“You cannot see the solicitor in this frame of mind. Leave, Geoffrey, until you are more rational.”
Lucas didn’t wait for the man to respond. Instead, he shifted his weight and quickly hauled him to his feet. Simpson had already pulled the door open and stepped neatly aside as Lucas shoved the idiot outside. Simpson slammed the door shut before Geoffrey had time to turn around.
Done.At least for that moment.
Lucas turned back. He saw first that Penelope and her husband were being escorted up the stairs, presumably to view the body. Diana stood to the side with her back straight, and her chin lifted as they passed by her without even looking her way. Which left the last two—his parents—with their backs pressed against the far wall and their lips curled in distaste. He didn’t even want to acknowledge their presence, but his father left him little choice. The moment Penelope and her husband disappeared from sight, his father spoke.
“How could you involve yourself in something so sordid?”
Childhood habits reared as he felt his lip curl in an identical expression of disdain. After learning that he was alive, all they could do was criticize him? Or scream? Fortunately, Diana interrupted him before he gave voice to any cruel response.
“Your son saved my life last night. I am most grateful to him.”
“But why is he here at all?” his mother gasped. “We declared him dead.”
“How did you find out I was here?” he asked.
“We didn’t,” his mother said. “We heard from others that you left some masquerade withher.” She clearly included Diana in every sordid thing she could conceive.
“And we came to find out the truth,” his father continued. “Only to see you brawling on the floor like a common guttersnipe.”
Diana blew out a breath. “He was saving my life,” she said dryly. “And I find your reaction to your son’s continued existence extremely odd.”
“Odd?” his mother sniffed. “You can say such a thing after what we just witnessed?”
“You didn’t witness anything,” Lucas said, suddenly weary of the whole affair. “You’re just angry that I have the audacity to be alive.” He straightened to his full height and brushed back his hair with his damaged hand. Now she could see his scarred face clearly. “It’s me, alive and not as well as you no doubt want.”
“Stop it, Lucas,” chided Diana. “That isn’t kind of you. They’ve had a shock.”
They’ve had a shock?Diana’s husband had just died, and the murderer had come to gloat. But none of that reflected on her face as she gestured to the parlor.
“Come in, everyone. Let’s sit down to a cup of…” She winced, no doubt remembering that her husband had been poisoned with tea. “To some refreshments. Then we can sort things through.”
“No, Diana,” he began. “On today of all days, you need not…” His voice trailed away at her fixed stare.
“You saved my life, Lucas. I’ll not abandon you now.”
“You don’t need to stand by my side. I’m in no danger from them.” That was true. No physical danger, at least. But inside, he felt a war going on between what he feared and what was real. He’d been avoiding this moment for years, and he barely understood why. Until he looked at his parents’ hard expressions and knew that, even though he was a man, there was still a child inside him. One who had been hurt over and over by them.
As if she understood his tangled emotions, Diana answered him with a calm air he appreciated. “Even so, I will not leave you.” Then she called for refreshments.
Chapter Eighteen
Honesty was sucha horrible thing; it was no wonder everyone avoided it. Such was Diana’s thought as she hosted the most bizarre tea ever at barely ten o’clock in the morning.
Lucas’s parents were polite as they sat down to food that no one wanted. Still, they directed her to milk and no sugar as if it were of international importance. Lucas had nothing to drink, of course. His body was so rigid, she suspected he was trying to turn his cells to stone. And then all four of them suffered through the most banal small talk. They were sorry for her loss and embarrassed to intrude, the weather was appropriately dismal, and what a delightful tea blend.
Normally, Diana would have allowed the polite farce to go on without interruption. It was not her place to intervene in their family affairs. But Lucas sat like a man waiting for his execution. His expression was tight, and she could feel tension vibrating in him. His hands were clenched on his thighs, there was no sign that he breathed at all, and his gaze remained as sharp as a stiletto on the empty space between his parents’ heads.
“You might as well ask your questions,” she finally said. “I doubt you will get another chance.”
The earl’s gaze snapped to hers. “Why?” he asked, his voice a hard knock of sound.
He meant why they wouldn’t get another chance to talk to their son, and in answer, she simply looked to Lucas’s rigid posture. Did the man know nothing of his son? It was only out of deference to her that he was sitting here at all. She knew that if he had his choice, he would be anywhere but with them. The earl must have understood at least some of what she was thinking, so he voiced that same question again in an equally hard tone.
“Why?” This time the word encompassed so much more. Why had he played dead? Why hadn’t he told them he was alive? Why had he acted as he did? And that was her question as well.
In answer, Lucas looked to his mother. He didn’t say a word, just stared hard at her until she clenched her jaw so tight that the muscles trembled along her neck. When her words came, they were like shards of broken glass spit out at Lucas.
