Page 6 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘That is what George says.’ She glanced up at him without an ounce of artifice in her expression. ‘I certainly hope I will be that lucky.’
‘Are you looking forward to mixing in English society? I can’t imagine that you lacked attention in its Bostonian equivalent.’
Her smile lit up her intriguing brown eyes and enhanced her elfin features. She really was a very pretty girl and Luke failed to understand why he hesitated—except for the fact that he knew damned well why. Images of Flora’s mischievous smile plagued his imagination, but he pushed them ruthlessly aside. He didn’t have to try and convince himself that catching sight of Flora aroused his passions. It had happened frequently and there was nothing he was able to do to prevent it any more than he could stop her from disagreeing with him if she thought his decisions were ill-advised. Ottilie would support anything he did without ever questioning his authority. He told himself that would make for a peaceful life rather than a dull one.
Besides, a promise was a promise. He had given his father his solemn word shortly before his death, that he would marry a female from their own class, thus maintaining the family’s standing within society’s ranks. His conscience would give him merry hell if he blithely assumed that a promise freely given had died with his father. Indeed, the pater had extracted it from him in the unlikely event of an accident befalling him, blithely unaware that tragedy was about to strike. That made the promise sacrosanct in Luke’s eyes.
Had his father still been alive, he would have threatened to disown Luke if he went against his wishes, especially if he settled his interest on a paid companion. His father had always been very aware of his status. But Luke would not have even considered defying him during his lifetime—he respected the man too much to disappoint him—and it would be an affront to his memory if he did so now that he was in his grave.
‘I had my share of admirers, it’s true,’ Ottilie said in answer to Luke’s question. He’d been so lost in thought that he’d almost forgotten voicing it. ‘But I have known since I turned fifteen that I didn’t want to settle permanently in America. England is my home. My future is here.’
‘Land in sight,’ George said, bounding up to join them at the rail. ‘Can’t say I’m sorry to see it. I’m not much of a sailor and that crossing was rough.’
‘Was it?’ Ottilie smiled at her brother. ‘I found it exhilarating.’
‘You have a cast-iron constitution.’ George tugged affectionately at a curl that had escaped from the confines of her hat. ‘I, on the other hand, have been violently ill.’
‘Poor George.’ Ottilie laughed at him. ‘I promise not to tell anyone that you disgraced yourself.’
‘Have you made up your mind where you plan to settle?’ Luke asked.
‘I have to go to London for a few days to see my father’s attorney, settle his affairs and so on,’ George said. ‘Then we’re for Swindon. It was our home before we left and I have a yen to return there, purchase a small estate and set myself up as a gentleman farmer.’
‘Then stay at Beranger Court until you find somewhere suitable,’ Luke invited, thinking that seeing Ottilie beneath his roof would help him to make up his mind. ‘My sister Mary, as you know, is now married to Paul Dalton. You’ll remember Paul from our university days, George. He works for me and is now also related to me. Anyway, Mary and Paul live permanently at the Court and Mary will be glad of your company, Miss Fleming, I’m absolutely sure of it.’
‘That’s very civil of you,’ George replied. ‘Thank you, Luke. We’ll take you up on that offer. I don’t plan to purchase immediately. A lease on a furnished house would better suit until I find my feet.’
‘I’ll put enquiries in hand and have properties lined up for you to inspect when you arrive, if you like. There’s always one or two decent places available.’
George inclined his head. ‘Much obliged, I’m sure.’
‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Luke glanced towards the shore. ‘It looks as though we’re about to dock at last. We had best prepare ourselves.’
The three of them left the ship once it had tied up alongside and the formalities were dealt with. They took a train together to London and parted company. Luke was anxious to return to Swindon. He hadn’t liked the accounts of his grandmother’s health that Paul had relayed. In fact, Paul’s last communication had prompted Luke’s decision to return. Not one to panic, Paul had made it sound as though his grandmother had little time left, and Luke would never forgive himself if she died when he was absent from the estate.
He settled into a first-class carriage on the Swindon train, wondering what Flora would do when her services were no longer required. The thought of losing her caused his heart to lurch almost as much as it did when he contemplated the impending loss of his grandmother. More, perhaps. He had known for a long time that his grandmother’s life was nearing its end, but hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on the consequences or to consider what he would lose along with her. And yet it was within his power to prevent that loss. He wouldn’t have to convince himself that he would eventually grow to love Flora. He was already a fair way down the road to devotion.
Damn that promise he’d made to the pater! And damn Flora and her fanciful notions about the occult. Unlike Ottilie, she wouldn’t make a biddable wife, nor would she obey him if she disagreed with him. Would that be such a bad thing? Confound it, yes it would! A man was judged by his ability to control his wife. He had a position to maintain and would not become a laughingstock because he had chosen to marry an opinionated woman. Besides, it was by no means certain that she would accept a proposal from him. She was one of the few females of his acquaintance who would reject him—perhaps the only one—simply because he didn’t accept that she was blessed with second sight. A wry smile graced his lips at the thought of her contrary ways. She was nothing if not challenging.
Such random speculations occupied Luke’s mind until the train pulled into Swindon station. Paul was there with his carriage to meet him and the two old friends greeted one another warmly.
‘How is my grandmother?’ was the first question that Luke asked once they were installed in the conveyance and the driver had whipped up his team. ‘I hope I am not too late. Your last cable made it sound as though the end is close.’
‘It is, but she has rallied a little. Mary thinks she’s waiting to see you again. It’s been difficult for everyone.’
‘I’m sorry so much fell on your shoulders, Paul. If Sam hadn’t been so keen to run the Boston estate, I would have sold up and been back much sooner.’
‘You did the right thing. Sam needs a challenge. Besides, bearing some of the load is what you pay me for. Your family is now mine too.’
‘How is my sister?’
‘Thriving, but for her worry over the countess.’
Luke wanted to ask after Flora but managed to restrain himself. He would see her soon enough, and the prospect brightened his otherwise low mood. Paul updated Luke on estate matters and by the time he had run out of words, the carriage had arrived at the entrance portico to Beranger Court. Mary ran across the entrance hall to greet him, throwing her arms around Luke’s neck.
‘You’re back!’ she cried unnecessarily.
‘How are you?’ Luke asked, giving Mary’s waist an affectionate squeeze and holding her at arm’s length as he examined her face. ‘It appears that married life agrees with you. You are positively radiant.’
