insisted. She thought it would pull you from your black temper. Instead, I fear, it’s only heightened your insolence.”
Colin forced himself to maintain his relaxed demeanor, but his fingers betrayed him, gripping the goggles so tightly his knuckles must be white inside his gloves. “Forgive me, Father. Even my grief offends you. Perhaps Christian would have been less morose. Once again, it is a pity he died instead of me.”
“How dare you?” Sir Edward blustered, turning from the window. “You mock his death.”
Colin climbed to his feet—he wouldn’t subject himself to his father’s pointed barbs a minute longer. His voice came out calm, despite the anger churning in his gut. “It is precisely the opposite, sir. I wish he had not died because I will never be him, and it is obvious this family would have been better off if his life had been spared instead of mine.” He started for the door, but his father’s next words halted his retreat.
“There is more at stake here than your pride and freedom, Colin,” his father bit out before his tone changed from bitterness to despair. “If you do not pull yourself together and do what you must, we will lose even more than we already have.”
Colin turned back, surprise puncturing his frustration. “What are you talking about?”
Sir Edward ran a hand over his face, then sank onto the nearest couch. “I wanted to keep it from you. To allow you to live carefree, as your mother advised.”
Nerves tightened Colin’s stomach, reminding him of those first few minutes when he’d ascend the skies to square off with the Germans. “What do you mean?”
“The fact of the matter is we are living on the edge of a cliff.” His father glanced around the library as if seeing it for the first time. “One that is crumbling under our feet as we speak.” He leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “My overseas investments did not weather the war. We are living on your mother’s money at present, but that, too, will eventually run out.”
Colin returned to his seat, his mind roiling with the news. He hadn’t suspected financial troubles in the least. If anything, the way his parents had thrown parties and dinners recently, he’d imagined there was plenty of capital to be spent.
“What will happen to Elmthwaite Hall?” He had to know, though he feared the answer.
Sir Edward waved his hand in an arc that took in the bookcases and comfortable furnishings. “We may be forced to sell it, along with that aeroplane of yours, I might add.”
“Sell Elmthwaite?” The air left Colin’s lungs in a painful whoosh. His family had lived in this valley since the seventeenth century. He might feel confined here, but he knew no other home. He and Christian had been born and raised here, beside the mountains and the lake.
Still, the possibility of selling their ancestral home might not have pained him as much three years ago, before he’d made his promise to Christian. A promise exacted from Colin on the day Christian had been killed.
Promise me that you won’t ever turn your back on Elmthwaite.
The strong resolve of Christian’s voice filled Colin’s mind as if his brother had once again spoken the words. Colin couldn’t fail to keep the one thing Christian had prized more than anything else in the world, second only to their family.
“What about selling Brideshall in Scotland?” he pressed, anxious for some other answer to their troubles.
Nearly every summer that Colin could remember the family had traveled to their house in the Western Highlands of Scotland for holiday. The estate, Brideshall, sat on an island in the middle of the loch. While Colin hated to give up a place full of many other fond memories, it was far better than selling Elmthwaite Hall.
“I’m already preparing to sell Brideshall, which means we won’t be going there this year. But I’m afraid the proceeds won’t sustain us for long. Selling Elmthwaite would still have to follow.”
Colin forced himself to maintain his relaxed demeanor, but his fingers betrayed him, gripping the goggles so tightly his knuckles must be white inside his gloves. “Forgive me, Father. Even my grief offends you. Perhaps Christian would have been less morose. Once again, it is a pity he died instead of me.”
“How dare you?” Sir Edward blustered, turning from the window. “You mock his death.”
Colin climbed to his feet—he wouldn’t subject himself to his father’s pointed barbs a minute longer. His voice came out calm, despite the anger churning in his gut. “It is precisely the opposite, sir. I wish he had not died because I will never be him, and it is obvious this family would have been better off if his life had been spared instead of mine.” He started for the door, but his father’s next words halted his retreat.
“There is more at stake here than your pride and freedom, Colin,” his father bit out before his tone changed from bitterness to despair. “If you do not pull yourself together and do what you must, we will lose even more than we already have.”
Colin turned back, surprise puncturing his frustration. “What are you talking about?”
Sir Edward ran a hand over his face, then sank onto the nearest couch. “I wanted to keep it from you. To allow you to live carefree, as your mother advised.”
Nerves tightened Colin’s stomach, reminding him of those first few minutes when he’d ascend the skies to square off with the Germans. “What do you mean?”
“The fact of the matter is we are living on the edge of a cliff.” His father glanced around the library as if seeing it for the first time. “One that is crumbling under our feet as we speak.” He leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “My overseas investments did not weather the war. We are living on your mother’s money at present, but that, too, will eventually run out.”
Colin returned to his seat, his mind roiling with the news. He hadn’t suspected financial troubles in the least. If anything, the way his parents had thrown parties and dinners recently, he’d imagined there was plenty of capital to be spent.
“What will happen to Elmthwaite Hall?” He had to know, though he feared the answer.
Sir Edward waved his hand in an arc that took in the bookcases and comfortable furnishings. “We may be forced to sell it, along with that aeroplane of yours, I might add.”
“Sell Elmthwaite?” The air left Colin’s lungs in a painful whoosh. His family had lived in this valley since the seventeenth century. He might feel confined here, but he knew no other home. He and Christian had been born and raised here, beside the mountains and the lake.
Still, the possibility of selling their ancestral home might not have pained him as much three years ago, before he’d made his promise to Christian. A promise exacted from Colin on the day Christian had been killed.
Promise me that you won’t ever turn your back on Elmthwaite.
The strong resolve of Christian’s voice filled Colin’s mind as if his brother had once again spoken the words. Colin couldn’t fail to keep the one thing Christian had prized more than anything else in the world, second only to their family.
“What about selling Brideshall in Scotland?” he pressed, anxious for some other answer to their troubles.
Nearly every summer that Colin could remember the family had traveled to their house in the Western Highlands of Scotland for holiday. The estate, Brideshall, sat on an island in the middle of the loch. While Colin hated to give up a place full of many other fond memories, it was far better than selling Elmthwaite Hall.
“I’m already preparing to sell Brideshall, which means we won’t be going there this year. But I’m afraid the proceeds won’t sustain us for long. Selling Elmthwaite would still have to follow.”
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