Page 24 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Well then. Let the man have his say and move on with his life. Cy would not be deterred.

“I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”

Cy was determined not to show his impatience. Who was this man to interject his opinions on Cy’s choices about his future? The man had no inkling of Cy’s now defunct ideas on pursuing his daughter, so what could it matter to him? Cy gave a nod. “Would you mind if we walked? I’m after a bite to eat before I head home.”

“Lead the way. Perhaps you’ll allow me to join you.”

Cy’s hands clenched in his pockets. “If you like.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Mr. Whittemore cleared his throat. “How did your interview go?”

“I believe it went very well.”

“Did Cornell offer you the position?”

Cy furrowed his brow. “Not yet,” he said carefully. “They’ve a few more candidates to interview.” He paused in his step under the man’s continued scrutiny. “Pardon my candor, but why don’t you just ask me the real question?”

Mr. Whittemore stopped walking and faced him. “What question?”

“Why a gentleman-heir to a long-standing estate would seek employment.”

“That is none of my business.”

“Forgive me, sir, but what part of any of thisisyour business?”

“I’ll get to that. What is the salary?”

He shook his head, eyeing Mr. Whittemore. As intrigued as he was by his interest, this conversation was already making Cyril anxious to move along. He widened his stance. “While I appreciate your concern—”

“I’ll triple it.”

“Beg pardon?” At that moment, the sky broke open to a steady and very wet rain.

Mr. Whittemore opened his umbrella, raising it and his voice over the sound of the downpour. “Where is this pub?”

He gestured haphazardly. “Next street over. I’m sorry. You’ll triple what?”

Mr. Whittemore leaned toward Cy as he began to move past him. “Whatever Cornell is offering you.”

Cy’s feet wouldn’t budge, and Mr. Whittemore turned with his umbrella and what looked to be a gleam in his eye. “I thought you said you were hungry.”

It occurred to Cy that Mr. Whittemore was likely an excellentfly fisherman. Because Cy felt like a trout to the plat … plat … of Mr. Whittemore’s mayfly on the surface of the lake. And, blast it, Cy was ready to bite.

“What is it you’re after?” he asked.

Mr. Whittemore chuckled gruffly. He nodded, as if conceding that it was time to cut to the chase. His eyes, the color of his daughter’s, focused beneath his derby and through the rain. “I have a business proposition, my boy. That is all.” He motioned up the street. “Come. Lunch is on me.”

Y

Four hours later, Cy found himself at the threshold of Kinthwaite Park, awaiting a response to his knock. He’d been invited to dinner after a bewildering lunch and dialogue with Mr. Whittemore. His head still spun. He couldn’t even bring himself to tell his mother the truth, let alone his curious brothers. Not so soon after the harrowing news of their father’s diagnosis that morning. He might’ve confided in Ruby, but she was out, and Mother didn’t expect her home for dinner. He hoped that meant Violet, too, would not be expected home at Kinthwaite, as their circle of friends usually made an evening of it if they were still in company at this hour.

He’d told his family he was meeting an old professor he’d run into while at the bank since he hadn’t told them he’d been to the college seeking a position. He’d named Professor Cornell—at least that was true—and said the invitation could not be denied, leaving the house with the weight of his guilt as quickly as he could. He would tell them all after this evening. Hopefully, they would forgive him. And not just of the lies.

The door opened and Cy handed the young doorman hiscard. After divesting himself of his hat, driving gloves, and coat, he straightened his suit coat. Smoothing his hair, more to calm his nerves than fix it, he followed a footman to the open door of the drawing room, where he was announced.

Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore turned as one at his entrance. Mrs. Whittemore smiled broadly as she approached, holding out both hands to grasp his.

“Young Mr. Burke, how lovely to see you. It has been ages. When Mr. Whittemore told me he’d seen you at the college and had invited you to dine with us, I couldn’t have been more surprised. A happy circumstance, to be sure.”