He'd been at school when she had been a small child—with her own brother, Paul, but not of course at the same school. A second-class school was as far as her father's obligation to his adoptive cousin's child went. It wasn't as if she'd actually been real family, he was fond of reminding them at frequent intervals. Luke's mother's background had been a mystery. How had she repaid their generosity? With Luke, a cruel but, in her father's eyes, predictable outcome to such a foolish action. She had rejected all the advantages bestowed upon her and had chosen to raise her son single-handed, turning her back on the adoptive parents who had rejected her. It had of course been a source of intense frustration to her parents when Luke, the cuckoo in the nest, had outshone their own cosseted heir in every field. Both young men had gone on to the same university, but Luke had gone on a scholarship and her brother had scraped in.
Her brother, while not her favourite person, was still her brother and her attitude to Luke owed much to his resentment. He'd slaved away, at least so he'd told them, and Luke had mixed with undesirable elements, getting involved in numerous dissident activities, and had still managed to emerge the other side with a first. The details to her young mind had meant little, but she could understand the seething frustration and dislike her brother had felt.
In retrospect, she was glad Luke had incredibly refused the offer of a post in the merchant bank her grandfather had created. He had never fitted snugly into her world; their relationship was tenuous; he was a connection rather than family. Even without the blood tie it made him the proverbial black sheep, who hadn't had the decency to be a failure. At the time it had caused a minor furore. 'After all we've done for him' and 'bad blood will out' had been two phrases she recalled being bandied about a good deal. But at least Paul hadn't had to start his career under the shadow of his cousin's flair and undoubted ability.
At the time it had been decided and, she suspected, fervently hoped that Luke would regret his arrogant assumption that he could make his own way without the cushioning security of the family. He hadn't, of course, and, though his visits were not frequent, he kept in touch as much to flaunt his success as his unconventional lifestyle which was anathema to her tradition-bound household.
It hit her in that split-second as she opened her mouth to denounce Luke's tactics and total lack of feeling. The corrosive impact of all she had lost in a few moments made her fight for air and go deathly pale. All her dreams…plans. And the humiliation. How long had they…? She tormented herself with the knowledge that while she had discussed the wedding plans with Charlotte, her sister had been… She closed her eyes, a deep cry of distress wrenched from her throat.
'Don't faint!' The voice sounded faintly impatient and the hands that forced her into a sitting position and pushed her head between her knees were ruthlessly efficient but not very gentle.
Emily took several deep gulps and the singing in her ears retreated to the distance. She raised her head cautiously.
'I never had you pegged as the swooning sort.'
She glared hazily at the harsh features of her companion and swore. 'It's not every day I find my boyfriend prefers my sister. I realise vulnerability isn't a familiar term to you,' she snarled. Considering that the first book he'd published had made her weep unashamedly, he really was the most inhumane person she had ever met. She recalled the stark black and white pictures, each with a few succinct and touching lines illustrating, without the need of lengthy dialogue, the inequality between the children scattered over the globe, their fates sealed by the arbitrary hand of geography.
'You'll get over it.'
This announcement made her abandon her attempt to puzzle the paradox of Luke's personality; the depth of sensitivity and compassion for human vulnerability she'd seen in those pictures, and the cynical man who had the viperous tongue and barbarous humour with which he heartlessly annihilated others with what seemed like arbitrary cruelty. 'That's the future; it's now I'm concerned about.' Her confused eyes collided with the startling blue gaze, not expecting to find an answer to her dilemma. 'What am I going to do?' she said bleakly, half to herself.
'No one's going to blame you.'
She blinked, hurt by the unspoken implication that she was in some way to blame. The innuendo in his voice she could normally cope with, but her emotions felt too close to the surface, vulnerable to every nuance. 'I suppose that's what everyone will think—it was my fault that he went with Charlotte. I can see it now. I wasn't woman enough…' The knowing glances, the speculation and the pity too. 'I don't want pity.'
'I won't give you any,' he assured her. 'It seems to me you're indulging in just about all you can handle. I hope you don't mind my pointing it out, Emily, but when you start to wallow in self-pity you get this unattractive whining note in your voice.' He patted her head. 'You might keep it in mind.'