A Secret Ambition

XIX

Only a fool made the same mistake twice.

Callan made the decision then to leave. He would find his way out by following the permeating smell of poverty back to his office. As he stood up from the sofa and checked for stains, it was then that he noticed a portrait that hung above the grand fireplace.

He immediately recognised the eejit. Prince Whatshisname was staring at him with a confident gaze, though he looked about a decade younger than the man who had called upon Callan. Around him, Callan noticed, was his family. He was painted standing beside a woman, and their four children were huddled around them.

Callan had never considered the notion that the eejit had a wife or had children. They were young in the portrait. Three girls and a boy. The two elder girls were standing either side of their parents, while the younger girl and boy were in front. The mother had her arm around the eldest girl, while the eejit had his arm around the second. They were like their mother, he observed. Dark hair, fair skinned, blue ... such blue eyes.

They had their mother's eyes, it seemed.

But they weren't the prettiest blue eyes that Callan had ever seen.

"Goddammit, Lily," Callan murmured under his breath as he thought about the owner of those eyes. "I might well take you up on that offer to burn this house to the ground. This'll be your birthday gift."

Callan gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to, as much as every part of his body was screaming to leave, he wouldn't. He would hear the eejit out, and he would know if the man was having Callan on. He wouldn't be fooled again.

The door to the fancy room then suddenly opened, and the servant who had let Callan into the house returned, though this time he straightened his posture as announced, "The Duke of Ashwood."

Callan wanted to dive out of the window by the pianoforte. What was he doing meeting with someone who needed a servant to shout his name before he entered a room?

But the eejit then entered the room with a smile that seemed to show that he was marvellously happy to see Callan waiting for him.

"Mr McCarthy, I am so pleased you have come. I do apologise for the delay and I hope you have not been waiting long. My family are having a little celebration for my daughter's birthday."

The duke's tone was so familiar, and Callan was quite taken aback. It was like he was receiving an old friend, and not a man who had cursed him out of his office a short time ago. 

"We'll have tea, thank you, Thomas. And some sandwiches, and whatever biscuits are laying about."

"Certainly, Your Grace." The servant bowed his head and departed the room, closing the door behind him.

"Do they bring you whatever you ask for?" Callan found himself asking without thinking.

"Generally," replied the duke.

I'll have a bowl of gold bars for dinner, please.

Stewed ten pound bank notes, delicious.

Callan couldn't help the bitter and facetious thoughts that entered his head. As much as he couldn't believe that this man was genuine, Callan had enough decorum to not insult him in his own house. If they were to step outside, however ...

"Did you say it was your daughter's birthday?" Callan suddenly recalled. "I can come back ..." He probably wouldn't.

But the duke shook his head. "No, it is quite alright. The festivities can continue without me for a little while. My mother quite commands a room. They shan't miss me." He chuckled to himself.