‘Good. On that respect I’ll say no more, after you have made equal recompense to my guests.’ If Luke was not so intent on his own miseries, he would have gleaned his father had some of his own, as he added tightly, ‘Including Clem Trenchard.’

Luke nodded his assent and gazed glumly out of the window, letting his worn-out eyes roam over the panoramic view of the grounds, where a glasshouse for exotic plants and a bowling green had been built in his absence. Always his father planned and improved, leaving less that he might do.

Oliver waited until he looked at him again. ‘I take it I was included in your spleen just now.’

‘Of course not.’ But he could not lie. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

Oliver employed the softest voice of his life. ‘I understand.’

‘You do?’

‘You’re my son, Luke. I’ve foolishly allowed you too much sway all your life and have turned a blind eye to your recklessness, but I’ve always known your mind, and all these years I’ve been hoping you’d purge your sense of despair. I should have spoken to you long before this, I’ve failed you and for that I apologize. I know you’re as desperately unhappy now as when you went away. That you’ve always felt jealous of Kane and I, perhaps even feel you hate us because we’re able to do the things that require two good arms. That you feel you have no challenge of your own.’ Oliver paused, greatly saddened. ‘Perhaps even that you have no future to invest in?’

Since his return, Luke had planned to hurl all this and more at his father, but his father’s astuteness astounded him. He stumbled for words to describe his desperation but none would come, so he confessed his soul. ‘I wish I was dead.’ Oliver’s eyes misted at the corners. The depths of Luke’s despair meant he had lost the emotion to weep for himself.

‘I’ve realized that too. So, have you a notion what to do about it? Throw yourself off Pengarron Point? Drink yourself to death?’

‘I might, I really don’t care.’

‘Have you never had a dream, Luke? Isn’t there something you’d really like to do?’

‘Yes, I suppose.’ His voice was flat, defeated.

‘Well, that’s good. What is it?’

‘You wouldn’t like it.’

‘Try me.’

‘I want to get away from here, do something of my own.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with that. Every man wants to make his mark on the world.’

‘You wouldn’t object if I didn’t live here? I thought it was expected of me to help manage the estate until I come into it one day.’