“You’re hurt! W-what happened? Was it Kittridge, or his men?” she asked urgently.
Before Alasdair could speak, Lady Grisham cut in, voice shrill with offense.
“Elizabeth, remember that this man let you walk out of his house.Helet you taint your reputation, and your sister’s, when you married him. And now you let his empty promises sway you again? Think, girl!”
Alasdair stepped forward, his voice darker now, clipped and cold. “That’senough.”
Lady Grisham blinked at him.
“I’ve had enough of your poison,” he growled. “Say another word to her like that, and I will nae care whose parlor we’re standin’ in. I’ll tell ye precisely what I think of the way ye’ve treated yer stepdaughters, and what ye deserve in return.”
His voice echoed with restrained rage. Elizabeth touched his arm gently. Her presence alone calmed him. He turned toward her. She stepped in front of him.
“No, Alasdair. Let me.”
Their eyes met. He gave her a nod and took a quiet step back.
Elizabeth turned fully to face her stepmother.
“Lady Grisham,” she said, calm but commanding. “It’s my turn now. Let me remind you: I was part of the Grisham family before you ever married into it. Marianne, Daniel, and I had hopes. We thought our father had found a woman who might make him better. Wewantedto believe that we were getting a mother.”
Her voice didn’t shake. It rang out, clear and unyielding.
“But you never gave us that chance. Not really. When your own daughters were born, you barely stayed for them. You were a figurehead. Not a mother.”
Lady Grisham’s jaw dropped, but Elizabeth continued before she could recover.
“You’ve ruled this household with coldness and cruelty. We thought that without our father here, things might finally become peaceful. But your return? It’s been anything but.”
“Wilhelmina,” Lady Grisham snapped, turning toward her younger daughter with desperation, “surelyyouwon’t stand for this?—”
“No, Mother.” Wilhelmina replied quietly. “You’ve shown me no love. Only correction. Only rules. I won’t defend that.”
Lady Grisham recoiled as if slapped.
Elizabeth pressed on. “Instead of helping us hope for love, for joy, you tried to break us. You manipulated us. Smothered us. Made us think we were never enough.”
“Imadeyou,” Lady Grisham spat.
“No. Youdiminishedus. You made this house a place of silence and shame. Not a home.”
Wilhelmina stepped forward, nodding. “Elizabeth is right.”
The older woman looked from one daughter to the other, realization dawning that she stood entirely alone.
“I won’t stand for this, not in my own house,” she huffed, turned, trembling with fury, and stormed out of the parlor.
The silence she left behind felt like fresh air.
Finally, there was room to breathe.
Elizabeth hadn’t expected to see him again.
Not like this.
Not battered and bruised, blood still drying at his collar, his shirt torn at the seams and stained dark with pain. But there he was.
Alasdair, standing in the Grisham parlor as if no time had passed, as if their last words hadn’t left her hollowed out. Her heart twisted painfully at the sight of him. He looked like a man who had walked through fire and only barely made it out.