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Thomas has it all: nobility, money, the girl, and a position waiting for him at the family business. But when he thinks about the life ahead of him, he can't breathe. So he takes a gap year backpacking.
Nadia...
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London, England — May.
"A gap year! Over my dead — " As he choked, the whites of Lord Watermain's eyes started to turn pink.
Across the table, Thomas leapt to his feet, cursing.
Before he could do anything, his mother pushed her husband forward and started pounding her palm between his shoulder blades. There was a hacking sound, and a blob of steak tartar flew through the air — right past Thomas' head.
Thomas dropped onto his chair, mindful of the concerned glances from other tables. He grabbed his napkin and shoved it into his lap, gripping it like grim death.
His mother passed a glass of water to her husband who drained it, then glared at his son.
Thomas held his father's gaze, heart beating. "Yes, Father," he said through his teeth. "I want to go backpacking."
"Backpacking? What a notion," said his mother, adjusting her silk blouse. "Sweetheart, we go abroad at least twice a year."
Luxury resorts don't count, Mother, he thought, not daring to say the words. She put a lot of time and consideration into their vacations.
The voices about returned to a murmur, the restaurant clientele thankfully focused on their meals, and notes resumed from a grand piano. A delicate cough announced a waiter, dressed in a crisp black-and-white uniform. Lady Watermain nodded at the man, and he began moving around the table, refilling their glasses, the tinkling sound ringing between them.
Thomas glanced around the room. Shards of afternoon light cut through high windows while the row of chandeliers cast shadows across marble, polished wood and burnished gold. He inhaled the scents of salty broth and garlic from the fusion of hearty British dishes and French cuisine. On a sigh, he brought his attention to his parents. His mother's hand hadn't returned to her knife. If he were a betting man, he would have wagered that it was squeezing his father's right thigh — tightly.
The waiter retreated to other duties, and his father continued. "You'll damned well sit for the Bar and continue at Watermain & Sons." He took another sip of his water and slammed the glass down. "That's what you'll do!"
Thomas closed his eyes, took a breath and opened them again. For once, he felt grateful for his barrister's training. Now at least, he could look someone in the eye and contradict them.
"I mean what I say."
The pink in Lord Watermain's eyes converged. His irises glowed. Blue was supposed to be a cool, calm colour. The pair of eyes facing Thomas were ready to hiss and bubble. They were aquamarine lava.
Lady Watermain turned to Thomas with a serene expression, her soft brown eyes sparkling. "What your father is trying to say is ..." She looked briefly at her husband. "Is that this is an important time in your life. You have a valuable opportunity here, and your father is so proud of —"
