Kit’s voice asked from behind her, “Elise, are you all right?”
She rose, her palms muddy. “Of course you followed me,” she said through her laughter, but there was no mirth in the sound now. “Kit and Tamsyn—I can trust you. But no one else. Oh, no. Those closest to us always betray us.”
And then the laughter changed. It became a howling, angry, vicious cry against the world.
Kit was in front of her in a beat. He took her by the arms. “What is it?” he asked, his voice gentle. She closed her eyes against him. Oh, he was going to pity her. Sheshouldbe pitied.
She steadied herself, his touch helping her regain control over her crazed emotions. “Washe your father?” he asked her.
Elise nodded and pulled away from him. She marched the length of the pond and back, trying to settle herself. She found her voice. “It was him.”
“Then what is wrong?” Kit asked.
In response, Elise sank to the grassy ground. A sob rose from deep within her. The sound was almost inhuman.
Kit was on his knees in front of her in a blink. He took her in his arms and she dove into his chest, holding him as if she would collapse without him.
And she gave in to those deep heaving sobs.A Lanscarr never cried—or so her “father” had told them. But the truth was, she’d cried over him many times. She had cried every time he’d left. She wept when he’d been declared dead. He’d been important to her. Now, he wasnothing.
Kit pulled her closer. He repeated softly, “Go on. Let it out.”
She did. Years of disappointment and confusion poured out of her. She wished she didn’t know what she knew now. She wished she could deny it. But wishing didn’t change what was true.
That was the lesson she was learning, wasn’t it? Life never met expectations.
And the best thing she could do was accept the reality—whether it was losing Wiltham to a male cousin or that her father was not the man she’d imagined him.
She took hold of herself. They sat on the ground. She was in his lap, tucked into the shelter of his arms and chest. She sat up, faced Kit. “He has another family.”
If she had blackened Kit’s other eye, he could not have reacted with more surprise. “Another family?”
“Yes.” She took a deep steadying breath. “All these years Gram and my aunt Tweedie took care of us because father was serving his country and then later—” She lifted her shoulders, dropped them. “We were told to accept him the way he was. That was what Gram said. He was the man Mother married.” Another bubble of hysteriathreatened her. “She probably didn’t know he was married to another woman as well.”
“What?”
His kindness, his willingness to listen were what she needed right now. She curled her hands resting against his chest into fists. “He has children. The oldest is my and Dara’s age. They are allsons, Kit. He chose them over being with his daughters. Apparently, he tried to split himself between two families and then finally, he chose one. It wasn’t mine.”
“But what of this Wiltham? Doesn’t he own the estate?”
She shrugged. “Gram, the overseer, and the factors ran it. There was not much money in it. Wiltham paid its bills and little else. I don’t know why he chose to just stop visiting... he could have abandoned them and come to us. He didn’t. Instead, he let us believe he was dead. That is hard to accept. He let us grieve. We lost our home.And,” she stressed, “we were being sold off to suitors and had to make our own way to London and try to create lives for ourselves.Andall this time, he was here withhis sons.” Shock was giving way to anger. “That is the way of the world, isn’t it? Women don’t matter.”
“Not everyone is like him—”
“I thought my sisters and I mattered to him,” she cut in, the tears in danger of flowing again. “I thoughtImattered.”
“You do matter, Elise.” He wrapped his armsaround her and gave her a fierce, tight hug. “You matter very much.”
“But not to him.” She bowed her head but he cupped her face with his hands forcing her to look at him.
“To the devil with him.He is of no account.” Gray eyes searched hers. “Do you understand? You are worth a million of your father. And his sons? They will be like him. Entitled and lazy.”
“He has a nice house.” She felt she must point that out, although Kit was saying all the right things.
“The house was probably in his wife’s family. Isn’t that how he had Wiltham?”
“Yes, it came through his marriage to my mother.”
“I wonder what the courts would say if we showed that your father was a bigamist.”
