Chapter II

I may not particularly like my family; in fact, I hate them; but unfortunately, no matter how repulsive and loathsome I find them, we are related. And for our household, this is not something we can ignore. It is, regrettably, my duty - sworn on my very life from the moment I was conceived – to serve and support them in every venture, regardless of the consequences.

*****

After breakfast, Christian returned to his chambers to shower and dress - as was also usual in his routine. Donning the charcoal grey Armani suit, given to him by his mother, he checked his appearance in the full-length mirror by the window; a subconscious practice he partook every morning; and nodded to himself, still lost in his thoughts.

He was suddenly, and rather brusquely, broken from his reverie by a short, sharp, tap at his door. Before his utterance of ‘enter’ had even formed in the back of his throat, Winston curtly entered the room.

“Jameson is waiting with the town car by the south doors, Master Blake. It would not be proper to delay any further your meeting with your father.”

Christian toyed with the notion of ignoring the summons he had received from his father shortly after breakfast, before shaking his head slightly. “Please inform Jameson that I am on my way, Winston, and that I am merely gathering my papers.”

“Very good, Sir.” And Winston turned on his heel and primly left the room – closing the door shut with a resounding click.

Once assured Winston had indeed gone from the door, Christian went over to his writing desk and collected the documents he thought his father ought to see. Sliding them gently into his Mulberry case as though they were the originals of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, he snapped the case closed and walked out of his room, again glancing at the mirror.

‘Today is going to be painful’ He pondered to himself as he descended the grand staircase to the south entrance, passing servants who maintained an averted gaze (as was proper for their position), where Winston and Jameson stood waiting for him. Only Winston looked Christian in the eye as he passed.

“Shall I inform Cook and your family to expect you for dinner, Sir? And will Lord Blake be attending?” Winston asked in his usual grave tone.

“I should think I shall be home in time for dinner. As for the latter question, Winston, only my father knows the answer to that. I shall be sure to ask him.”

“Very good, Sir.”

The End

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