She filled a plate for herself and sat down at the table. After a few minutes of stilted silence, she asked, “What are your plans for the day?”
He heaved a sigh. “I have none.”
Mr. Pritchens spoke up. “I believe you’re to pay a visit to Mr. Randall today.”
Her father snorted. “I’m the last person he wants to see.”
“Probably,” Cecelia agreed. “But you should visit anyway.”
“We’ll see,” her father said. He raised an inquiring brow at her. “What are your plans today?”
“I believe I have to see how much damage you’ve caused, find out what the repercussions will be, and try to fix everything you’ve fouled up.” She took a sip of her tea. “That should take the whole day. And perhaps tomorrow.” And the rest of her life.
“I’m sorry,” he said blandly.
“Don’t be sorry,” she snapped. “Change.”
He threw his fork down with a clatter. “You think I haven’t tried?”
“Try harder.”
She hated to be so callous. But this problem wasn’t going to solve itself. He had to participate in his own care. He had to help them. He had to have a reason to help them.
She leaned forward, catching her father’s dark gaze with her own. She forced him to look her in the eye by not breaking contact. “If you can’t clean yourself up, I’m going to leave.”
He snorted. “And go where?”
She tossed her napkin into her plate and got up from her chair. “Anywhere but here,” she said as she left the room.
There was room for her in the human world, she was certain of that. She could be a governess or a nanny. She could even marry a rich lord and have his children. She’d have to clip her wings to do so, but maybe leaving home was what she needed. Right now, she couldn’t get far enough away fro
m her own life. She needed someone else’s. Desperately.
Cecelia had to go pay a call on Mrs. Dalparsons. She was the only one in the land of the fae who might know what to give her father to keep him from drinking. She specialized in herbs and potions, and she knew what to give for every ailment. And if anyone ever had an ailment, it was Cecelia’s father.
She went out the front door, her skirts swishing about her knees, and looked up at the bright sun. The land of the fae didn’t have the same soot-washed streets as London. It didn’t have the litter or the dull gleam of disuse. It nearly sparkled. And she usually sparkled with it. But she couldn’t find a single spark within her. She drew in a deep breath and then nearly choked on it when she saw Marcus coming up the lane. He had to be a figment of her imagination. His body was limned by the rising sun, and he was hatless, his hair loose about his shoulders.
Her breath halted in her throat, and tears burned at the backs of her eyes. She blinked them back and stayed put. She wouldn’t run and fling herself into his arms. She couldn’t let him know that she needed him that much. But she needed him. Good God, she needed him.
“Marcus,” she said as he walked closer to her. His grin was almost infectious. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted a stalk of wheat to his lips and then talked around it. “This is kind of like déjà vu, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He mocked her tone. “What are you doing here?” He changed to his own deeper tone. “Looking for you, you ninny.” Her tone. “Why are you looking for me?” His. “Because I can’t live without you.”
He held his hand to his heart and looked at her, and then reached for her. She didn’t even think twice before she took his hand. It swallowed hers as he came to stand beside her on the top step. Then he sat down and tugged on her fingertips until she sat down beside him.
His knee brushed hers, the warmth of his leg seeping through his trousers and the skirt of her dress. “My parents came for a visit. It’s my grandmother’s birthday, apparently.”
Her heart sank.
“I think it was a trick,” he admitted, grinning, “because her birthday isn’t until January.”
“But that’s why you came.”
He shook his head. “No. I came for you. Because I can’t live without you.”