Page 86 of Too Wanton to Wed
He stabbed the blades of the shears into the ground one more time for good measure. Of course he wasn’t happy. He was an imbecile who’d lived a lie for so many years that he’d all but forgotten it was a lie. Violet could not have known he’d only braved the sun twice in the past decade: once for his daughter, and once for her. Above all, she couldn’t possibly have known that he trusted her more than he even trusted himself. He trusted her with his daughter. He trusted her with his heart.
And why could she not have known any of these splendid facts? He yanked the shears out of the dirt and sprang to his feet. She couldn’t have known because he, master of shadows, had not told her in time.
He pushed his way back into the abbey. Dawn had only just broken, and already he’d ruined his life. He handed the gardening shears to Roper. No time to ring for hot water or bother knotting a new cravat. Alistair had to get to the dining room before Violet sequestered herself in the prayer room with Lily for a nice long day of doing sums and ignoring Alistair.
But she didn’t come.
He hadn’t missed her; the servants hadn’t seen her. So he waited and he waited until it was obvious even to him that she’d rather spend the next week fasting than meet eyes with him over the breakfast table.
He pulled out his fob. Still an hour yet before Violet was due to start lessons. Lily was likely only now considering getting out of bed. Violet would still be in her bedchamber. Not eating. And not speaking to him.
But perhaps he could convince her to listen.
Less than five minutes later, he was knocking upon her chamber door. No answer. No surprise. He knocked again anyway. Not because he thought she might answer, but because he deserved the rejection. He was the one who had wished to go unnoticed. He ought to take more care what he wished for.
Right now, all he wanted was to apologize. To explain. To make sure she was all right.
He stood there in silence for a long time, his forehead resting against door. Wishing he had done a thousand things differently. The road to hell truly was paved with the best of intentions.
Eventually, he forced himself to abandon his post outside her door. She would not come out if she thought a lion lay in wait. Perhaps she wasn’t even inside. It would not be the first time she’d sequestered herself in with Lily. His daughter was the one person Violet would never ignore.
He made his way through the catacombs. Carefully, he eased open the door to the sanctuary. A pair of high-set sconces provided just enough gently flickering candlelight to guide his way to the heavily draped four-poster bed in the center of the room. Approaching as quietly as he could, he edged the heavy velvet tester to one side and gazed upon his daughter’s sweet face.
Her eyes were closed, but she was not asleep. The slight flinch at the soft rustle of the curtain had given lie to the pretense. He smiled at the familiar ritual. Lily was never eager to get out of bed.
“Good morning, sweetling.” He bent forward and pressed a kiss to her smooth forehead. “I know it’s early. I just wanted to see your face.”
At first, she did not respond. Just as he reached upward to open the bedcurtains, his daughter’s small voice slid forth from the shadows.
“Don’t bother coming back. If I can’t have Miss Smythe, I certainly don’t want you. It’s your fault she left us. If you loved her half as much as I do, she wouldn’t have gone.”
“Idolove her too,” he bit out in vexation before the rest of Lily’s meaning chilled his soul like a winter frost. Heart racing, he swept the bed curtains back open. “What do you mean,leftus?”
“She told me goodbye.” Eyes red and puffy, Lily propped herself up on thin elbows to glare at her father. “She loves me. It’s your fault she left. It’s always your fault. I hate you. You make everyone who loves me leave forever.”
He froze on unsteady limbs and wordlessly returned his daughter’s stare.
“You’re a terrible papa,” she said, her voice cracking on the final word. Purposefully, she turned her back to him and hiked up her bed linen to hide beneath. “I hope you’re sorry. I hope it hurts you even more than it hurts me.”
It was the sturdiness of the canopy posts, and not the strength of his own limbs, that kept him on his feet.
“Go away,” his daughter whispered brokenly. “It’s not you I want.”
Of course not. Who would? He nodded mutely and allowed the thick curtain to fall back down between them. Blindly, disjointedly, he managed to fumble his way out of the sanctuary and through the catacombs. Once he gained the other side, however, he stood unmoving in the empty corridor, as if he were a splinter of wood set adrift in the empty ocean without even a breeze to guide his way.
He was still bobbing rudderlessly in the current when a strong hand latched onto his arm.
“Master?” Roper’s concerned face swam into focus. “Are you all right?”
“Marvelous. Violet left me and Lily hates me. I’m back where I started.” Alistair ran a hand through his hair. “Nowhere.”
“Sheleft?”The lines in Roper’s horrified face deepened. “I thought... I am so sorry, master.”
“I lied to her,” Alistair mumbled, berating himself for not having taken her into his confidence sooner. So she preferred to cast her lot anywhere but with the likes of him. He couldn’t blame her.
“To be fair,” Roper said hesitantly, “you lied to everyone.”
Alistair slumped against the wall. “I am an unmitigated pillock.”
