of The Last Kiss

She squeezed his arm. “Tell me all about it later.” Her gaze flicked up to the open door before she got back into the motor.

Behind him, Ash heard Harry lifting their bags from the back seat and setting them on the ground. He turned around, surprised to see Harry’s wary gaze directed toward Olive rather than the gaping front door. “Thank you, West,” he said, to get his attention.

Harry’s gaze shot to him, then past him toward the house. “Very good, sir.” He stepped back with a tense nod that Ash felt in the pit of his stomach.

Then Culham said, “I’ll take your luggage, Mr Ashleigh” and moved around him to pick up his bag.

As Culham trotted up the stairs, Ash had no choice but to follow. Keeping his father waiting would only stoke his anger. He glanced once over his shoulder, catching Harry’s eye briefly. Harry gave another unhappy nod then turned to walk away and Ash returned his attention to climbing the steps into the house. They were more manageable with his lighter leg. Too bad his heart was heavy with trepidation as he made his way along the poorly lit hallway to his father’s study.

He knocked and at his father’s curt “Come” entered the lion’s den.

It looked no different to last time he’d been there, although his father, bristling behind his desk, drew whatever lingering warmth the room might have possessed and turned it to ice. Before him sat a letter.

“I take it you’ve heard from Mr Pollock,” Ash said, pre-empting the start of the conversation.

Sir Arthur lifted his whiskered chin. “And what have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing.” He watched his father’s face darken. “Nothing, other than that I c-can’t spend the rest of my life w-w-working in a bank, Father. I… I need more.”

“Morewhat? Do you know how hard I worked to get Pollock to keep your position open after” — he waved his hand — “you came back? I gave him mywordyou’d be up for the challenge, and by God you will be!”

Ash held his ground. “I appreciate your efforts, sir, but it’s not the life I want for myself.”

“Good heavens!” his father spluttered. “What self-indulgent nonsense is this, boy? Whoever said anything about what youwant? An Englishman does his duty, not his pleasure. No, don’t look at me like that — you have a duty here. To your father and to your family.”

“Are you — ?” Ash’s whole body stiffened in outrage. “Are you lecturingmeon d-d-duty, sir?”

Sir Arthur at least had the grace to flush, the tops of his cheeks reddening over his whiskers. “I gave Pollock myword, my word as a gentleman, and you’ve made a liar of me, Ashleigh.”

“I n-n-never asked you to speak to Pollock on m-my behalf.”

“You didn’t need to,” Sir Arthur bristled. “I’m your father. It’smyduty.” His voice softened. “You must earn a living in a respectable profession, Ashleigh. You’ll need to provide for your wife and family, and there’s no more respectable an institution than the London Joint City and Midland Bank.”

“But I d-don’t want a wife and family!” he blurted before he could think better of it. “I don’t w-want any of the-the-the things you think are important.”

His father’s flush darkened. “I won’t hear such nonsense. You’ll do as you’re damn well told.”

“N-no. You have to l-listen to me. I c-c-can’t — ”

“I know what this is.” Sir Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he leaned across the desk. “It’s that man, West, you’ve been spending so much time with.”

Cold, slick terror seized him. “W-what?”

“Fraternizing with the lower classes, Ashleigh. Gettingideas. I warned you about it.”

“Ideas…” He barely squeaked the word past the fist closing around his throat. “Wh-what ideas?”

Sir Arthur’s whiskers fluttered as he huffed. “Bolshie ideas. Radical notions.”

Ash sucked in a breath, a prickle of sweat cooling on his skin.Radical notions?His father didn’t know. Thank God. Ash swallowed, trying to work moisture back into his throat. “It’s not W-West, sir.” His voice sounded thready. “If anything has g-given me ideas it w-was the w-w-war.”

“The war’s over. Put it behind you. Time to get back to your real responsibilities.” Sir Arthur smoothed his hand across the desk. “I shall write to Pollock and apologise for your erratic behaviour.” An expression of distaste crossed his face. “He’s aware you’ve suffered with…nervous exhaustion. I’ll tell him — ”

“No.” Ash forced the word out, feeling his face heat. “Sir, Iw-w-won’tgo back there. I’m sorry. I c-can’t.”

Sir Arthur looked up, his jaw set. “Then what will you do? Sponge off the estate for your whole life? Impoverish your brother? Steal the inheritance from his children?”

Ash stumbled back a step, horrified by the suggestion. “No, of c-course not. I’ll find another profession. Just n-not in London. And n-not in an office.”

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