Chapter 14: What His Father Wrote

Ronan's POV

Preston stood in the doorway in his socks with his shirt untucked.

I could see him through a gap in the drape, and I had never seen him stand so straight.

"I took it," he said.

"You took it," Honora repeated.

"The bottom drawer. I found the small key behind the pens a month ago. I read the letter tonight."

Claire's fingers closed on my sleeve.

"And?" said Honora.

"And I burned it. In the kitchen sink, an hour ago. It was Alistair saying he was sorry and that he was afraid of you."

The study was silent.

"You burned it," said Honora.

"Yes."

"You have never in your life done anything without asking me first."

"I know," Preston said. "I'm told it's a habit I can break."

I heard her stand up.

I heard her cross the room, and a sharp crack, the flat of a hand against a face.

I started forward and Claire held me back with both hands.

"Don't," she whispered into my shirt. "He's buying us the window."

Preston's voice came out thick and steady.

"There's ash in the sink if you want to see it."

"I want to see it," said Honora. "Bring my lawyer. All of you. Now."

They went out together, three sets of feet, down the hall toward the kitchen.

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