reconcile the decisions you make for their own good.” His hands gnarled together over his thin legs. A body once so strong now reduced to a shell of former vitality, yet the submission to atrophy had only sharpened the steel of mind. A steel Kat sharpened her own resolve against.
“Their good or the good of the family?”
“To me, they are the same.”
“But not to me.” The brooch weighed heavy in her hand, a solid reminder of all that had happened. Of the woman it had forged of her own wit and volition. She had changed, and there was no going back. “When I was in France, I saw families torn apart because of their family names. People put aside their differences and came together in the spirit of what truly matters. I was forced to become what I never imagined, yet in doing so I found what truly matters to me. And it’s not money or position.”
“That money and position has provided you with protection your whole life.”
“From some things, but in other ways it’s a prison. A life sentence of what we do not want.”
Her father, commander of troops and starer-down of cannon fire during the Great War, flinched. “I only did what I thought right. For you and Eleanor. To see you provided for and safe. Though as any good commander I must assume blame for my tactics.” His dark-blue eyes, squeezed into a perpetual squint from years of staring through binoculars toward the enemy line, studied her without blinking. Finally, a long sigh settled down his round nose. “Perhaps you’re right. Eleanor would not be here, and I very seriously doubt still alive, if not for your bravery.” His bristled mustache twitched. “You’ve done me proud, daughter.”
Tears pricked her eyes once more as his words assuaged the pain that had rippled around her heart for years. She swallowed hard to keep the waterworks from overflowing, as if he couldn’t already see she’d been sobbing. No matter Father’s sentiment, she couldn’t deny the real source of their survival. But to speak his name and remember everything they had done and gone through together . . . She might as well slit open her veins and let the sorrow flow free.
She turned away before he saw the weakness cracking the surface. “I assure you it was not all me, Father.”
“Not from what I’ve heard.”
“You know better than I not to believe everything you hear.”
He nodded, fixing his gaze on the hedges sprawling before them. “Yes, a lifetime of politics has taught me that. But every once in a while you meet a person who will undeniably tell you the truth flat to your face. Such as the man I met only this morning.”
Barrett. Heart lurching, she dug her fingers into the tops of her knees. “No doubt he failed to keep his mouth shut when he came to collect his check.”
“I shall say this: if I were still a military man, I would have had him court-martialed from his first two words. Never in my life have I been spoken to in such a manner.”
“I suppose with his pockets now loaded with your money, he feels he has the right to speak to you any way he wishes.”
“Must be a fine way to live. Speaking your mind without fear of reprisal. Would hardly work for our set. The aristocracy pride themselves too much on what is not spoken.” His arm brushed hers. “Perhaps I’m getting on in years, but I’m finding that what’s left unsaid is most often what we regret.”
Kat frowned. “You’re trying to make a point.”
Father’s lips flattened in the exasperated way they did with his dimwitted junior lieutenants. “That is a fine young man who told me off this morning, and you’re a fool to not go after him.”
Kat’s mouth dropped open. Words tripped over her tongue, but not one made sense. “But how . . . What?”
“You’re a Whitford. And no Whitford sits around weeping their eyes red like a silly debutante. We attack and never let up until the thing we want most is in our palm.” He shifted position with a grunt, drooping his ramrod shoulders. “I’ve tried very hard to do what’s best by you, your mother, and your sister. At times I did not always think of what you may have wanted, but I assure you it came only from wanting to give you the best of what you deserved. Truthfully, I never thought a man could be your equal. I