She sets her book on the bed.
I step inside, close the door, and lean against it. “You, my love, are the rightful Duchess of Rohinn. And Fort Vauclairt is officially yours.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” I say, crossing the room.
She scoots over.
I sit beside her and take her hands. “Judge Sarrazin ruled in our favor. It’s yours, Millie. All of it.”
“We’re…” She swallows hard. “Not moving?”
I laugh, and this time it’s pure relief. “We’re staying right here. Your home stays your home.”
She lets out a squeal and throws her arms around me, nearly toppling both of us.
“This is the best day of my life!” she announces when she’s done squeezing me.
I kiss her hair, grinning like an idiot. “Mine too.”
“What about Uncle Alex?” she asks, sliding back down on the edge of the bed.
I keep my tone casual. “What about him?”
“I mean…” Millie fiddles with the corner of her book. “He’ll have to leave now, right?”
“Right.”
She hesitates, then shrugs one shoulder. “He’s not too awful, you know? It’s kind of cool he’s such a math freak.”
I study the bedspread.
“And he’s been nice,” she adds. “You know, in his own weird way.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Nice?”
“Like, he’s not mean. And he explains stuff so that it makes sense. And he doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable.” Her voice dips. “I’d rather he stayed.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “We’ll see, sweetheart.”
Her smile is small, uncertain. I hug her again, tighter, and tell myself she’s just gotten used to him being around. Nothing more.
For a moment, we just breathe together. Millie’s warmth anchors me. My chest feels lighter than it has in weeks. In years.
But the lightness doesn’t last. Her words echo in my head, stripped of self-deception this time. Has Alex, in just two weeks, become a father figure to her? Will she miss him when he’s gone? Will I?
Wrong question.If I’m being honest with myself, I should be asking, How badly?
Then, unbidden, Brigitte’s drunken mutterings creep back into my mind.
Geoffroy’s sin… Returning Alex his due…
I shove the thought away. It was incoherent nonsense. It didn’t mean anything.
It couldn’t possibly mean anything.
27
