He couldn’t help what he’d become, she supposed, but she didn’t have to like it, did she?
“Father!” she called again. A servant bustled into the corridor with a wet rag in her hand that smelled vaguely of spirits.
“Miss,” the house faerie said, dropping into a curtsy. She pulled the study door shut as Cecelia tried to look around her into the room. “I didn’t expect you to come home today. Is everything all right?” she asked.
The maid took Cecelia’s elbow to guide her from the door. But Cecelia stood firm. “Where is my father?” she asked.
She reached for the door handle, but the maid covered it with her hand. “You don’t need to go in there today, miss,” she warned quietly. She wouldn’t look Cecelia in the eye.
“Is he foxed?” Cecelia asked.
“Well,” the maid began.
“Tell me!” Cecelia snapped.
“Beyond foxed, miss,” the maid admitted. She rushed on to say, “But you need not worry yourself with it. We have it all under control.”
Not worry herself with it? How could she not worry herself with it? It was her father, for goodness’ sake. He seemed to want nothing more than to pickle himself on a regular basis.
“Step to the side,” Cecelia ordered.
The maid danced in her place.
“Now,” Cecelia said succinctly. She didn’t need to raise her voice. Not doing so in this situation was just as powerful. The maid took one small step to the side.
Cecelia turned the knob and opened the door slowly. “I told you to get out!” her father bellowed. Then a glass smashed on the wall right beside her head.
“Father!” Cecelia warned.
The broken man who sat crumpled at the desk wasn’t her father. He wasn’t. His eyes weren’t laughing, and his face was tarnished by days of beard growth. He may as well have died when her mother did. Sometimes Cecelia wished he had.
“Cece?” he asked. “Is that you?” He could barely hold his eyes open.
“Yes, it’s me.”
He reached out a hand to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his cheek, which was wet with tears.
“You left me,” he said softly.
“I’m back now,” Cece whispered, shushing him. “Everything will be fine.”
“Where did you go?” her father asked.
“I had a mission,” she said.
“Did it go well?” he asked. He propped his chin in his hand and spoke to her with his eyes closed. It was all he could do to hold his head up. Apparently, she wasn’t worthy of him even opening his eyes.
“As well as could be expected,” she sighed.
“I thought you left me,” he said softly. His voice broke. “Just like she did.” He swiped at his eyes. Her father was emotional when he was foxed.
“I have to leave from time to time,” she warned. His chin fell off his hand, and she slid beneath his arm to help him to his feet. If she wasn’t mistaken, he would soon fall on the floor and then he’d be there for the rest of the night, since she wouldn’t be able to get him up. Since he had a tendency to get violent, the footmen wouldn’t come to help. Not anymore.
“Did you see your fellow?” he asked, looking down at her as she struggled with his weight toward the door.
“I don’t have a fellow, Father,” she said.
“Marcus? Didn’t you see him?” he asked as she sat him down on the edge of his bed and bent to pull off his boots.