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Millicent frowned. “Will Papa come to wish me goodnight?”
Isabel swallowed. “No, dear. Not tonight. He is still taking care of the Thornsby estate, but he shall come home soon, I promise.”
“Then can you ask Edith to sing to me?” Millie asked.
“I can sing to you if you want,” Isabel said softly.
Millie looked at her queerly. “I would like Edith to sing.”
Isabel smiled, although a huge boulder lodged in her throat. “Of course.”
She tucked the covers tightly over Millicent as her heart sank. She should not be upset over the girl’s rejection. They’d only spent one day alone together. Surely it took longer than that to earn the little girl’s trust.
Isabel stood and walked toward the door and pulled the servants’ bell. Edith hurried in a few moments later, and Millicent smiled brightly.
“Good night,” Isabel whispered as she left the room.
* * *
Vane had a difficult day. He worried about Millie his entire trip to the Thornsby estate, but all his worries were replaced with horror as soon as he got there.
The note he’d received earlier did not exaggerate. The consequences of the flooding were devastating. A few houses were affected, some livestock and food provisions.
Vane spent a few days digging people’s belongings out of their cellars and making certain everyone had a roof over their head for the next few weeks. Restoring those homes would not be an easy feat.
He had sent an urgent note to his solicitor to swiftly arrange compensation for those who’d lost their belongings or homes in the flood.
This incident made him question the way he ran his estates. He had estate managers, yes. But they did not care for the lands and the tenants the way Rhys did. He needed to pay closer attention to his lands other than the Vane estate. And now that he’d had Lady Isabel to look after the manor, perhaps he could afford to leave on longer journeys and spend more time out of his family seat.
Still, he was agitated and nervous when he finally returned home a few days later.
He wanted to see Millicent before she fell asleep. He’d missed her dearly. He galloped all the way, although he was extremely tired, and still made it home quite late at night. He was also dirty, winded, and smudged with mud. But he needed to see his daughter and make sure everything was well.
He threw the reins into his groom’s hands and rushed inside.
The hall was eerily dark. The ominous silence in the house heightened his anxiety. It happened again, his mind whispered to him with every beating of his heart.
It happened again.
The butler stepped toward him, his arms outstretched.
Anxiety rose in the form of bile up to his throat.
He swallowed. “Monroe. Where is Millie?”
“In her room, my lord. She just went to bed.”
Rhys took off his gloves and hat and handed it to the butler. A part of his anxiousness abated, but he still dreaded asking the next question. “And Lady Isabel?”
“She also went to bed, my lord.”
Rhys expelled a breath of relief. “I shall go and wish Millie goodnight. Please, tell my valet to bring me some clean clothes and a towel. I shall go and wash up at the stream. No need to bother maids with heating a bath at such a late hour.”
Monroe nodded, and Rhys hurried up the steps to his daughter’s room.
He knocked on the door and entered without waiting for her reply, as was his habit. Millie lay in her bed, and Edith sat by her side, singing. Millie looked at him under her furrowed brows as soon as he entered, her disapproval evident.
Rhys’s heart swelled. He had missed her disapproving mien. How had he managed to spend so many days without seeing her?
