Page 5

He suspected, then, that his sperm would still produce the required result.

“They must be devastated,” he said, bringing his focus back to the conversation.

“Yes. It’s been a shock to everyone.” Leave it to the Earl to personalise someone else’s tragedy, like a world-class narcissist. It brought back memories of how he’d responded to news of Cressida and Ewan’s relationship. Well, son, this one wasn’t to be. But the important thing is not to show what you’re feeling to the world. We’re Ashcombes, and that means something. So put on a show, go for dinner with them, let the world know there are no hard feelings.

Only there had been very hard feelings, on Hamish’s part. He hadn’t seen either of them since.

“I know they’d like to see you, Haim. It might make things easier.”

Hamish highly doubted that. And it certainly wouldn’t be easier for him.

“Regardless, it’s time to stop messing around. Your mother’s made a list⁠—”

“A list?”

“Of suitable women. We’d like you to come home and get to it.”

“I see. Have you prodded them to check their teeth?”

“They’re all known to us.”

Hamish had rolled his eyes. His father was a world-class snob, though it was hardly his fault, so much a reflection of how he’d been raised.

“I’m not coming back.”

“You misunderstand me, Hamish. I’m not asking.”

Hamish had laughed. “You’re what? Demanding it?”

“You are to inherit all of this.” He could picture the Earl waving his hand around the heavily lined bookcases of his ancient study. “It is your duty⁠—,”

“Please, I’ve heard this before.”

“You’re thirty-five.”

“I’m aware.”

“Your mother misses you.”

“She’s welcome any time.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Hamish had sighed heavily. “Dad, I plan to have kids. One day. But I don’t see the rush…”

The clicking of a door, faraway, but clear as a bell, sounded through the phone. He could picture his father shutting the heavy oak barrier between his study and the wide, carpeted hallway beyond.

“Look, it’s been a hard time, son.”

Son. That was really pulling out the big guns.

“It’s not just Ewan and Cressie,” he went on, causing Hamish to wince at the affectionate term for his former lover, and then, to stand a little straighter as he realised what his father was hinting at.

“Mum?”

“Yes. It’s back.”

Hamish had closed his eyes abruptly. She’d been cancer-free for years—long enough to have believed she was in the clear.