However, it was the heavy weight of Margaret’s nearly-silent censure that tore at her heart.
Her sister was trying to remain calm, but it was a testament to Margaret’s frustration that she did not attempt to temper her husband’s anger.
As for herself, Lottie feared her soul would quite literally rend in two.
Just as with Theo years ago, she was torn between her love for family and her love for a man.
She stared at Margaret’s bent head. Her sister clenched her fist tightly, as if she could hold on to her son’s future simply by willing it so.
How could Lottie do anything to deliberately hurt Margaret and Freddie? How could she be so selfish?
And yet . . .
A memory of Alex rose from the night before. The flash of panic in his eyes before she fainted, his arms already reaching for her.
And then waking up a few minutes later, her eyes slowly opening to see his beloved head bent over hers, his strong arm banded around her, cradling her to his chest.
She had nearly burst into tears.
The sheerreliefof being with him again.
She wished to remain in his arms forever.
With Theo, the decision had been so obvious. How could she forsake her family for Theo? The very idea was laughable.
How very foolish she had been then. To assume that the weak emotion she felt for Theo was true love.
No. She had known nothing then of this sort of love. The romantic love that poets proclaimed and lyricists sang.
Alex hummed in her blood. How was she to face a life without him?
As Frank launched into a tirade about how Lottieshouldhave behaved, she couldn’t help but meet Grandmère’s gaze.
Her grandmother did not seem upset. If anything, she appeared pensive . . . though with Grandmère’s eyebrows, it was always difficult to say with any certainty.
An hour later, Grandmère rapped on Lottie’s bedroom door.
Lottie had been banished to her bedchamber, like a recalcitrant child. Frank and Ferndown were going to consult on a plan to somehow remedy this situation.
“How fare you,ma petite?” Grandmère asked, sitting on Lottie’s bed and running a hand over her hair.
Lottie sat up, wiping tears.
“I have been better, Grandmère,” she answered truthfully. “I never expected to be in this place. To be the one who caused a rift within our family.”
“Ah.” Grandmère studied her, those censorious eyebrows drawn down. “Gabriel was correct all those years ago to paint you as a collie.”
“Was he though?”
“The most loyal of breeds. That has been you,ma puce.”
“I do not feel particularly loyal at the moment, Grandmère.” Lottie pulled her legs up and rested her cheek on her knees. “I have hurt Margaret and threatened Freddie’s future and jeopardized their financial stability. I have been disloyal to Papa’s memory.”
“Mmmm. I fear you have a difficult choice before you.”
“Choice?”
“Oui.It happens from time to time in life.Une crise, as we French say. A crisis point where you must choose between two impossible things. You love our Freddie and wish to see his future settled. You love Margaret and wish to remain loyal to her.”
