Faro remembered how he had paid for Vince's education after Lizzie died, saving and scrimping on a policeman's salary to send him to university. To be a doctor. Now, unless Vince achieved his ambition of becoming Queen's Physician, his long-dreamed-of ambition, he was unlikely to be able to afford his son's fees at Glenatholl.
Though Vince was delighted when his stepfather had been chosen to give the Founder's Day lecture, Faro, alas, did not share his enthusiasm. Regarding the event with growing dread, he would have welcomed a suitable excuse to refuse, but was unable to do so without sounding churlish, as well as wounding Vince's hopes for Jamie.
In truth his talk was at present only a few notes on the back of an envelope. He felt totally unable to put his thoughts down on paper and read them aloud and, more importantly, was unsure whether his choice of lecture subject would be compelling to the boys. 'Crime', yes, but 'In Our Society'? How could he hope to stimulate the interest or arouse the sympathy of such pupils for the appalling conditions of Edinburgh's poor and the crimes it nurtured? It would be a foreign field indeed for these sons of the rich and noble in their cushioned existence. However, he would tell them interesting anecdotes and hope that no one fell asleep, or had to be excused feeling sick.
'You'll have Arles Castle to look forward to after your talk, Stepfather. Perth should be looking marvellous if this weather holds and it must be - how many years since you last saw Sir Julian? Before he remarried, wasn't it? And there's now a son and heir. What a relief that must be for him after all those childless years.'
Sir Julian's first wife, to whom he had been devoted, had long been an invalid. Faro had been at her funeral four years ago.
'The break will do you a power of good,' Vince continued in his best doctor-patient voice, following Olivia and Baby into the house and clutching under his arm that instrument of his stepfather's nemesis, the daily newspaper.
Chapter 2
Idly watching his stepfather from the kitchen window while Olivia, having given Nanny the day off, prepared Miss Laurie for her afternoon feed, Vince considered the man and the small boy, their heads bent over the chessboard in a garden tinged with the reds, golds and purple of a perfect autumn day.
The still-handsome man, the Viking from Orkney, the tarnished fair hair becomingly streaked with silver. The strange long eyes, deep blue and piercing, slightly hooded like a bird of prey. The delicately hooked straight nose and full mouth.
Olivia came to his side and interpreted his thoughts as she often did. 'He doesn't look past fifty, does he?'
'Indeed he does not,' and Vince ruefully touched his own thinning hair, once a mass of thick curls like Jamie's.
'Put a helmet with horns on him and he'd still look as if he'd stepped off a Viking ship,' said Olivia.
'And strike terror into the hearts of all the womenfolk,' said her husband.
'Oh, I don't know about that, dearest,' was the smooth response, 'there should be worse fates than being carried off by such an attractive man.'
Vince chuckled. 'My darling, you read too many romances.'
Olivia sighed. 'I wish he'd read more romances.'
Her husband looked at her quickly. 'Marry again, is that what you have in mind? Perhaps this visit to Sir Julian will put him in the right frame of mind. After all, he's older than Stepfather.'
'Not marry again in general, I don't mean that. Just marry Imogen. She's so right for him, Vince.'
'It isn't for lack of trying on his part; reading between the lines I think it is what he most wants. Not that Imogen would make the perfect wife. She isn't a county type, like Lady Arles. And I can't see Imogen settling down to an Edinburgh social life of luncheons and dinners and calling cards. Now, can you? Admit it!'
Olivia sighed again and shook her head. ‘Not even remotely, dear. Still one of the wild lrish, l suppose.’
'And no bad thing,' said Vince loyally. 'Anyway, Stepfather and Imogen are happy as they are. What's wrong with that?'
'It's so - unconventional. I don't know how to introduce her-'
'Luckily there aren't too many occasions,' said Vince drily, refraining from adding what Olivia clearly knew only too well from her 'wild Irish' remark - that Imogen was still in danger under British law, classed as a wanted Fenian terrorist. Although it had never been proved, she was wise to travel incognito.
She showed wisdom in not wishing to become Faro's wife in the eyes of the law and, knowing Imogen, Vince decided that she remained his companion only - whatever happened when the bedroom door was closed - in Faro's own interests and for his good reputation's sake. Imogen Crowe might have reformed but Vince did not doubt that there were many who would have seized any opportunity to throw her into prison.
'You're quite right, dear, of course,' said Olivia. 'There are many problems they have to face. But relationships like theirs are a little, well - untidy, you must admit.'
Considering that the highest in the land, namely the Prince of Wales himself, had set a fashion in mistresses, Vince did not feel that his stepfather's reputation would sustain any lasting damage.
And as Olivia carried Baby up to the nursery to feed her, followed by Mrs Brook with the week's meals to discuss, his eyes drifted once more to that scene in the garden below. A moment he wished he could capture for eternity, one to take out and regard in wonder over the coming years.
He shivered, his normally practical soul
