"That is not the point."
"What is the point, then?"
Daniel was silent for a moment, watching Rosanne move through the figures of the dance. Mr. Fielding was gazing at her with an expression of transparent admiration, and Rosanne, Lillian noted with interest, was not looking away.
"The point," Daniel said quietly, "is that I spent so many years failing her. Hiding in my study while she struggled alone. Letting my own fears prevent me from being the brother she needed." He paused. "I cannot undo those years. But I can try to ensure that whatever comes next, whoever she chooses, is worthy of her."
Lillian felt her heart clench with the familiar ache of loving him—this complicated, difficult, impossibly dear man who still did not entirely believe he deserved happiness.
"You did not fail her," she said. "You were struggling too. You were both children trying to survive the aftermath of something you did not create and could not control."
"That does not excuse..."
"It does not excuse, but it explains. And Rosanne understands that. She has told me so, more than once." Lillian moved closer, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. "She does not blame you, Daniel. She never has. She only wanted you to stop hiding from her; and you have. You are here, at a ball you would once have avoided at any cost, watching her dance with young men in acceptably-coloured waistcoats. That is not failure. That is love."
Daniel looked at her, and something in his expression shifted. The guarded tension eased, replaced by the vulnerability he had learned to show her in private.
"I still do not like yellow waistcoats," he said.
"No one is asking you to like them. Merely to refrain from glaring at their wearers."
"I make no promises."
The dance ended, and they watched as Mr. Fielding escorted Rosanne back to her chaperone; a sensible widow whom Lillian had helped select for precisely this purpose. The young man bowed with evident reluctance to depart, and Rosanne's smile as she watched him go was soft and private and full of possibility.
"She likes him," Daniel observed, his tone suggesting this was a development of considerable concern.
"She does. Is that so terrible?"
"It is not terrible. It is merely... rapid. They have known each other for three weeks."
"Some people fall in love quickly. It is not a character flaw."
"I did not fall in love quickly. It took me months of stubborn resistance and a considerable amount of denial."
"Yes, and that approach served you so well." Lillian smiled up at him. "Perhaps your sister has learned from your mistakes."
"Perhaps." Daniel's gaze returned to Rosanne, who was now deep in conversation with her chaperone—likely receiving an assessment of Mr. Fielding’s suitability. "Or perhaps I should speak with her. Offer some... guidance."
"No."
"No?"
"Absolutely not. You will not interfere, Daniel. You will not offer guidance, or warnings, or brotherly wisdom. You will allow your sister to navigate her own courtship at her own pace, making her own decisions."
"But..."
"Those are the terms." Lillian fixed him with a steady look. "Rosanne has spent her entire life being managed by your parents, by society, by her own fears. She has finally found her footing. She deserves the chance to see where it leads without her brother looming in the background, cataloguing the waistcoat choices of every man who looks at her."
Daniel was silent for a long moment. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep within him: "You are right. Of course you are right. You are always right."
"I am glad you have finally noticed."
"I noticed within a week of meeting you. I simply chose not to acknowledge it because it was extremely inconvenient."
Lillian laughed, and she saw his expression lighten in response—the pleasure he took in making her laugh, even now, even after a year of marriage.
"Dance with me," he said.
