Chapter Twenty-Two

L uke had been at his father’s house for two days. All he’d managed to impart was that he was abstaining from wine and spirits for the foreseeable future, finding he preferred life seen through a clear lens.

The Earl had looked pleased but had said nothing. Because of course he wouldn’t. Heaven forbid he praise his son on a good decision.

Belle’s voice sounded in his head, twisting his heart in his chest even more. Not drinking as a form of self-control is a basic standard of adulthood. Why should your father praise you for that?

Still, The Earl’s stern countenance made it difficult to muster the courage to tell him about Free Your Spirits. The name, the entire plan suddenly sounded ill-conceived and frivolous. He paced his room, done in dark greens and dark woods, feeling as though he was lost in a forest. And he wished for the millionth time Belle was with him in person, rather than in sarcastic comments in his head.

If he could not discuss his present or his future, how would he raise the past in order to find a new common ground?

Tired of pacing, he rejected a half-hearted wish for a whisky for bravery and went to find The Earl.

He was in his office, of course, seated at the same desk reviewing business for one estate or another to manage the earldom. It was another reminder of how many conversational and learning struggles Luke faced. Funny, though. There were more scratches lightening the wood than there had been, and the desk was smaller, less imposing than he remembered.

“Luke, come in. Shall I ring for tea?”

“No, thank you. I’d like to speak to you about a project I’ve been working on.” He gestured at the desk. “That is, if you have time.”

The Earl frowned.

Luke couldn’t tell if his father was irritated at the interruption.

But all he said was, “Yes, I have time.” He gestured to the guest chairs.

Luke took one facing the desk and leaned forward.

“What is this project, then?”

The tongue-in-cheek name now seemed frivolous, so he started with the concept. “I wish to set up a home for men struggling with dependencies. I plan to start with drink and dice, but I hope to expand it to more later, and/or to women.”

“I see.” The Earl sat back and steepled his fingers, elbows on the arms of his chair. His evaluation pose.

Luke stiffened. That pose usually preceded condemnation of his actions, or at the very least some probing questions that led to condemnation.

“Does this have anything to do with your decision not to imbibe?”

He gulped. It was time to be his own man and stop worrying about his father’s reactions. “Yes.”

The Earl nodded, mulling this over. He said, “It seems a worthy cause. You can put that Oxford education to good use, eh?”

Blast. Luke once again heard Belle’s voice in his head speaking about honesty and integrity. Apparently, they were going to cover a lot of ground in this conversation. “About that, sir.”

His father’s brows rose.

Luke clenched his hands against the chair’s arms, searching for his bravery. Lifting his chin, he said, “I did not finish my studies, I’m afraid. I was in London most of the past year.”

The brows drew down and together into the scowl Luke had expected. “Where did the funds I sent go?”

“I, um, used them to live off in London...?” His voice ticked up into a question without intending to.

“Doing what, exactly?”

Luke squared his shoulders, telling himself to get it over with. If he needed to travel back to London, he might as well know that now.

“Dice and cards. And whisky.”

“I see.” The Earl heaved a heavy sigh.

Luke’s muscles tightened with the desire to bolt in the face of yet another angry lecture.

But his father surprised him, saying, “I begin to understand your motivation for this new enterprise more. Are you certain that having people struggle around you is best—I suppose I should first ask, has all that come to an end, I hope?”

There it was. Condemnation in the form of a question. Luke sighed. “Yes. As for the home, the idea is that there would be no such temptations for the duration of their stay, for a month or so. After that, there would be regular check-ins.”

“Hmm.”

Luke braced himself, unable to see past the stern countenance to what The Earl might be thinking.

“Why, Luke?”

“Why help others? Because—”

“No. Why did you leave Oxford without finishing your degree? And why not tell me? And for heaven’s sake, why would you waste a year on gaming and drink?”

“Why not? Because you’d taught me better?” All Luke’s bitterness came rolling out at his father’s harsh questions. “You didn’t spend enough time in a room with me to teach me anything. When Mama passed, you shut me out and sent me away.”

The echo of his words sounded in the room. His father sat frozen and silent; his hands dropped to the arms of his chair as he stared at Luke.

Knocking at the door broke their gaze.

The Earl called, “What is it?”

A footman stepped in. “Pardon me, your lordships, but you have a visitor. She insisted you’d want to know right away.”

“Well, who is it? And you say ’tis a woman, and she is here for... both of us?” His father’s voice was querulous.

“A Mrs. Rossi, sir.”

They gasped in unison.