Page 47 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"Indeed." Luke's voice took on an edge. "He was rather absorbed in his cards. Barely acknowledged me when I greeted him. I trust you haven't given him cause for concern?"

"Father, please," Harriet interjected again. "Can't you see Elizabeth isn't well?"

"She'll be less well if she fails in her duties." Luke reached for the wine himself, pouring a generous measure. "Come now, Elizabeth. Surely you understand the importance of this. The earl?—"

"Cecil is gone."

The words burst from her like water through a broken dam, hanging in the suddenly still air of the dining room. The servant who had been clearing the dishes froze mid-reach,then quietly retreated from the room at Luke's sharp glance. Harriet's face had gone pale, while their father sat unnaturally still, his expression darkening like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

"What do you mean, gone?" Luke's voice was deadly quiet.

Elizabeth's hands trembled in her lap, but she forced them still. Years of practice at maintaining composure in the face of society's scrutiny served her well now. "He left. A week ago."

"Left?" The wine glass hit the table with enough force to make the liquid slosh dangerously close to the rim. "What did you do?"

"I didn't?—"

"You must have done something!" His voice rose with each word. "No man abandons his wife without cause. Did you refuse him? Drive him away with your stubborn pride?"

Something inside Elizabeth snapped. She rose from her chair, her napkin falling forgotten to the floor. The movement was sharp, decisive—so unlike her usual careful grace that Harriet gasped.

"Is that what you truly think of me?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "That I would deliberately sabotage my own marriage?"

"What else am I to think?" Luke stalked to the window, then whirled back to face her. His reflection fractured across the glass panes behind him, multiplying his fury. "The earl is a man of means and position. He married you despite that hideous scar, and this is how you repay his charity? By driving him away with your stubbornness? You are saying he’s gone?”

"Yes, he's gone!" Elizabeth's voice cracked. Her chest felt too tight, each breath a struggle. The weight of the past week, of all the sleepless nights and tearful dawns, pressed down upon her. "Just like you were gone when Mother needed you most. When she lay in her sickbed, begging for a kind word, for any sign that you still cared!"

Luke recoiled as if she'd struck him. "How dare you?—"

"How dare I? How dare you!" The words poured out of her like a flood breaking through a dam. "You want to know why I never wanted children? Because I watched you treat Mother like she was nothing more than a vessel for an heir. I watched you ignore her, belittle her, break her spirit piece by piece until there was nothing left!"

"Elizabeth!" Luke's face had gone purple with rage. "You forget yourself?—"

"No, Father. For once in my life, I remember exactly who I am." She pressed her palms flat against the table to stop their trembling. "I am my mother's daughter. And I promised myself I would never?—"

"Enough!" Luke's fist crashed down on the table, making the crystal glasses jump and chime. "You speak of things you don't understand. Your mother?—"

"Was the kindest, most loving person I've ever known," Elizabeth cut in, her voice thick with unshed tears. "And you couldn't even give her the courtesy of your presence in her final days."

Harriet had risen too, hovering uncertainly between them. "Please, both of you?—"

"Stay out of this, Harriet," Luke snapped. "Your sister seems to have forgotten that it was her marriage to the earl that saved you from ruin. Or have you forgotten that scandal as well, Elizabeth?"

"I haven't forgotten anything," Elizabeth said quietly. "I remember every slight, every cruel word, every time you made Mother cry. And now you stand there, demanding an heir, just as you demanded one from her until it killed her."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the birds outside seemed to have fallen quiet, as if holding their breath along with the occupants of the room. Luke stood rigid, his face a mask of fury and something else—something that might have been shame, if Elizabeth didn't know better.

"You have no idea what being a parent means," Luke said, his voice dangerously low. The morning sunlight caught the silver athis temples, making him look older, more bitter than ever. "The sacrifices required?—"

"Sacrifices?" Elizabeth's laugh was hollow. "Like sacrificing your wife's happiness for your pride? Or sacrificing your daughter's confidence for your obsession with a male heir?" She met his gaze steadily, refusing to back down. "No, Father. I understand sacrifice all too well. I watched Mother sacrifice everything for you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of her to give.”

For a moment, her father seemed to age before her eyes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. Then his jaw tightened, and he straightened to his full height. "I see your time with the earl has made you forget your place," he said coldly. "Perhaps when he returns, he'll remind you of it."

"He's not coming back," Elizabeth whispered, all the fight suddenly draining from her. She sank back into her chair, her legs no longer able to support her. "He made that quite clear."

The room felt suffocating now, the afternoon sun that streamed through the windows doing nothing to warm the chill that had settled in her bones. The remains of their lunch lay forgotten on the table, a stark reminder of how quickly everything had shattered.

"Nonsense," Luke scoffed, though something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps. "Every man desires an heir. You must have misunderstood?—"

---