Page 47 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

Lucien had sent a message ahead of his arrival, but he truly had not expected his father to be up and about. As his father gripped him in a tight embrace, a weight Lucien hadn’t even known he was carrying floated off his shoulders.

“Hello, Father,” he murmured. “I’m so glad to see you.”

His father pulled back and gave him a worried look. “What’s happened, Lucien?”

Lucien shook his head and glanced down as the words seemed to get caught in his throat.

I’ve failed again.

And this time, it really did feel like the end of the world.

His father clicked his tongue. “Let’s get you inside. Mrs. Holloway brought over a basket with all your favorite treats and I’ll make us some tea.”

A little while later, they were seated in the flat’s cozy parlor drinking cups of Assam tea and Lucien was tearing into a still-warm scone.

“You look much better,” he said.

Indeed, his father’s face had filled out and the dark circles under his eyes were entirely gone. He was still thinner than he had once been, but no longer alarmingly gaunt.

“Thank you. I’ve been feeling better. You, however, look awful.”

Lucien let out a dry laugh and took a sip of tea. “Getting the stuffing kicked out of yourself will do that.” No sense in hiding the truth any longer, now that they were both on the mend.

His father did not look amused. “Yes, it certainly will, but you have the look of a young man in the throes of heartbreak.”

Lucien carefully set the teacup down and ignored the comment. “You knew about my injuries, then?”

His father watched him for a moment before answering. “Not initially, no. But once you were up and about Mrs. Drummond admitted how bad it was.”

Lucien was quiet as he took in this information.

“Now what about Miss Atkinson?”

“It’s over.”

“She called it off?”

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 me what ?”

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—”

“Oh my god,” Lucien said as he sat back in his chair.

You need to go somewhere far, far away from here.

Alex was the only one who had seen him that night. The only one who had known just how wretched and broken he had felt.

“It was her. All this time.”

His father finally looked at him and gave a solemn nod. “I thought Miss Alexandra must have told you. That it was what brought you together.”

“No. She never said a thing.”

“I don’t think she intended to deceive you,” his father offered.

But Lucien just laughed. “Certainly not.”

He was willing to bet Alex had forgotten all about her generous act. And even if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have told him, if only to keep him from feeling indebted to her.

“I’m sorry,” his father said. “I should have told you, but you know how she can be.”

Despite everything, Lucien’s lip curved at the thought of a younger Alex haranguing his father into submission.

“I’m sure she was rather terrifying,” he replied. “And yes, you should have told me.”

His father gave a sheepish nod. “Do you at least feel better now?”

Lucien laughed again at the hopeful look in his father’s eyes. “Perhaps a little,” he allowed.

About you, anyway.

“Then I should tell you that there is another reason why you shouldn’t worry so much about me.”

“Oh?” Lucien said drolly as he poured out another cup of tea. “And what is that?”

His father was suddenly unable to keep from smiling. “Mrs. Holloway and I are to be married.”

Lucien froze holding the teacup. Married.

“Are you upset?” his father asked, suddenly anxious.

Lucien considered the question and shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

“Good,” his father said, visibly relieved. “And you know, I will always love your mother.”

Lucien smiled. “Yes, Father. I know,” he answered honestly.

“Mrs. Holloway inherited a little cottage in Kent from an aunt. And we will live there once we both retire.”

“I’m glad.”

His father then cast him a look. “There is also a bedroom for you…”

“In case I remain a poor bachelor,” Lucien finished, attempting to make a joke that didn’t quite land.

“I only meant that there will always be a place in my home for you. No matter what. You are still very young, Lucien,” his father continued. “And you are smart and hard-working. You will achieve much in your life. I am sure of it.”

“Thank you, Father. I appreciate that.”

Now, if only he had that much faith in himself.