“He...” His voice came out hoarse, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Who hits who?”
Bryony’s hazel eyes filled with something that made his stomach churn. “Her father. He hits Rosalind.”
He stared at his sister-in-law, the words refusing to take shape in his mind, refusing to make sense. Surely he’d misheard; surely he was missing something.
Preston Caldwell. Owner of the Alaska Commercial Company. He wasn’t a kind man, but surely someone in such a prominent position knew better than to strike his own daughter.
Yet this was the man who was selling her off to Vandermeer like livestock, no doubt in exchange for some sort of business deal that was sure to benefit both parties.
This was the man who had forced her onto the library committee just so the library would bear his name.
The man who kept her controlled, carefully watched, and perfectly in line at all times.
Yuri’s pulse thundered in his ears as the pieces fell into place. “I asked her to come with me to San Francisco. To leave Sitka. I didn’t even know he was hitting her, and I told her I could help her get away. She refused.”
Bryony rested a hand on his arm. “I offered to help her get away as well, before Thanksgiving, when I first saw a bruise on her cheek.”
“She said no then too?”
Bryony nodded. “I leave notes for her from time to time through our mutual friend Millicent, who passes them on, and I always make the same offer.”
“And she always refuses.”
He was going to be sick. Right there. In front of both Bryony and Mikhail. He sucked in a breath, trying to calm the churning in his stomach.
It didn’t work. He turned away from Bryony just in time to empty the contents of his stomach on the base of the wood stump rather than all over her feet.
Mikhail wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
He didn’t want to go inside. He wanted to march straight up to Preston Caldwell’s house and demand he hand over his daughter.
Which the man would never do. Not in a thousand years.
“Why won’t she leave?” Yuri gripped the front of Mikhail’s shirt. “Why won’t she do something to get away? Why won’t she fight back?”
“I think it’s because she doesn’t believe she can get away, not really,” Bryony said. “Her father has so many resources, and she’s worried fighting him will only make things worse.”
He hung his head. She’d told him as much the night of Mikhail’s wedding. He was a fool for not putting things together sooner.
“Do you think...”—He swallowed, then turned his gaze to Mikhail—“This Vandermeer character... How well do you know him? He doesn’t seem like the type to treat Rosalind right either.”
Mikhail dropped his arm from around Yuri’s shoulders. “Alexei invested some money with him a few years ago, then stopped after it became apparent what kind of man he is.”
“And what kind of man is that?” Yuri asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“He seems to be a good enough businessman. But...” Mikhail grimaced.
“But what?”
“He’s a little too fond of drinking, and he’s got a reputation for being violent when drunk. He got into a fight in one of the bars when he was here last spring and broke the owner’s nose. Marshal Hibbs got called in, but no charges were filed. You know how money has a way of keeping things quiet.”
“And Rosalind’s supposed to marry him?” Yuri’s breath turned shallow. “She’s supposed to leave Sitka and live with a man like that? No. I won’t allow it.” He made a slashing motion with his hand. “There has to be something we can do.”
He owed it to God to find a way to help. It was his duty as a Christian.
“We’ve offered to help her leave multiple times.” Bryony raised her hands, palms open, then let them drop back to her sides. “There’s nothing else we can do unless she takes us up on it.”
He wanted to retch all over again, never mind his stomach was empty. “What if she marries him, and we never see her again? What if...” His voice caught. “What if he’s violent with her like her father is? What if... What if she never gets away?”
