Valentine took a breath to steady his own temper. “I will not.”
His father spun around. “You dare to defy me, boy?”
It was well past time to stand up to his father. He was four and twenty now and had long past seen a reason to kowtow to his father’s demands. “I have no interest in returning to Oxford, not now nor in the future. I made my home here long ago and I intend to stay.”
Few men disagreed with his father. By the way his skin mottled red, his temper was still unused to disappointment in the almost year since they’d seen each other. Christmas last year had been a tense affair.
“If you open a shop, I will cut you off without a penny,” he warned.
Valentine relaxed a bit. At least now he knew what they were arguing about. “As you have threatened before on many occasions when I did not act according to your liking. I will have my way in this no matter what you say.”
“Do you think so? Foolish, selfish boy.” His father’s eyes narrowed to hard slits. “And what of your sister and your cousin? Do you not think of how your decisions lower their esteem in other people’s eyes?”
Always one to tug on his emotions but never to reveal any of his own beside contempt, his father was not above manipulation to have his way. Melanie knew what changes would come by his going into trade and was prepared for every eventuality. Teresa did not know yet but she would fare as well as Melanie, and she’d always have his protection. Mother would have yet another reason to bemoan her wayward son. “I am sure they will survive.”
“You stun me with your arrogance.”
“I am my father’s son,” Valentine replied calmly.
His father waved a hand. “Get out. I cannot look at you until you talk sense.”
His complacency vanished. He was sick and tired of his father’s tone and it was time to lay down a few rules. “This house is mine. Bought and paid for from the inheritance my uncle left to me. You can leave any time you want to, but I will not be sent scurrying just because you demand it.”
The old man spluttered. “How dare you speak to me in that tone.”
“What would you prefer?” Valentine folded his arms across his chest. “You’re looking well father; the semester has been kind to your health.”
His father snorted at the attempted pleasantries. The old man hated that kind of talk, which was probably why his parents avoided each other like the very plague. Mother could speak of the weather for thirty m
inutes without pause. He’d timed her once.
“Very well.” He stormed out of the room, yelling as he went, “Daughter. Miss Long. You will attend me at once.”
The ladies scrambled to follow him out onto the street and the carriage door shut before Valentine had a chance to speak to Melanie again. They drove off immediately, turning into the heart of Brighton. He assumed his father would return tomorrow to launch a second assault.
George reached his side first. “Where have they gone?”
“The Old Ship, I expect,” he murmured quietly.
The Radleys joined him.
“He disapproves?” Julia asked in a tone that hinted she was worried.
“Of the shop, not the other.” He caught her fingers lightly, ignoring the surprise on his friends’ faces. He hadn’t told them about the shop as yet. “I did not have a chance to mention anything else.”
She clung to him a moment then let go, blushing furiously. “What will you do?”
“What I’d planned to.” He stepped back inside to collect his hat from Forbes. “Visit Mr. Pease and arrange our marriage.”
George glanced between them and slowly grinned. “Are congratulations in order?”
Valentine nodded. “Most assuredly. Julia has consented to be my wife.”
George slapped him on the back and then shook Julia’s hand. “Good. I couldn’t have borne any more long faces around here. While you see Pease, I’ll discover for certain where your father and sister are staying.”
“Thank you, George, but I don’t wish to trouble you.”
George shook his head stubbornly. “It’s no bother at all. I could use the exercise of a long walk this afternoon.”