How long she stood, she didn’t know. She became aware of Robby staring curiously at her, and she turned her gaze to him.
“You look rather sad if you don’t mind me saying so,” he said as he ambled up.
She attempted a smile but knew she failed miserably. “I was thinking of my father.” It wasn’t a lie, and she would let Robby think what he may of the statement.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You must miss him terribly.”
She nodded.
“Ridge thinks we should travel north, not south,” he said casually.
She flinched and worked to contain her reaction. Did Ridge suspect she had lied to him? How on earth could he possibly have determined that the city lay to the north?
She emitted a shaky laugh. “Well he is welcome to travel north, but I fear he will be sorely disappointed in his findings.”
Robby shrugged. “Who is to know why he thinks as he does. He seemed concerned that we were to go south.”
India cursed under her breath. She cursed Robby’s presence, and she cursed the bastards who held her father. If only he were home in England where he belonged, she would have never met Ridge, never entered this web of deceit, and she would never have cause to hate herself as she did now.
Kavi and Udaya walked up, and India eagerly turned her attention to them.
“It is time to board,” Kavi said, bending to collect India’s valise. “Sahibawaits us at the gangplank.”
Her heart thudded painfully as she walked slowly toward the ship.
It’s not too late, it’s not too late.
But it was. She knew what she had to do. There was never a choice to make, no matter how hard she wished the opposite to be true. Her father must come first.
She couldn’t meet Ridge’s eyes as she mounted the gangplank. She stared straight ahead, hardening her resolve. Hardening her heart. Wishing with all her might that Ridge meant nothing to her. That she didn’t ache from wanting him. That she didn’t have to make him hate her.
###
Everyone makes mistakes in life, and the Earl of Drysedale had made his fair share. But nothing compared to the muck he had made of his relationship with his sons.
He ran a tired hand through his thinning hair and turned from his position at the window of his London townhouse. So much regret. If only...
He gave a great sigh. There was no sense pondering the if onlys. The years had gone by so damn fast, fading into obscurity, taking his sons further and further away from him. All his own doing, damn his soul.
After what his own father had done, the earl had vowed never to betray his sons. Never desert them. He had failed.
The sound of his wife’s footsteps made him look up. She appeared in the doorway, a missive extended toward him.
“From Robert,” she said, her tone wary.
The earl frowned. It wasn’t like Robert to send around a note. He was much more likely to flop into his father’s study, an expression of irreverence marking his features, say whatever it was he wanted to say and suffer his father’s lecture with a roll of his eyes. No, notes weren’t Robert’s trademark.
He unfolded the vellum and glanced up at Elizabeth, noting concern in her expression as well. Shaking off his feeling of unease, he dropped his gaze to the letter, taking in Robert’s unsteady scrawl.
His hand began to shake as he read his son’s words. His nose burned, his eyes stung, drawing as tears formed in the corners.
Dear God,no. Not this. Anything but this.
The letter fell from his hands, and he sank to his knees.
“Charles!”
He buried his face in his hands as Elizabeth knelt beside him.
