Rhys set down the letter he had been reading and met his friend’s eyes.
“Is she? Most people seem to think I’ve destroyed myself.”
“Most people are simpletons.” Benedict leaned forward, his expression serious.
“What you did today took courage. Real courage, not the performative kind you’ve been displaying for the last fifteenyears. You stood in front of the most powerful men in England and told them that you would not be ashamed of your children. That matters.”
“It may matter. It may also have accomplished nothing except making my life considerably more difficult.”
“Your life was already difficult. You were just pretending otherwise.” Benedict paused, considering his next words carefully.
“Serena wants to offer her assistance. She wants to write to Miss Grace, prepare her for what’s coming. Society is going to be… unkind. If Miss Grace is going to be part of your life, part of your family, she needs to understand what she’s facing.”
Rhys thought about Mel, about her practical efficiency and her clear-eyed honesty and the way she had told him not to decide what she could bear.
“She is fully aware of what she’s facing. She’s known since before any of this happened.”
“Knowing and experiencing are different things. Serena can help her navigate the social complexities, teach her which rules matter and which can be safely ignored. She can be an ally in ways that you and I cannot.”
“Because she’s a woman?”
“Because she’s a woman who has successfully navigated society’s expectations while maintaining her own principles. Sheknows how to survive in that world without losing herself.” Benedict smiled slightly.
“She also genuinely likes Miss Grace, based on everything you’ve told her. She’s quite eager to meet her properly.”
Rhys considered this. Serena Vane was formidable in her own right, a woman whose social position was unassailable and whose opinions carried weight in circles that mattered. Her support could mean the difference between ostracism and grudging acceptance, between constant battles and occasional victories.
“Tell Serena I would be grateful for her assistance. And tell her…” He paused, searching for the right words.
“Tell her that Mel is not a society debutante who needs to be moulded into something acceptable. She’s a woman who knows her own mind and will not be changed by other people’s expectations.”
“Serena would not attempt to change her. She would simply help her understand the battlefield.” Benedict rose from his chair.
“I should go. Serena will want to write that letter tonight, and I suspect you have arrangements to make.”
“Arrangements?”
“You were planning to return to Cornwall. I assume that plan has not changed?”
Rhys thought about Hartfell, about the house that had become more home to him than any London townhouse ever had. About the three children who needed to understand what had happened before they heard it from anyone else. About the woman who had taught him that hiding was not the same as living.
“The plan has not changed,” he said. “If anything, it’s become more urgent.”
“Then go. Face what you need to face. And know that Serena and I will be here, doing what we can to make things easier.”
Benedict departed, leaving Rhys alone with his correspondence and his thoughts. The letters continued to pile up, a mixture of support and condemnation that would have overwhelmed him a few months ago but which now seemed almost irrelevant.
The truth was out. His daughters existed, publicly, officially, undeniably. The scandal sheets could write whatever they pleased. Society could judge him however it chose. None of it changed the fundamental reality: he was a father, he adored his children, and he was finished pretending otherwise.
He began making arrangements for his departure.
***
The letter from Serena arrived at Hartfell two days before Rhys did.
He learned this later, from Mel, who mentioned it with characteristic understatement during their first conversation after his return. Lady Serena Vane had written a lengthy letter explaining the situation in London, offering her support and assistance, and providing practical advice about navigating society’s inevitable hostility.
But first, there was the arrival itself.
