Page 52 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘That’s decided then.’ He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. ‘Of course, we cannot do anything about it until after…’ He pointed at the ceiling. ‘Perhaps I should have waited. I shall be in mourning for six months and cannot marry during that period.’
‘Absolutely not.’ She turned her head away and caught a sneeze in her handkerchief. ‘George and I will retire to Denby Lodge as soon as it is available to us, but I hope you will rely on me to help you through this difficult time.’
‘Indeed, I shall depend upon you. But now, if you will excuse me, I have neglected my work for too long.’
Luke left the room but turned in the open doorway, catching Ottilie with a smug look of satisfaction gracing her elfin features. It did not suit her and Luke wondered with a sinking heart what precisely he had committed himself to so rashly. Despite being in Ottilie’s presence almost non-stop since his arrival in Boston several months previously, he had never been completely alone with her, nor had they conducted a conversation about anything more taxing than the weather. He had no idea what her interests were, or if she even had any, but it was too late to worry about their compatibility now. What was done was done and he would just have to make the best of things.
‘Damn you, Flora,’ he muttered beneath his breath. ‘You forced my hand and have a great deal to answer for.’
Only as he returned to his library did it occur to him that Ottilie might not actually have been crying when he came upon her. That’s why she had seemed so surprised by the suggestion. Her eyes were red, she sneezed twice, and it had been necessary for her to blow her nose not because she was upset but because she had a head cold. Flora had been right about that, but if she and Ottilie had not seen one another recently, how could Flora possibly have known?
‘Ah, there you are.’ Paul was in the library, reading through Luke’s correspondence, but his smile faded when he caught Luke’s savage expression. ‘What’s wrong? Has your grandmother taken a turn for the worse?’
‘I’ve just proposed to Ottilie Fleming, and she accepted me.’
‘Congratulations.’
Luke didn’t respond but instead walked to the credenza and poured two substantial measures of single malt. Paul accepted the glass that Luke handed to him and raised it in an ironic salute.
‘You don’t look exactly thrilled,’ he remarked.
Luke took a long sip of his drink and absently rubbed the top of Romulus’s big head. ‘And your reaction lacks conviction.’
‘I will pretend to be pleased if that’s what you want of me, and I would be if I thought you had entered into this engagement for the right reasons.’
Luke fell into a chair, brooding, unsettled, already half-regretting having acted in haste. Haste? Ha! He had been dithering, trying to deny the true nature of his feelings for Flora ever since she had breezed into his life and turned it on its head. Well, the die was cast now. He had done the right thing, had kept his promise to his father and temptation was well and truly out of his reach.
‘She has a head-cold, did you know?’
‘Who does?’
‘Ottilie.’
‘No.’ Paul shrugged. ‘She seemed fine at dinner last night. It must have come on quite suddenly. Best keep her away from the countess, in that case.’
‘How the devil did she know?’ Luke asked, thinking that the cold accounted for Flora’s reluctance to admit Ottilie to the countess’s rooms. But why hadn’t Ottilie told him that? He was perfectly sure that Flora would have explained. He had been so angry when he heard what she had done that it had spurred him into proposing. Damn it, he should have waited! But waited for what?
‘How did who know what?’ Paul asked, frowning.
Luke let out a long breath. ‘It doesn’t matter. Send a cable to Sam please, Paul. Have him check back carefully over the books to see if there are anomalies.’
Paul raised a brow. ‘I thought you went through them yourself.’
‘I did, but I could have missed something. If I did, it has to be well hidden but if it’s there, Sam will find it. Not that I expect him to, but…’
‘But what?’ Paul looked genuinely perplexed, as well he might. ‘What’s going on?’
Luke rolled his eyes. ‘Flora seems to think that George has been helping himself. It’s ridiculous, I know. He has absolutely no need to be dishonest but…’
Luke watched Paul’s reaction carefully, but all he did was shrug. ‘In that case, you are right to have Sam look. I for one trust Flora’s judgement, and I think deep down that you do too. You just don’t want to admit it. Anyway, if you think there’s something amiss you might have been better advised to hold off proposing.’
‘I’m perfectly sure that Sam won’t find a thing; I’m just being thorough and proving a point to Flora.’
‘That’s unworthy of you, Luke,’ Paul said on a note of mild censure.
Luke sighed. ‘Perhaps.’ He looked down at his feet, not liking himself a great deal at that moment. ‘I accused her of stirring up trouble for the Flemings because she was jealous of Ottilie.’
‘Ah.’ Paul drained his glass and pushed himself to his feet. ‘Well, I dare say you had your reasons, and I will leave you to reflect upon them while I go and send the cable to Sam.’
