Page 17 of Surrender

The last thing she wanted was anyone in the family interfering in her life and making matters worse. Genevieve bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was doing well enough on her own in that regard. In the past week, she’d almost gotten herself killed, acquired a partner in the field, and seduced one of the most eligible men in the Marlborough Set.

Beside her, Percy Rockwood leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his thighs, as he studied the fire.

“Peter’s death has been difficult for the two of you.” The gentle remark made her jerk her head in her father’s direction.

“The two of us? Oh, you mean Theo.”

“Yes, Theo.” Eyebrows arched, her father eyed her with a hint of amused irony reflected in his loving gaze. “I would have thought your brother’s death would have brought the two of you closer.”

“Why would you think that?” she breathed, struggling not to show her rising alarm as her father’s eyebrows seemed to arch even higher.

“Because Peter was the rock you always clung to, and you’ve been the rock for the entire family since his death. You need someone to turn to, and Theo knew your brother just as well as you did. It’s natural for the two of you to console each other when no one else in the family can.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help grieving for Peter,” Genevieve said with cool reserve before looking away from her father to watch a blue flame dance across one of the logs in the fireplace. It reminded her of Theo’s kisses, hot and fiery. She brushed the memory aside.

“Don’t you?” A sideways glance showed her father’s incredulous expression of mockery.

“No. I don’t,” she said in a clipped tone, taking umbrage at what felt like the beginnings of an interrogation. Her annoyance disappeared as she met her father’s worried gaze, then looked back at the fire. “When I’m feeling…you always bring me chocolate whenever I’m feeling sad. You hold me for a little bit in silence as if you know I just need someone to lean on. Afterwards, I’m fine.”

“But you don’t cry, Genevieve, none of us have seen you cry. Your grief is obvious, but you don’t weep—ever. Sometimes, after I’ve held you for a short time, you’ll pull away, and your eyes will be watery as if you’re about to cry, but you don’t. It’s as if you refuse to do so.”

Irritation edged its way into her father’s stinging rebuke, and Genevieve jerked her head toward him in surprise. It was a rare occasion when Percy Rockwood spoke in such a harsh tone to anyone, least of all his children. Eyes wide with astonishment and confusion, she shook her head at the scowl creasing his forehead.

Unmistakable skepticism darkened her father’s features as he eyed her with disapproval. Genevieve couldn’t remember ever having seen him so stern looking. Denial made her straightened upright in her chair, her spine rigid, to meet her adoptive father’s judgemental gaze.

“I cry,” she exclaimed in a defensive tone, meeting her father’s obvious disapproval with defiance.

“When?” he snapped. “Jamie said you didn’t even cry in the carriage when he brought you home the evening we learned of Peter’s death. For Christ’s sake, Genevieve, you didn’t even cry at the wake or the church service, not a single tear.”

Stunned by the ferocity of her father’s accusatory chastisement, she stared at him in open-mouthed dismay as Percy Rockwood eyed her with an anger she’d never seen before. Almost immediately, her father’s demeanor became one of regret and guilt, and his sigh of remorse echoed loudly in the library.

“Forgive me, Genevieve, I didn’t intend to chastise you so harshly. It’s simply that your lack of emotion over Peter’s death has us worried about you.”

“There’s no need to be,” she said quietly, feeling herself shutting down inside as she averted her gaze.

“Of course, there is,” he said with exasperation. “We’ve seen how stoic you become whenever Peter’s name is mentioned. You shut everyone out. Then there’s the way the entire family leans on you when their grief becomes too difficult to bear. They come to you for comfort, to talk about your brother, and yet you don’t weep with them.”

Genevieve turned her head back toward the fireplace, but she didn’t see flames. All she saw was Peter quirking an eyebrow as he met her gaze, a familiar, mischievous grin curving his lips. The memory made her heart ache, and she shook her head, continuing to stare at the burning logs.

“And you comfort me when I’m hurting, Papa. Just because no one sees me cry doesn’t mean I don’t. I cry when I’m alone,” she said with a quiet reassurance, hoping her explanation would ease his concern. “It’s why I went to the croft yesterday. I needed a safe place where I could cry, scream with rage against the pain of it all, and to just sit in silence as I thought about Peter. I cannot do that in front of anyone, not even my family.”

“No one will judge you for openly expressing your grief, Genevieve. We all know how close you and Peter were,” her adoptive father said. “Even Theo is troubled by your lack of emotion.”

“What in heaven’s name makes you think Theo is worried about me,” she bit out angrily before remembering the first question Theo had asked when he arrived at the croft.

He’d asked if she’d gone there to grieve for Peter. The memory of what had followed a short time later made her heart skid out of control. Not since she was nine had she lain with a man. And Theo was the first man she’d ever given herself to freely.

Enticing and seducing him into bedding her had been a mistake, but dear Lord, it had been a glorious one. And it had been impossible to deny the pleasure she’d experienced in his arms or her wish to feel that incredible sensation again. It was why she’d suggested they become lovers. It had taken a great deal of courage to offer herself to him, and his rejection had stung.

“I know Theo’s worried about you. His concern is evident whenever the man looks at you.”

The soft reply made her look at her father in astonishment. A small smile tipped the corners of his mouth, and Percy Rockwood arched his eyebrow.

“I pay attention to the men who watch you from a distance, Genevieve.” Percy Rockwood eyed her with amusement and chuckled. “I’m your father, and any man who intends to court you will be evaluated thoroughly.”

“Court—no one is courting me—”

“Not at the moment, but you’ve already had one offer.”