“What was he like?” Max asked, still talking quietly.
“Charlie?” I asked back, still talking in my sleep.
“Yeah.”
“Best brother ever,” I whispered and snuggled closer.
“I’m gettin’ that,” Max muttered but I heard a smile in his voice.
“You remind me of him,” I said sleepily, not noticing Max’s body tense. “He said it like it was. Didn’t mince words but that didn’t mean he wasn’t kind. He was smart. He took care of his Mom, me, his fiancée. He was thoughtful. Something meant something to him, he took care of it. Someone meant something to him, he let them know it. Never had a doubt about that, knowing how much Charlie loved me,” I sighed then concluded, “He was a good man.”
“It’s good you had that,” Max whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Means maybe you’ll recognize it, eventually.”
“Mm,” I murmured, not processing words because I was just barely awake.
“Duchess?”
“Yes, darling?”
I didn’t notice his body getting tense again then his hand slid up my back and into my hair and he said, “Go to sleep, baby.”
I did as I was told.
Chapter Seven
The Love of His Life
“Nina, honey, wake up.”
My body was being shaken gently at the hip and Max’s voice was coming at me.
I struggled up through the fog of sleep, turned my head on the pillow and blinked at him. He was wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms and, for some reason, he was sitting on the side of the bed and had a carefully blank expression on his face.
“What?” I asked, still sleepy but also vaguely alarmed at his blank look. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Max look blank.
“Baby,” he said quietly before he continued with three words that made my drowsiness instantly disappear and my head figuratively explode. “Your father’s here.”
I shot up to an elbow and repeated, a lot louder this time, “What?”
Then I didn’t give him the chance to answer. I threw back the covers and twisted my lower body around Max, got to my feet and stomped (and obviously I could forgive myself for stomping this time) toward the stairs.
“Nina,” Max called but I didn’t stop. I just tramped irately down the winding stairs.
Niles had phoned my father. He didn’t talk to me. He talked to my father.
Which was the very definition of Niles not listening to me. I told him my father had no place in my life but my father kept his place in it and he did this by keeping in touch with Niles. Niles had a great relationship with his family and therefore he never understood why I refused to talk to my father mainly because he never listened during any of the vast amounts of times I explained it to him.
And my father was here. Here. He’d dropped everything and flown halfway around the world to stick his nose into something that was none his business. And I knew why he did it. Therefore, not only the fact that he was here but why he was here was absolutely, one hundred percent infuriating.
I hit the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, seeing my father standing tall and erect wearing an expensive suit, shiny shoes and a camelhair overcoat. His fair hair was neatly trimmed with only a hint of gray, his cheeks were smooth and his face was the face of a man ten years younger than him. And even though I knew he’d recently made the journey I’d made not long ago, he looked fresh as a daisy.
When I approached him, he didn’t look at me. He was deep in the study of Cotton’s pictures.
“Dad,” I snapped.