Page 5 of Enlightened

Murdo’s grin faded. He never spoke about his father and generally avoided any discussion of his family. What little David had managed to draw out of him suggested there were few good feelings, certainly on Murdo’s side.

“My father despises all trade,” he said. “But he needs it too. As a politician, he’s more interested in power than wealth, but he needs to keep his personal coffers healthy to maintain his reputation as man of a means. He likes that I excel at something, but he would prefer me to turn my energies to politics rather than wasting it on making money.” Murdo shrugged. “And he doesn’t relish the taint of trade. Investments are all very well, but to actually engage in business is rather too much for him.”

David couldn’t help it—he laughed. Murdo’s expression immediately lightened, his smile returning even as he frowned in puzzlement.

“What?” he said.

“It’s soabsurd,” David replied. “This idea that work—business—is somehow shameful. As though the highest state to which a man may aspire is to be entirely idle.”

“True. Though I cannot accuse my father of idleness, at least,” Murdo said. “He has lived and breathed politics all his life. And he has spent the last twenty years trying to drag me along in his footsteps.”

“Do you think you’ll ever grant his wish?”

For a long moment, Murdo was silent.

“I don’t plan to,” he said at last. “But my father has a way of bending people to his will. He finds your weak spot, and he exploits it.”

“Do you have weak spots to exploit, then?”

It was an impertinent question—none of David’s business. But he wanted to know the answer.

“Everyone has weak spots,” Murdo replied, giving David a careless smile. “The trick is not letting on what they are.”

“That’s not really an answer,” David observed. He smiled, though he felt strangely disappointed in Murdo’s careful response.

“Even my father has a weak spot,” Murdo said.

“What is it?”

Murdo shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I mean to find out, one of these days.”

An hour later, they were taking breakfast together when one of the maidservants popped her head round the door to say that Dr. Logan had just called by.

Murdo bade her show the physician in, and when the man entered, he looked weary and apologetic.

“I’m sorry to call so early, my lord,” he said, “but I was attending the birthing of your neighbour’s child till an hour ago and thought I’d take the chance of calling in on my way home in the hope that Mr. Lauriston may be willing to rearrange our appointment to save me coming back tomorrow.” He turned to David. “Would that inconvenience you, Mr. Lauriston?”

“Of course not,” David replied. “It suits me very well, in fact.” He’d had to suppress a grimace at the stabbing pain that shuddered down his leg when he and Murdo rose to greet the doctor, but now he managed a smile as he shook the man’s hand.

“Come and sit down, Doctor,” Murdo invited the physician. “Could you manage some breakfast before you examine Mr. Lauriston? We’ve plenty here.”

Logan readily agreed and was soon tucking into a plate of smoked haddock and eggs.

“I envy you your cook, my lord,” he confided between mouthfuls. “She’s a hundred times better than the fellow Sir Hamish had.”

“Mrs. Inglis has been with me for many years.”

The doctor showed his appreciation by scoffing a second helping of eggs, two bannocks and half a pot of coffee before he finally put down his napkin and sat back in his chair, a contented expression on his face.

“Well now, Mr. Lauriston,” he said, “if you’ve finished your own breakfast, shall we repair to your bedchamber and see how this leg of yours is doing?”

“It’s probably best if you examine Mr. Lauriston down here,” Murdo interrupted before David could so much as open his mouth to speak. David pressed his lips together, irritated at Murdo’s high-handedness but unwilling to argue in front of Dr. Logan with a man the good doctor believed was David’s employer.

Logan turned to Murdo with a questioning look on his face.

“Mr. Lauriston overexerted himself on Monday,” Murdo explained without so much as a glance in David’s direction. “He is still feeling the ill effects of his enthusiasm today—it may be better if you examine him in the sitting room next door to save him a painful walk upstairs.”

“There’s really no need—” David began.