Heaven And Hell novel Chapter 96

Lady Cutting stared at the handsome young man sitting across from her. The fellow was a brilliant, intelligent young man who'd graduated a year early from Oxford, and now he took care of his father's numerous businesses, in which Cole improved and surpassed tenfold. He also managed all the vast estates the Duke of Cynster and the Marquess of Havenhurst had. Most moved out of their palatial estates and had them turn into museums, but the Cuttings had the privilege to keep all their estates. It was bloody costly to keep up, but Cole loved the challenge.

Life hadn't been very good to him but he wasn't one to back down, that was clear. He was also too handsome for his own good, but there was cynicism behind those cold, calculating eyes of his, and that naturally plump mouth that was forever set in a grim line.

"I came to visit your father just a moment ago, and decided to see you, as well."

"Did he throw a bottle at you?" he deadpanned, fixing a cufflink on his sleeve in a bored fashion.

She raised an imperious brow that served her well over the years. "Of course not. If he did, I'd have poked his eye with my cane." To prove her point, she thumped her weapon on the plush carpet that lay over the hardwood floor.

Despite himself, Cole smiled faintly. But he didn't want to talk about his ex-alcoholic father. The man had been out of rehab for two months. Nothing familiar happened, like getting madly drunk, crying, shouting, and throwing bottles. Arthur Cutting promised that he was sober now, after three years in the rehabilitation centre in Switzerland. He kept his word to this day, but Cole didn't have time for a heart-to-heart with him. Maybe not ever.

Not anymore.

Cole didn't -- couldn't -- trust his father, no more than he could trust Davina Boselli not to bring forth a new lover or beg for money once she ran out, as well as embarrass the family.

He learned not to care, and dealt with everything in a cold, no-nonsense manner.

"What did you wish to talk to me about?" he asked again, slightly cooler this time.

A knock came on the door and a maid entered with the tea service. Lady Cutting pursed her lips, waiting for the maid to fix everything before leaving, then she spoke. "You'll be twenty-one in three months, Colton," she said casually, but Cole detected a slight edge to her brusque, gravelly voice that ought to scare him but didn't. "And you know our family tradition."

He sliced her with a cutting -- no pun intended -- stare. One ought to be careful with Cole, Lady C knew that. He was different than any of the Cutting men who were usually extremely glib, charming, roguish, and silver-tongued. He'd been hardened by the events that had taken over his family. If he were Frederick or Michael, she would have already barked at him; manipulated and terrified him. But he was different.

He'd become a hardened man at such a young age.

Keller Blakely was a beautiful girl but she and her husband annoyed him to no end with their nauseating public displays of affection. The two also joked about his impending engagement, so they kept pointing out ladies to him when they were around.

He wanted to throttle them both.

Good thing they resided in London (while he wasn't particularly fond of the city), because if they were close by and kept up their little matchmaking act, they might end up thrown over the fenny.

"Hehehe," Lady Cutting chuckled heartily, setting her teacup and saucer down on the small table between them. "Those two only want your happiness, my boy."

His periwinkle eyes levelled on her. "I'd rather be levelheaded and practical, than foolish and reckless all because of love." The latter word was said in a sneer.

"But you do realise that this family thrives on tradition. You have been given four years to think about your engagement and have your freedom, and now it's time to search the country for potential brides. Unless," the dowager put in, her eyebrows arching upward, "you prefer to look in a different continent?"