“Altercation?”
“Boyish high spirits.” He felt her skepticism. “All right. It was a veritable riot. One of the newest boys is having a hard time of it. You’ll see for yourself come Monday.”
“You’re not expelling him then?”
“No. I promised his sponsor I’d do what I could, and I’m not giving in yet. I may lose two or three other students in the process, but I’m not giving up on this nipper. I’ve got a streak of stubbornness to rival any.”
That pleased Lydia. “I think we’ll get on very well, Father.” She stood and extended her hand. “Monday next. I’ll be looking forward to it. May I have some books so I might prepare lessons?”
Father Colgan released Lydia’s hand. If there had been any bargain made he believed he’d got the better of it. “Follow me. I’ll show you where everything is.”
Irish wheeledhis chair around sharply. The footrest caught one of the legs on an end table and the chair and Irish came to an abrupt halt. Nathan did not move to offer assistance, knowing it would only make Irish angrier. He stayed where he was, one hip resting on the edge of Irish’s desk, his arms folded casually in front of him, and said nothing while Irish tried to extricate himself and the chair.
“Bloody hell,” Irish swore sourly, pushing the table over. Free now, he completed his turn, faced Nathan, and went on without missing a beat. “You’re going after her, of course.”
“You said you read what she wrote to me,” Nathan said. “There is no ‘of course’ about it. You know what Lydia’s wishes are. I’m staying here at Ballaburn.”
“She doesn’t know what she wants.”
Nathan didn’t argue the point. He had spent all morning thinking about that very thing and had come to the opposite conclusion. Lydiadidknow what she wanted. “What did her letter to you say?” he asked. “I assume she didn’t leave without writing you as well.”
“She wrote. Told me she regards me affectionately. Says she’ll miss me but that I’m welcome to visit her in Sydney.Regards me with affection!Hah!Visit her!As if that’s satisfactory. I want her here, Nathan. I’ve only known her a week. A week!”
“You’ve had longer with her than I have, Irish.”
“What do you mean? You were with her for the entire voyage.”
“Never mind,” he said. “It’s not important.” Irish wouldn’t understand. The voyage was something that happened out of time, something that should never have been. Her memory loss altered the way she responded to him. Lydia had trusted him then, loved him, all because she hadn’t really understood the man he was. Now she remembered and now she was gone. There was no one around to force him and Lydia into each other’s pockets as he had done for Irish. “She said you could visit her,” Nathan went on. “That’s more invitation than I received. I would not treat the affection you’ve earned so cavalierly. I know. Lydia thought she loved me once.”
The bluster drained out of Irish. He couldn’t intimidate Nathan or threaten him. He refused to plead. “What do you suggest I do?”
“Wait to hear from her. Once she’s settled, take her belongings to her personally. If she wrote that she wanted you to visit, she meant it. Lydia’s resourceful, Irish. She’ll be writing soon.”
He nodded, sighing. Calmer now, he felt not only his own sadness but had a sense of Nathan’s as well. He poured himself a drink, offered Nathan something, and stoppered the decanter. “What about you?” he asked.
Nathan shrugged. “I’ll be here if she changes her mind.”
Irish was not deceived by Nathan’s practiced indifference. He rolled his tumbler of whiskey back and forth in his palms, watching the amber liquid slosh gently against the rim but never overflow. “What about your feelings for my daughter?” he asked.
“What about them?”
“Does she know you’re in love with her?”
Nathan levered himself away from the desk. His hands settled at his side. “I have work to do, Irish. I’ve neglected things all morning.” He started to walk to the library door.
“She was going to ask you for an annulment,” Irish said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his words stop Nathan cold. “That’s when I told her about the conditions for you to take control of Ballaburn. I told her you’d never agree to an annulment. Was I right?”
“It’s a moot point,” Nathan said heavily. “No one will ever know because she didn’t raise the issue. That isn’t what we argued about last night. Annulment was never mentioned.”
“Ask yourself why. I don’t think it’s because she was worried that you’d turn her down. She’d take that risk. She had nothing to lose.”
“What are you getting at, Irish? Say it plainly so I can disagree and get on with my work.”
Irish’s glance was assessing and shrewd. “Just this: she didn’t broach the subject because she was afraid you’dacceptthe offer. That’s how much she wants you to have Ballaburn. If you can’t see that it’s a measure of her love, then you, my friend, need to get a better ruler.”
Nathan laughed shortly. One corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile. “You keep trying to write a better ending to your ill-conceived wager. Be satisfied that it worked as well as it has. You’ve got Lydia here for a year and passed on the scepter at Ballaburn. There was never a word mentioned about anyone’s happiness. Not Brig’s, not mine, certainly not Lydia’s. You can’t make things right between Lydia and me so don’t interfere. You’re only guessing as to how each of us feels. You don’t know anything about it, Irish. Not a thing.” He turned on his heel and left.
Irish pursed his lips and brushed his thick mustache with a forefinger. He stared thoughtfully at the open doorway long after Nathan had gone through it. “Don’t I though?” he said to himself. “That I could have given Ballaburn to one fool and sired another. It doesn’t do a dying man credit.”
