“She did for many years. She told me when I was fourteen.”
“And what did she tell you?”
Lydia was suddenly uncomfortable. Quite unconsciously she sought out Nathan, mutely appealing to him for help.
“Irish...” Nathan began. “She doesn’t—”
Irish slammed his empty hand against the arm of his chair causing Lydia to jerk in surprised reaction. He spoke roughly to Nathan. “She asked me to tell her about the wager and I will—in my words, in my way. You can leave if you want.”
“No, I’ll stay.” After all, he thought, he was one of the people something had been doneto.
“What did your mother say about me?” Irish asked Lydia again.
Lydia laid down her fork. “She said you were a rapist…that you raped her and that I was the child of your violence. She said you were a dirty Sydney Duck and that you had committed unspeakable crimes before you were transported. She told me once that there had been a time when she trusted you, thought you were different from the others you ran with, and then you proved to her how wrong she was by taking her by force.”
Irish’s grip on his tumbler eased gradually. “And what would you say if I told you that it was all lies?”
“I’d sayyouwere the liar.”
Irish nodded, expecting that answer. “Then you’re not ready to hear about the wager. You wouldn’t understand and you wouldn’t believe.”
“You expect me to believe you?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that? Ignore everything my mother’s ever told me about you when I have all kinds of evidence to support what she’s said? Nothing you’ve done has been for me. It’s all been foryou.You’ve acted ruthlessly and without feeling. I may not understand this stupid, childish wager of yours, but I know enough to realize you never once acted on my behalf or on the behalf of anyone besides yourself.”
Lydia swept the napkin from her lap, folded it neatly, and dropped it beside her plate. She stood, her silk gown whispering softly in the oppressively silent room as she pushed back her chair and walked out.
Nathan watched her go, appreciation in his silver, blue-ringed eyes. The faint smile that hovered on his lips applauded her. He uncovered the rolls, chose one, and began to butter it.
Irish shot him a sour glance and finished his drink in two long swallows. “You approve, I suppose.”
“Of Lydia? Yes, I approve. And so should you, Irish. She’s your daughter through and through.”
Setting down his tumbler, Irish said heavily. “No, she’s not. She’s Samuel Chadwick’s daughter. She just reminded me how much.”
There was a lot of truth in that statement and Nathan didn’t respond to it. “What is it that you expect from her?”
“An open mind. If she’d just hear me out with an open mind, I’d be satisfied with that. What chance do I have of being heard when Madeline’s filled her head with those foul lies?”
“You weren’t really asking for an open mind, though,” said Nathan. “You wanted her to believe you outright and she’s not going to do that. She needs time, Irish. You have to let her come to know you, learn to trust you a little. She’s not going to respect you simply because you say you’re her father. Her feelings aren’t attached.”
“Can’t you talk to her?”
“No. Not about this. You said you wanted it in your words, your way. I’m not interfering. Besides, she was very clear about her feelings toward me this afternoon. I don’t have any influence.”
“But she’s your wife.” His tone suggested there should be no problem.
“She doesn’t think like convict women, Irish, or their daughters. She doesn’t expect to be treated with indifference except in the bedroom, and in there she doesn’t expect to be treated like a whore. Lydia has a heart and mind of her own and you’d do well not to try to stuff her with your opinions because she’ll reject them all. You’ve got to give her time.”
“Time,” Irish said softly, “is the one thing I don’t have.”
Chapter 11
“Ibrought you this,” Nathan said, nudging the bedroom door closed with his boot heel. He carried a tray filled with a helping of everything from their meal. “You left the table without eating much. I thought you might be hungry.”
“I am.” She put down her embroidery and cleared the side table ladened with books so Nathan would have a place to put the tray.
“We’ll have to get another table for you here if you’re going to eat many meals in this room.” He pushed the table and tray close to the bed where Lydia was perched on the edge.
Prickles of warmth touched Lydia’s cheeks and she stared at her hands in her lap momentarily, sighing. “Yes, well, I’m surprised you’ve brought me anything at all, or more than bread and water. I was unconscionably rude to your employer.”
