He bites at his lip. He just has to do it, be brave. He’s learning to fight for things; this should be one of them.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wincing as it comes out high and a little cracked.
Beth looks up, letting her book slowly slip down to rest on the table. “Beg pardon?”
James picks up his napkin to wipe his suddenly sweating palms. “I need to apologize on behalf of my deplorable family. For my uncle, and my stepfather, and the callous cruelty with which they treated you and your mother,” he rushes out.
“Oh,” she says, looking as shocked as he felt when he found out all the ways his own silence had punished Beth and her mother.
“And I must apologize too for my own inaction. Had I asked more questions, or taken more initiative, I might have saved you the pain and humiliation of being sent from your home, even if you have managed to end up in a better place.”
Beth slowly closes her book, considering James as he sits there, hoping his apology alone can suffice. She and Lady Havenfort will never receive what they’re due from his stepfather, but then again, that’s not his stepfather’s place. James is Viscount Demeroven. It’s up to him to make this right.
“If there is anything I can do now that I have my title, and the Demeroven fortune, anything at all, please tell me. As soon as I came into the title, I should have made it right. But I was cowardly and took my terrible stepfather’s words as truth, instead of coming to you and your mother. It was wrong, and I want to make amends.”
“James,” Beth says, her voice soft and a little hoarse.
“I want to make this right,” he insists, feeling an urgency and a simultaneous overwhelming relief. He’s said what needed to be said, and now he can do what must be done.
Beth stands and James feels that relief flickering in his chest. He watches Beth walk around the table and tries to keep hisback straight as she approaches his chair. Beth leans down and takes him by the shoulders, guiding him up so she can wrap her arms around him. James hesitates, and then hugs back, feeling like a giant weight has just come off his shoulders.
Beth pulls back, holding his biceps. She smiles, her eyes shiny. “I cannot tell you what it means to me to have what happened acknowledged.”
“I could do more,” he insists, shifting to take her hands. “Please. Let me make this right.”
Beth shakes her head. “I don’t blame you for what your stepfather did to us, nor what my father did to us. That isn’t your burden to bear.”
“But it is mine to make right,” James says, squeezing her hands. “And it’s taken me too long already.”
“It was a battle between our parents, and we’re not responsible for their mistakes. All I ask is that we do better,” Beth says firmly.
The way she’s staring at him, collected, calm, and sure—she looks so like his aunt. “All right,” he agrees, because what else can he do but do as she asks?
Beth smiles and pulls him in for another fast hug before releasing him to return to her seat. He stays standing, watching as she settles herself and picks up her teacup. There’s relief and joy and pride humming through him, but it’s still not quite right.
“You’re wrong, you know,” he says, slowly sinking back into his seat at Beth’s arched eyebrow. “I may not be responsible, but I need to reckon with the mistakes of my predecessors to make the Demeroven name right.”
He winces. How easily he falls into old patterns, letting his words get ahead of him to insult her father...
“My father was a complete arse. And let’s be honest, your stepfather is too,” Beth says easily.
James snorts in surprise. “No argument here.”
“But I agree, it would be nice to see something good come from the Demeroven title. Something...” She trails off, eyes fixed against the back wall.
“Agreed,” he says, the reality of their impending return sinking back onto his shoulders. “Obviously, I agree with Lord Havenfort’s politics. It seems... inconceivable not to, so I will continue to... fight the good fight in the Lords.”
“Already an improvement over my father,” Beth says.
James raises his teacup and takes a sip, wishing it felt like more of an accomplishment. “Otherwise, I only know I want to put the title toward something good. I just don’t know what that should be,” he admits.
Beth bobs her head, contemplative. “Whatever you decide, my mother and I will support you.”
“I’ll try to do the family proud, whatever I choose to do—whatever we choose to do,” he says, watching as she smiles. “You may not have the name any longer, but you’ll always be part of the Demeroven title.”
Beth takes a deep breath, her eyes glistening. “We’ll make our own path?”
“Together,” James agrees, something like contentment settling into his bones.
