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“Anything else?” Evan asked.
Rafe had always trusted and respected Evan. And besides, at this point, with Gen’s safety in question, her father had a right to know. As simply as he could, he explained his epic fail involving Melinda the night before.
“I take it you’ve yet to tell my daughter that you love her.” It was gently said, but an accusation nonetheless. Evan knew way too much—because Rafe had told him. On that Sunday night, the day after the wedding, when the two of them had spent hours drinking brandy and smoking excellent cigars, Rafe had told the prince the truth: that he was in love with his bride, but he’d yet to tell Gen. “And never mind,” added Evan. “Your silence is your answer. The good news is that if she’s upset, it’s possible she did turn off her phone, that she decided she needs more time to sort things out.”
“God, I do hope so.”
“We’ll wait until morning,” Evan said. “If she hasn’t contacted you by then, her mother and I will be on our way to Hartmore.”
After ringing off with Evan, Rafe hardly knew what to do with himself. He was tempted to put on his walking shoes, grab another lantern and scour the pitch-dark countryside shouting her name all night long until he found her at last. It was raining by then. He stood at the window looking out on the darkness, watching the raindrops slide down the panes. He prayed that, wherever she was, she was safe and dry, with food in her belly.
There was a tap at the door.
Gen? He spun around at the sound.
But it was only Brooke. “I need a minute. Please.”
He went to the desk, dropped into his chair and demanded flatly, “What?”
She shut the door and came over and stood facing him with the desk between them. She looked awful, hollow-eyed. Troubled.
He had no sympathy for her. She should be troubled.
“I just got a call from Melinda.”
He swore. An ugly word. “I don’t want to hear about Melinda.”
Brooke didn’t crumble. She wrapped her arms around herself and kept her spine straight. “Melinda told me what she did last night. I had no idea. I swear it, Rafe. Just now, she said you two had been together, years ago, before she left for Paris.”
He stared at the paperweight in the corner of the desk. It would be so satisfying to grab it and hurl it at the far wall. To resist that temptation, he fisted his hands on his thighs. “Let me make myself clear. I don’t give a good damn about Melinda. And what is the point of this, I’d like to know? Gen is missing. Nothing else matters right now.”
“I just... I didn’t know, all right? I had no idea that Melinda was after you. It’s not like with Fiona. I mean, Fiona was my friend first, before anything happened with—” He surged upright again, so fast that she gasped. “Rafe! What?”
“Have you lost your mind completely, to come in here tonight and talk to me about Fiona?”
Brooke put up both hands. “All right. I’m sorry. Forget about Fiona.”
“Go to bed.”
“I will, yes. In a minute. It’s just, well, I mean it when I say I had no idea that Melinda had a secret agenda. I actually believed that she only wanted to be my friend.”
“Surprise,” he said, more cruelly than he should have.
Brooke didn’t even flinch. For once in her life, she just stood there and took it. “Melinda apologized for her behavior. She won’t be back.”
“Damn right she won’t.”
She hesitated. Then, “Please, Rafe. Can you tell me, is there any word about Genevra?”
“None. If we aren’t in touch with her by morning, her parents are coming and an organized search will begin.”
She swallowed, hard. “Oh, God. I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”
Wearily, he waved her off. “Go to bed, Brooke.” He waited for her to start crying and carrying on. As soon as she did, he planned to march around the desk, grab her by the arm, put her out the door and lock it behind her.
But she surprised him. There were no tears. She only pleaded softly, “Tell me that she’s all right.”
He sank back to the chair again. “I don’t know what will happen, Brooke. Go on now, go to bed. You’ll need your rest. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a hellish day.”
She nodded and turned for the door.
But she stopped when she got there and faced him once more. “I always... She’s so strong. She looks so sweet and delicate, but we all know she’s not. She’s as tough as they come. I can’t imagine her broken. Even beyond the fact that if something happened to her, it would be my fault, I don’t want anything to happen to her. I know you won’t believe this, but in my own sad, twisted way, I love her. She is a sister to me. Not all sisters get along, you know? Sisters have...rivalries. Jealousies. That’s me. The jealous sister. But if...when she comes home, I’m going to find a way to make it different between us, to make it what it should have been all along.” She opened the door.
