Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
I finally look at him again, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the red lines that surround his blue irises. “Dunno,” I say. “I think being married to Helene for twenty years was a pretty good place to start.”
He chuckles faintly. “Suppose so. But the real punishment,” he adds, serious once more, “was being separated from you. I cannot tell you how many times I wished I’d ignored Betty’s request and remained in your life, or how often I almost brought you here to stay after her death.
But I knew it was too late by then, and I feared that you would never forgive me for taking you from all you knew and loved, and…
” He shakes his head, his eyes watery now.
“We lost too many years, and I can never make those up to you. But I can make sure you know that I never, ever chose anyone—not even Maisie—over you. And I never will.”
A tear slides down his face, and despite my deep-seated bitterness and hurt, I’m on my feet before I’m even consciously aware of it. One moment, I’m huddled in the chair, and the next, I’m at my father’s side, sliding my arms around his shoulders and pressing my cheek to the top of his head.
“We lost too many years,” I agree, my throat tightening. “But we have them now, right?”
“Right,” he confirms, the word breaking under its own weight. “Thank you, Evie. For giving me a chance even when I didn’t deserve one. I will never let you down again, I swear it.”
I snort softly into his sandy hair. “You’re my dad, not a saint. Arguments are okay. I just…” I swallow hard. “I just need to know you’re on my side. That I’m not disposable to you, the way I am to everyone else in this family.”
“You’re not—” He pulls away, his eyes narrowed. “This has to do with Maisie, doesn’t it?”
My heart sinks. “I’ll do the DNA test if she wants, but no, it doesn’t exactly feel great to be used like—”
“I don’t mean that,” he says. “She told me what happened between you two.”
Now it’s my turn to stare at him suspiciously, and I lean against the edge of his desk with faux nonchalance. “Which thing, specifically?”
He hesitates. “She told me about the tea Ben sent, and that she tried to get you to drink it.”
Suddenly the office around us feels like the size of a coffin, and I stare at him, hardly daring to believe my own ears.
There’s no way Maisie would ever admit to that—ever.
“What—” My voice squeaks, and I clear my throat.
“What about it?” I say, because I’m absolutely sure that whatever Maisie told him, it wasn’t the whole story.
“That Ben laced it with something deadly, and that he gave her twenty-four hours to make you drink it, or else he’d tell the world about her paternity,” says Alexander calmly.
“Considering the pickle we’re all in now, and the fact that you’re still breathing, I guessed the rest of the story correctly. ”
My jaw works, and for twenty full seconds, I can’t think of a single thing to say.
“She slapped it out of my hand,” I finally manage.
“She said she thought I wouldn’t touch it, because of—what happened with Jasper, but—I trusted her.
I never thought she’d…” I grip the edge of the desk.
“Why did she tell you? Did she think I would?”
“I don’t know,” says Alexander. “But I’m glad she did, for multiple reasons. It was the incident that seemed to hit Venetia the hardest, for one, but I also wish you’d both come to me when it happened.”
“I didn’t want her to get in trouble,” I say, even though it’s much more complicated than that.
“Darling,” he says, sandwiching my hand between his. “When someone tries to kill you, no matter who it is, I’d prefer you tell me immediately rather than keep it secret. It makes keeping you alive much easier.”
“Even though it was Maisie?”
“Especially then. Considering she stopped you from drinking the concoction, and considering she came to me about it with the evidence we need to charge Ben with attempted murder, Singh is offering her full immunity.”
“Of course he is,” I mutter, even though the last thing Maisie needs—the last thing any member of this family needs, including me—is for this to turn into a legal shitshow.
“But,” says Alexander slowly, “if you want to press charges, that is entirely your prerogative. And I will fully support you with the legal might of the palace behind you.”
I stare at him like he’s just promised to start a war against France for me. “You—you’d do that?”
He nods. “There are no circumstances under which what she did was either understandable or acceptable, and I will certainly not be making excuses for her. If she hadn’t had a change of heart…
” He trails off, clenching his jaw. “Regardless of your choice, she’s lost as many privileges as I can feasibly take from her, and she will be apologizing and staying out of your way from here on out, unless you request otherwise.
She broke your trust—our trust—and I do not care how frightened or desperate she was.
There is no excuse for not coming to me. None.”
Something inside me thaws a little at that, and my grip on the desk relaxes. “You’d really go through the scandal of having her arrested? For me? Even though I’m fine?”
“Yes,” he says, looking me straight in the eye.
“I mean it, Evie. You are every bit as important to me as she is, and you have never—never been extra or disposable, or even the slightest bit lesser in any way to me. You are my daughter, and I have loved you with everything I am from the moment I knew you existed. And I will do whatever it takes, for however long it takes, for the rest of our lives if need be, for you to believe me.”
Pushing off the desk, I hug him again, speechless. He embraces me in return, tight and unyielding, even though I know he would let go in an instant if I asked. But no matter the distance or tension between us, there is one thing I believe now that I didn’t when I arrived in England last year:
He’s not just my father. He’s my dad, in every way I’ve ever wanted.
And while we may have endless obstacles in the road ahead of us, this is the first time they’ve felt smaller than the bond growing between us.
We may not be totally okay today or tomorrow, and with Maisie, I might never be again.
But at least now that hope feels permanent.