Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

‘We had to talk business,’ he protested. ‘It’s hard to time transatlantic conversations right. It was the only spot we both had free every evening.’

‘You don’t even talk to your own attorneys every evening, so why would you need to talk to her? Face it, you’ve fallen in love with the girl.’ Grant shrugged. ‘Not that I ever thought I’d see the day.’

Lachlan opened his mouth to argue, but closed it swiftly. What was there to argue with? His phone calls definitely hadn’t been about business. Anything between him and Lucy had ceased to be about the Glencarraig inheritance a long time ago.

He slid his hand in his pocket, feeling the paper he’d shoved in there before he left for the hotel. Soft, shiny, and a little bit battered.

‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ he said, lifting his hand and grabbing another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘It’s over. She’s gone.’ The expression on his face left them in no doubt he didn’t want to talk about it any more. What else was there to say?

He’d lost her, and at some point he’d have to accept it. And for now, he’d just bluster his way through.

He made it through the evening without bumping into his brother. He’d been deliberately avoiding that whole side of his family, sticking to his own table, the bar, and the occasional foray to speak to friends. But still, at least he’d be able to leave the gala without any fuss.

Inside the ballroom, the party was still in full swing: the low beat of the music, the constant stream of chatter reverberating through the doors, which opened regularly as people made their way to the bathroom. Lachlan nodded at the hatcheck man, sliding a ten into the bowl even though he hadn’t brought a coat. Glancing at his phone, he checked to see if his car was here yet.

Five minutes away, that wasn’t so bad. He decided to wait outside – the New York spring was slowly giving way to summer, and the evening was feeling warm. He loosened his tie as he walked out through the exit, and unfastened his top button.

He’d barely stepped onto the sidewalk before he came to an abrupt stop. In front of him was a man who shared the same hair and the same nose as him, though very little else.

‘Duncan.’ Lachlan nodded at him.

‘Lachlan.’ Duncan looked him up and down. ‘Are you leaving already?’

How long had it been since the two of them had exchanged more than a nod? Since they’d grown into men, the two of them had barely spoken. There was too much bad blood – and too many bad years – between them.

‘I have somewhere else to be.’

There was a twitch in Duncan’s jaw, as though he was clenching his teeth too tightly. ‘Well, thank you for coming anyway. Dad would have been pleased.’

It was strange the way those words made Lachlan feel. A mixture of pride alongside a dash of resentment that Duncan would know what their father would have felt.

Because Lachlan had absolutely no idea at all.

His thoughts turned to Lucy again, and her choice to always put her family first. It was hard to imagine ever feeling that way if his brother needed him. Not that Duncan ever did.

‘It was a good evening,’ Lachlan said. ‘I’m sure you’ll raise lots of money.’ He glanced at his watch. Where the hell was his car?

‘I was hoping we’d get to talk tonight.’ Duncan looked uneasy. ‘I wanted to speak with you about this court thing. I wanted to explain.’

Lachlan shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. ‘Nothing to explain. It’s business.’ And quite frankly he couldn’t give a flying damn about the inheritance. It didn’t matter, not any more.

‘No, it isn’t.’ Duncan took a step forward. ‘I didn’t want to take it to court. There’s nothing more distasteful than family suing family. I just don’t have a choice.’

Lachlan looked up at him, frowning. ‘What do

you mean?’

‘It’s really important to Mom that I keep that part of our father with me. I promised her I wouldn’t give up.’ Duncan inhaled deeply, his shoulders lifting up. ‘I don’t want to fight you for it, but I don’t know what else to do.’

For a moment, Lachlan thought of Duncan’s mother – his father’s wife, even when Lachlan was conceived. She’d been a shadowy presence whenever he’d visited. Stoic, but clearly upset by his being there. And no wonder, Lachlan was a walking, breathing reminder of her husband’s infidelities.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, remembering the way Lucy had tried to hide her own secret for so long. How many years were the children expected to pay for the sins of their parents? Would they ever be able to shake off the shackles of their past.

‘My mother felt the same,’ Lachlan said when he opened his eyes. But he was really questioning himself. What his mother – and Duncan’s mother – wanted was irrelevant. Even their father’s wishes weren’t written in stone. It was up to them to decide how to deal with things, they were the ones in control here.

For the first time he saw himself and Duncan as they really were: puppets who were taking roles in somebody else’s play. As children, they’d obeyed their mothers, become their proxies in this crazy fight for their father’s love and attention, the same father who showed no interest in them. And he had sympathy for the boys they’d been then. They were only kids, after all.

But they weren’t kids any more. And the two of them had the power to change things.