“I have meetings all day tomorrow,” he explained. “I won’t have the time.”
“Did you have meetings all day today as well? And the day before? You do not seem to have the time for anything at all.”
Joseph inclined his head to the side as he regarded her. For a moment, Catriona wondered if he could sense the true reason she said those words.
“I said it before, Catriona. My role demands my attention.”
“As does your daughter.”
His eyebrows twitched, as if itching to knit into a scowl. Whatever humor had lingered in his eyes before was completely gone. “Excuse me?”
Catriona steeled herself. She hadn’t meant to broach the topic like this. She’d hoped to speak with him when she knew exactly what she was going to say without him assuming that she was overstepping, but the words came out before she could stop them, and there was no taking them back now.
So she backtracked, taking it from another perspective. “Dorothea quite likes you, you know.”
“I would hope so, seeing that I am her father.”
Catriona huffed a mirthless laugh. “You know good and well that there are many who do not care for their parents—though that would be rather alarming for a girl her age. What I meant is that she idolizes you, and I’m sure she wishes that she could spend more time with you.”
Joseph put his book aside, getting to his feet. Catriona found herself admiring his long legs as he made his way over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of strong-smelling, amber liquid. She blinked, coming back to herself when he faced her once more.
“I thought I told you that you were not interfere with how I parent my child.”
“This is not an interference. This is a suggestion. I want to believe that you simply hadn’t noticed how lonely she is during the days, just as much as I want to believe that you would not wish that to be the case.”
His brows finally met in that scowl. “Is that what she told you?”
“She didn’t have to tell me. It is clear as day.”
Joseph drained his glass then set it down. He ran a hand down his face, clearly troubled, before he picked back up the glass and poured himself another.
Catriona wanted to believe his obvious disconcertment was because he didn’t like the thought of his daughter feelingneglected. She knew she should back off, that this was as good a time as ever, but she pushed on instead.
“Her favorite flower today is the tulip, by the way,” Catriona said softly. She waited for him to look at her before she continued. “I’m sure it will change tomorrow, and I’ll be sure to tell you what it is once I find out.”
“You don’t have to,” he pushed out.
“But I want to,” she countered easily. “Who knows? Perhaps one day her favorite flower will be the rose, like yours.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “I do not have a favorite flower. I do not care for them at all actually, but if I did, the rose certainly would not head the list.”
“Truly?” Catriona frowned. “Dorothea told me that that was your favorite flower. She was even drawing you a picture of one to gift to you. She said that you once had roses everywhere when she was younger, but you don’t any longer, and she thought you were simply too busy to enjoy them anymore.”
Joseph stiffened. Catriona nearly missed it. She certainly would have if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. But the moment his jaw tightened and his eyes widened a smidgen, she knew something was wrong.
Slowly, she got to her feet. A chill washed over her as she neared him, taking in that haunted look in his eyes. “Joseph?”
He blinked, and it was gone. As if nothing had happened. “I look forward to receiving the drawing then.”
She wasn’t convinced. Without thinking, she touched his arm, stepping closer than she should have. He didn’t pull away. He only stared at her as she stared at him.
“Where did you go just now?” she whispered.
He said nothing, staring at her with an unreadable expression. A part of her knew that she should step away and give him his space. This was overstepping that invisible line he had drawn between them the moment he’d proposed their marriage of convenience. But she couldn’t bring herself to move. And, foolishly enough, she felt as if he could not either.
But she should have known better than to think he would open up to her. The moment he stepped away, throwing up walls between them in the process, her hopes were crushed by the weight of reality.
“Tomorrow, we will commence our lesson,” he said.
