Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Want to talk about it?” His father angled his face up and continued cleaning.
“Not particularly.”
“It’s not like my romance with your mother was conventional, Bryn.” He paused and set the rag in the bowl but made no move to pick it up again.
Bryn touched his busted lip. “Or Uncle Phillip’s with Fyre. Uncle Trace’s with Auntie Lea either.”
“Exactly. So my point is, I won’t judge. I won’t say you need to do one thing or another. I’ll listen. Something my father didn’t do.”
“Grandpa tries.” It was hard to point it out but he had seen the change in his grandfather and wanted to make sure it wasn’t forgotten.
“Now.” His father’s voice was a low rumble, showing the formidable man he had the capability of being. “He wasn’t when I was growing up. Or even until after my princess returned to my life.” He swiped the rag, wrung it out and pushed it back on Bryn’s face.
Biting back his cry of pain when his father pressed too hard on an open cut, Bryn remained still.
“He tried to pay her off to take you and go away.”
Bryn hadn’t heard about that. “When was that?”
“When you were first here. Trust me when I say I fucked up more times than she should have been willing to forgive me for. I only hope it doesn’t take you the same number of mistakes.”
“Why is that?”
“Because your mother is one of a kind and I don’t believe there’s another woman out there willing to put up with the fuck-ups like she did.”
With that, his father exited the room, leaving him alone with cooling water, a bloodied rag and the belief his father had pretty much told him to stop fucking around and get his woman.
Chapter Eleven
“A moment of your time, daughter.”
Rosamunde looked at her father and marveled how she still didn’t feel anything toward him. Not a single thing. Not anger, hatred, betrayal or the slightest hint of loyalty. When it came to him, she could only say she was empty.
“Of course.” She walked toward him and followed him into his study. Her mind was on the invitation she’d gotten for a weekend with the Heartstones.
As usual, it was well-heated, and she took the time to enjoy not shivering and trying to burrow beneath every blanket she could get a hold of. Waiting for his instruction, she took the chair he indicated. Back straight, legs back, hooked at the ankles. Sitting how she’d been trained to do since she was little.
Even though since then I’ve been nothing but a disappointment.
“Your new husband is on his way.”
She blinked.
“Nothing to say about it?”
“What good would it be to argue? You are selling me. Your decision has been made.”
The slightest bit of pain flashed but it didn’t last long, nor did it make her waver from her stance.
He flattened his lips. “How much longer does your brother have to train with the earl?”
“You would have to ask him. I go there and read by the fire while they train. I’m not involved in any of their discussions.”
Her father frowned. “I thought that was one of his stipulations. The earl said you were to be there.”
“I am there, but I’m not participating in the training.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Unless you would like me to do so.”
Honestly, she’d enjoyed sparring with Bryn. There had been a sense of worth and accomplishment when Bryn’d allowed her that time.
“It’s not for women.”
Rosamunde shrugged. “Fine then. Is there something else? I am supposed to meet Lady Heartstone.”
A sneer on his face this time. “You shouldn’t hang around the sister. She’s no better than he is.”
Fury rose within her but she tamped it down. “I was referring to the marchioness but I can send along my refusal and your words as to why.”
He blanched.
“No. You’ll not speak of this to anyone. I didn’t say anything to insult her. Remember that.”
She had no desire to be in his presence any longer. Rising from the chair, she gave him a nod and walked out, for the first time in her life not waiting for his permission to do so.
“Rosamunde!” he called out behind her.
“Yes, Father?”
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
“Are you ready to go, Miss Fletcher?” Lady Heartstone stood in her entryway, looking every bit the regal royal she was.
A gasp behind her from her father was all she got before he brushed by her, hand outstretched.
“What an honor to have you in my home, Lady Heartstone.”
“Is it?” Her tone was cold and haughty. “I was under the impression you had an issue with my children and me.” A small shoulder lift. “At least that’s how one could take the words you said in your study.”
Sure her face was red as a rose, Rosamunde edged by her father to stand before the marchioness. “Would you rather cancel, my lady?”