“Swimming in a controlled environment is not the same as being fully clothed in a lake!” His voice rose with each word, echoing across the water. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t been here? If none of us had been here?”
She could have drowned. My baby girl could have drowned because her sister filled her head with silly notions about daring adventures.
“Papa, please—” Leah tried to intervene.
“No!” He whirled on her, his patience finally snapping completely. “There is no excuse for this behavior. None whatsoever. You are young ladies, not wild creatures raised in the forest!”
All three girls stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. He realized he was shouting—actually shouting at his daughters, something he’d sworn he’d never do.
Just like my father used to shout at me.
The thought hit him hard, draining the anger from his system as quickly as it had come. But the damage was done. Melanie was crying now, silent tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Leah looked as though she wanted to disappear into the ground. And Rosalie…
Rosalie looked exactly like her mother had when cornered—defiant, rebellious, and utterly unreachable.
“We were just having fun,” she said quietly, but there was steel beneath the words. “I’m sorry Melanie fell, but we weren’t doing anything truly dangerous. You’re overreacting.”
Overreacting?
“Overreacting?” he stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to the dangerous whisper that made grown men nervous. “Your sister nearly drowned, and you think I’m overreacting?”
“She’s fine,” Rosalie shot back, her own temper flaring to match his. “A little water never killed anyone.”
“A little water has killed plenty of people!” The words exploded from him with volcanic force. “Your mother?—”
He stopped himself just in time, but not before he saw the stricken look that crossed Rosalie’s face.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, broken only by Melanie’s quiet sniffling and the gentle lapping of water against the shore.
“Our mother, what?” Rosalie asked, finally, her voice barely audible.
Hugo closed his eyes, fighting for control. He’d spent years avoiding this conversation, years trying to shield his daughters from the darker aspects of Caroline’s nature, but perhaps it was time they understood.
“Your mother took risks,” he said quietly. “Foolish, unnecessary risks that she thought made her interesting or daring. She never considered the consequences until it was too late.”
Like the night she died. Consumption had weakened her, but it was her own reckless attempt to prove she was still beautiful and desirable that killed her.
“We’re not Mother,” Rosalie said fiercely. “We’re not weak or sickly or?—”
“No, you’re not,” Hugo agreed. “You’re strong and intelligent and capable of great things. Which is exactly why I won’t standby and watch you throw your lives away on meaningless stunts designed to prove how brave you are.”
He looked at each of them in turn—Melanie, still shivering in her wet nightgown; Leah, clutching her arms around herself protectively; Rosalie, her jaw set in stubborn lines that promised future battles.
They need guidance. Real guidance from someone who understands what it means to be a young woman in this world.
“Inside. All of you,” he said wearily. “Get into dry clothes and meet me in the morning room in an hour. We need to discuss your behavior and the consequences thereof.”
“Papa—” Rosalie started.
“One hour,” he repeated firmly. “And Rosalie? We’ll be having a private conversation as well. About responsibility and the example you’re setting for your sisters.”
She opened her mouth as though to argue then seemed to think better of it. With a frustrated huff, she gathered her wet skirts and stalked toward the house, Leah trailing behind her like a remorseful shadow.
Hugo bent down to Melanie’s level, his anger melting away as he looked at her tear-stained face.
“Are you truly all right, sweetheart?” he asked gently, brushing a damp curl back from her forehead.
