“I also owe you an apology,” Hal said. “I misled you. I knew about your blindness and took advantage of that.”
“You wanted companionship and acceptance. I reacted out of fear and bigotry, exactly what you hoped to avoid.” Oscar waved a hand, as if dismissing the apology. “They are not the same offenses.”
Hal grew weary of this. So many emotions. So many unintended offenses. So much talking in circles.
“I accept your apology,” Hal said.
“You are gracious. May I ask you two questions?”
“You’ve never asked permission to interrogate me before.”
Oscar’s lips twitched, amused. “Is it true what Emma told us? You were the vampire’s captive?”
“That is true.”
“For how long?”
“Is that your second question?” Hal asked.
“No. Ignore that. It was a subquestion, but I will not waste your good humor in answering.”
“A long time. More than a century.” Hal was reluctant to share the exact number of years?—
“You are so old! We must be children to you.”
—For that reason.
“My kind ages slowly. I was kept unconscious for much of that time.”
“That is fascinating. How?—”
“I do not wish to discuss the particulars,” Hal said, weariness in his tone. He would delve into the details for Emma if she asked, but only her. He would not make an exhibition of his pain for the curious.
“Yes, of course. Now, my second question.” Oscar leaned forward and asked, “What are your intentions with my daughter?”
“She is everything,” he answered without hesitation.
Oscar leaned back in his chair. “That is fortunate. In truth, I considered you a good match to Emma. You are gentle and have a philosophical bend. It is a good balance to her bluntness and practicality. Now then, have you read the Longchamp?”
“I have. I was not impressed.”
“Longchamp is considered the luminary of his generation.”
“I found it rather sentimental,” Hal confessed. So many poems with flowers.
“It’s derivative rubbish, but that daffodil poem is in every grammar school textbook, so no one questions its merits. As an approach to literature, I think that isshortsighted.” Oscar paused, his brows raised as if expecting a reaction.
“Did you… did you make a joke about your blindness?”
“Yes!” He tossed his hands in the air, as if exasperated. “So many opportunities for quality puns and no one will so much as utter the wordblindin my presence. It is vexing.”
Chapter Twenty
Emma
Mistletoe Farm
Hal was toobig a secret to keep. They had a week. She knew it was a matter of time before the angry mob turned up, but she hoped.