Page 102 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Ronan set the letter on the rug between them. Once again, she was surprised that he had complied.

The fire settled with a low crack, and Augusta folded her hands in her lap. For several minutes neither of them spoke, though it was not a peaceful silence. The entire house seemed to be waiting with them.

Then Ronan said, “She will be frightened.”

Augusta turned her head.

He was looking into the fire. “Sarah tries not to show it when she is afraid. Have you noticed that? She becomes very quiet.”

“I know.” Augusta swallowed. “She is six.”

“She should be in bed.” His voice remained level, but his fingers had curled tightly against his knee. “She should be asleep, and I should know where she is. Instead, she is somewhere with a man I do not know, and I cannot even tell you whether she has someone to comfort her because I have no idea what is happening to my own daughter.”

Augusta shifted closer. “You are going to find her.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I know you,” she said without missing a beat. “I am frightened too, but I trust you to handle it. Whoever took her wants you to meet him tomorrow, which means whatever he intends is not finished tonight.”

Ronan looked back toward the flames. “That is what I have been telling myself.”

The silence returned, and when Ronan spoke again, there was no irritation in him at all. “I have not been a good father to her.”

“Why say that?” Augusta looked at him sharply. “It is what you are telling yourself because she is missing.”

“No.” He shook his head, slowly rather than defensively. “I have known it for some time. I simply had the luxury of believing I could repair it gradually.”

She did not interrupt him then. Ronan drew one knee up slightly, his other leg remaining extended before the fire.

”I made certain Sarah had everything she needed. If she needed something, I saw that she had it. I asked after her constantly and somehow persuaded it was the same thing as being with her.”

“You cared for her in the way you understood.”

His eyes shifted toward her.

“You were distant. I shall not tell you that you were a perfect father,” Augusta sighed. “But neither will I sit here and allow you to decide you never loved her simply because you did not know how to show it properly.”

His expression tightened. “She used to come to my study.”

Augusta went still.

“She would stand in the doorway,” he said, “and ask if I was busy. I always seemed to be doing something terribly important. Whatever happened to be on the desk in front of me became important enough that I could tell her I would see her later.”

“And did you?”

“Sometimes.”

The single word hurt more than she expected.

Ronan rubbed his thumb against the side of his hand. “The absurd thing is that I cannot remember what was so urgent but I remember her standing at the door.”

Augusta reached for his hand then, and Ronan let her take it.

“You loved her already,” Augusta said. “You simply thought providing for her was enough because that was the kind of father you knew how to be.”

“That does not excuse it.”

“Why must everything either excuse you or condemn you? I am certain that Sarah adores you.”