“And yet,” Thomas continued, “she never hated you. Not truly. She’s angry—bitterly so—and she has every right to be.She was hurt so deeply it near hollowed her out. But hate? No. Violet doesn’t waste her heart on that.”
William closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, Thomas watched him with a quiet, tired recognition.
“She’s fought hard to give Lily a steady, peaceful life, and I won’t pretend I want that disrupted. But I know my daughter. And the affection she once bore you is not the kind that fades easily.”
William’s chest tightened painfully. “She does not want me near.”
“Not with her mouth,” Thomas said. “She’s too proud for that. Too hurt.”
Thomas seemed to consider his next words.
“But her heart has never been as silent as her tongue.”
Thomas’s voice gentled.
“You said you intend to stay,” he said. “You intend to try?”
William nodded. “Yes. I am determined to earn back all that I squandered—her trust, her friendship, her regard… and, if she can bear to give it, her heart. And the right to stand beside her once more.”
A short, startled laugh escaped Thomas—disbelieving, but not unkind.
“Well,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “if you mean to start making amends, there’s no shortage of work to begin with. Violet’s fence has been leaning since last winter, and I was planning to set it right soon—along with the bakery’s leaking roof and Mrs. Smith’s broken gate.”
William said nothing, unsure where Thomas was going with this sudden shift.
For the first time, something softened in the older man’s expression.
“The people here… they stood by my daughter when she arrived. Pregnant, alone, and frightened out of her wits.”
Thomas’s voice dropped, threaded with pain.
“They made certain she had care before Lily came, and help after.”
He exhaled, grief and gratitude threading together.
“I thank God she had them when I was miles away—of no use to her, or to my granddaughter.”
He held William’s eyes for a long, steady moment.
“I owe them. Edith owes them. And if you’re serious about atonement…”
Thomas stepped closer to him and rested a firm hand on his shoulder.
“…then you owe them too.”
A flush rose on his neck. “I… can attempt repairs. If someone shows me how.”
“Oh, I’ll show you,” Thomas said dryly. “When we go into the village, I’ll introduce you properly—as Mr. William Ashford, a distant cousin of Lady Ashford. Folk already know she arranged for Mrs. Grey’s cottage, so they’ll think nothing of you being asked to look in on her while you’re visiting Lord Hamilton. Clean, simple, and it keeps Violet clear of talk.”
William bowed his head, deeply grateful. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” the older man grunted. “If you want to prove yourself to my daughter, you’ll have to sweat for it, endure her temper, and accept the possibility she may never forgive you.”
William answered steadily.
“If all I’m permitted is to watch over her and Lily from a distance, quietly, that will still be more than I deserve.”
