Page 5 of Innocent Salvation

“Your lunch is on your desk, Judge.”

“Thank you, Margaret.”

Margaret had been with him for five years and knew all his habits and quirks. She was in her late fifties, although he wasn’t entirely sure of her age, and had two grown sons who ran their own architectural firm.

“Here are your messages.”

Margaret knew he didn’t like his messages being called out to him like he was a child who couldn’t read, so she always left them on his desk to read. For a judge, he wasn’t a people person, or perhaps because of it. He’d seen the very worst of humankind and from his experience, especially of late, less and less of the kindness.

His chest ached as he thought of Lucinda, at the loss of someone with so much spirit, so much heart, and the world to live for. He’d never forgive himself for not seeing her pain, for not being aware of just how ill she was. He’d failed her the same way their parents had, and he’d take that guilt to the grave.

The only thing he could do now was make it up to her daughter, the niece he was trying to raise with no clue how to do it. If people were an enigma to him, children were the equivalent of aliens, and his four-year-old niece Fleur was the queen of them.

He picked up the picture on his desk of his sister and niece from last Christmas when they’d gone skiing in France and smiled. His money and wealth allowed him to give the few people he cared for everything he could. Lucinda had never been about the money they’d inherited from the family holdings and business ventures. She’d been a free spirit, more at home in her long, flowy skirts painting in the meadow with the sun on her face.

Now all that was gone, and he was left to pick up the pieces after the man who was meant to love her broke her in a way she could never heal from.

Bitterness and hate twisted in his gut for the weak, pathetic man who swanned around after his famous parent, sucking up all the praise and acclaim he could leech from her. He was nothing but a parasite and so was the witch who’d spawned him. They’d never get their filthy hands on Fleur though, if it was the last thing he did. He’d break every oath and law he’d ever uttered to keep that little girl safe.

Picking up the phone, he dialled his home and waited for it to pick up.

“Alexander residence.”

“It’s me. Put Fleur on the phone.”

Sebastian never wasted time on pleasantries. They were his staff, not his friends, and he paid them all a hefty salary to do the job. He had two people he considered friends, and they were Judd Lafferty and Oliver Jones, his roommates from Eton and his best friends. They’d been there for him at every milestone event in his life and he trusted them and only them.

“Uncy Seb.”

An involuntary smile tugged at his lips at the sound of her butchering the word uncle. “Hello, Fleur, how are you today?”

“I bored. Miss Moss is making me do letters again.”

The way she dragged out the words as if this was the height of torture made him smile. He was determined she’d get the best education money could buy. “But letters are good. They make all the fun words you like to say.”

“Like what?”

“Spaghetti.”

“I like sgabetti. Can we have sgabetti for dinner tonight?”

“Ask Mrs Lewis if she’ll make it for you. I might be late tonight.”

“But you promised we’d have a tea party.”

Damn it, he had too. He hated to let her down, but the judiciary process wasn’t likely to accept a child’s tea party as a reason to end the day early unless it fell at a crucial point.

“I’m sorry, Fleur, but I’ll make it up to you. How about we go to the Zoo this weekend?”

“You promise?”

“On my honour.”

The phone clattered and he could hear her running toward Mrs Lewis, who was his housekeeper and had been since his parents were alive, yelling in excitement about elephants.

Sebastian smiled to himself once more and hung up the phone. That little girl was the most important person in his life, and he loved her and would protect her from everyone and anything in a way he hadn’t managed with his sister.

Noticing he had very little time left, Sebastian wolfed his lunch of turkey salad on wholegrain bread down, taking care not to get it on his robes. He read his messages deciding which were important and which could wait and made a note for Margaret.