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“Not Griffin, surely?”
She shook her head. “It was my governess, Mrs. Ellis. Papa knew nothing about it until he married Mama Thea, and she made him see what was going on. She defended me and helped me to understand that Mrs. Ellis said and did all those nasty things becauseshewas the bad one, not I.”
She sighed. “Sometimes, I doubt myself. I remember what Mrs. Ellis used to say—that I was a bad child, and everyone I cared about would turn from me when they understood my wickedness. But do you know what I say to myself when that happens?”
“Tell me.”
“I remind myself that I have a papa and mama who love me more than anything in the world. And in the dark moments when I cannot love myself, they do the loving for me until I’m able to love myself again.”
He blinked, and moisture stung his eyes.
“We’re lucky, you and me,” she said. “I have Mama Thea—and you have Aunt Attie. When you can’t love yourself, she does the loving for you.”
She smiled. “That’s why you’re my favorite uncle. You’re the one who’s most like me.”
Then she colored and looked away. “Forgive me, Uncle Devon,” she said.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he replied.
And there wasn’t. Perhaps, in the midst of all his self-loathing, it took the insight of his teenage niece—a child—to place a mirror in front of his soul.
What was it Fraser had said?
Children see the world with better eyes. And no more so than at Christmas.
