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He’s not looking at me, and I’m torn between wanting him to focus on something other than the image of his father’s face and not wanting to see the crushing pain in his eyes.
“I could’ve climbed the ladder for her,” he says, his voice ragged. “Or I could have insisted she find the gardener. Or gone to find him myself. Or insisted that she wait. Or I could’ve at least been there when she fell. Maybe, if I’d been there, I could have called for help. We could’ve saved her.”
Obviously, he’s been haunted by these thoughts for years, and I have to wonder if he’s actually heard these words from his father. I grip his hand tightly. “Henry, you didn’t even know what she was doing. It’s not like you refused to help her. And even if you had, it’s not your fault that she fell. It was anaccident.”
He doesn’t respond to that. “My father stopped speaking to me after that,” he says. “He couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me. He told the family counselor who came to the house that I was a reminder of her and what had happened, and he would never forgive me.”
Jesus. I hate Henry’s father. So, so much.
I wonder if King Diarmuid could do something to him.
Or maybe Jonah or Colin. They’re highly trained bodyguards. Surely, they know some good, appropriately horrible torture techniques.
Or Iris.
She’s the boss now.
“Henry.”
He keeps going. “After that, my younger brother, at only thirteen, got into drugs. Six months later, he got high at a party and drove himself and a friend home. He smashed the car into a brick wall, and he and his friend were badly injured. They were in the hospital in intensive care for a month. The friend’s family sued my father for ten million dollars. They won.”
Oh God. This just keeps getting worse. I rub my hand over my chest, where my heart is literally aching. Tears prick my eyes. “Henry. God.”
“I want to tell you. You need to know how this all happened.”
I meet his eyes. There are so many emotions there that I want to look away. But I can’t. This is a huge, impactful part of the life of the man I love’s life. I need to know it. And no matter howpainful it is for me, it’s a hundred times worse for him. If telling me helps him in any way, I will listen and take this in.
I nod. “Go on.”
“My father also blamed me for my brother. He said I should’ve realized my brother was so upset. I should’ve gone to the party with him, I should’ve realized he was using drugs, I should not have let him take the car, I should have picked him up from the party, there was a whole list of things I should’ve done.
“So, before my brother even came home from the hospital, my father sent me to boarding school. Honestly, at the time, I thought maybe it was best. I didn’t want to be around my father either. So I didn’t argue or fight it. I just packed my bags, and our driver, Steven, drove me to school and dropped me off at the front door.” He pauses. “I never went home again.”
I stare at him. “What? Youneverwent home again?”
He meets my gaze directly. “I never saw my father again after I left my house that day. He never came to see me, and I never went home. He died six years ago of a brain aneurysm. My brother and I reconnected at his funeral, and we’ve been very slowly rebuilding our relationship, but it’s not easy. And—” He takes another deep breath, then blows it out, as if blowing out the painful words and memories. “My life has been very good anyway. I’ve missed my brother, but I never missed my father. It makes me feel terrible to say that, but it’s true. He was a cold man before, and after all of that happened, the way he blamed me and then just threw me away, I realize now that he was not a good father. I’ve accepted that, and while I haven’t forgiven him, I have let it stop influencing me.”
I nod. I think that’s good. His father didn’t deserve to know this amazing man. He sent Henry away. That was his choice. “Fuck him,” I say simply.
Henry nods. “He tried to reach out once after he found out I was working for the royal family.”
“I’ll bet he did.” I’m not sorry I’ll never meet the man.
“It felt really good to say, through the palace, that I had nothing to say to him, and I didn’t want to hear from him ever again. And I never did.”
I squeeze his hand. “Did you meet Cian at boarding school or something?” I think about how he is when he’s with the O’Gradys—happy, comfortable, clearly relaxed, and fully accepted.
Damn, I love them.
They’ve made my sister feel all of those things, too. And they helped heal the man I love. I will always be a loyal royal fan-girl.
Henry shakes his head. “No. I was at boarding school for two mostly uneventful years. I’d go home with friends for the holidays. I spent summers taking additional classes or working.”
Oh fuck. I hadn’t even thought about him being alone on holidays.
I hate his father even more now.
“Then, one day, I was pulled out of class because this man, Alfred Olsen, wanted to meet with me.”