Steady.
Present.
She looked at him.
This man had been injured because of her father.
Disabled further because of her father.
Mocked for consequences her father had caused.
And still, when Rosalie began to fall, Gideon Rook’s instinct was to hold her gently.
She buried her face against his coat.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Not possessively.
Not because a marriage paper entitled him to.
Because she reached for him.
Behind them, Merrick whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Rosalie turned.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Merrick looked twenty years older.
“I was afraid.”
“For ten years?”
“Yes.”
His answer was shameful.
But honest.
“I drank because I was afraid.
I gambled because I hated coming home.
I mocked you because every time I looked at you I saw Mother.”
Rosalie’s anger remained.
Understanding did not erase it.
“You helped Father send me away.”
Merrick nodded.
Tears slid down his face.
“Yes.”
“
