Lucien let out a bitter laugh. “Of course.”
His father crossed his arms and continued to give Lucien that assessing look. “But you still care for her.”
He considered telling his father about their arrangement, saying that it had all only been for show. But he didn’t have it in him to lie anymore. Because even if it had started that way, that wasn’t how it had ended. Certainly not for him, anyway.
“I do,” he murmured, unable to meet his father’s eyes.
“And there is no chance of a—”
Lucien snapped his gaze up and gritted his teeth. “No.”
His father raised his hands in supplication. “All right, all right. I only wanted to be sure.”
Lucien slumped back in his chair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be cross with you. But I can’t talk about it.”
About her.
“Fair enough,” his father said with a nod. “What about work? Can we talk about that?”
“Please. Tell me what you have been doing.”
Lucien then listened as his father related the gradual reassumption of his duties. “I don’t think I’ll ever return to the London property,” he continued. “But from what I hear, Markham is doing a bang-up job.”
“He is,” Lucien said. “But is your position secure? I’ve been worried about you.”
His father waved a hand. “Oh, I’m fine. I still have a few more working years left in me. And when I do retire, I have my pension and some savings.”
Lucien leaned forward. “But will that be enough for you to live on, especially if you can’t stay here in the flat?”
“Yes. Certainly. Your mother and I made provisions.”
“But the money you gave me for Paris,” Lucien pointed out. “I know how costly it was. And I want to assure you that I will pay you back every last cent. In fact, I’m starting a new job next week and—” He broke off as his father suddenly looked very guilty. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” his father said briskly. “Tell me about your new job. Is it the supper club?”
Lucien frowned, unconvinced. “No. I… I’ve given up on that. I’m working in the kitchen at Alain’s hotel—”
“But you hate working in kitchens.”
“Yes, but I need the money, Father,” he said with exasperation.
The guilty look returned. “Not for me, I hope.”
Lucien let out a sigh and dragged a hand over his face. Were all parents this impossible? “I do want to be able to help you, especially after what you did for me.”
“I should have told you much sooner,” his father said, almost as if he were chastising himself. “But I didn’t think you would take things this far.”
“Told mewhat?”
His father reached out and patted his hand. “You don’t need to worry about me, Lucien. And certainly not about money.”
“But Paris,” he insisted. “You must have used all your savings to send me. And if I had any idea of the cost then, I wouldn’t have let you!”
His father stared at him for a moment. “I didn’t use my own money, Lucien. Not a cent.”
Lucien shook his head, confused. “Then how…”
“She made me promise never to tell you,” his father said matter-of-factly while studiously avoiding Lucien’s gaze. “That I should allow you to think it was me. I objected, naturally, but what choice did I have? You’re right. I could never have afforded to send you to that school. It would have cost me everything. But I wish I could have—”
