Blackstone and Broken Things

Chapter 8

Nathan stood outside the dining room, more nervous than he could ever recall being in his life. It had taken longer than he had intended to come to a decision, not in the matter of how he would introduce himself to his daughter, as her friend or her father. He was her father. He would not deny it, and it was time for him to start being one. No, what had taken him so long to determine was how he would go about addressing any questions she had for him. Which, given Anabell's warning, he was sure there would be many. After leaving Anabell's study, he found himself with a great deal to consider. Not that the days prior had allowed for anything less than his full deliberation.

Ever since arriving at Blackstone, it had been one unfortunate discovery after another. All of which cast him in the worst possible light. Not that he could blame anyone but himself for the outcome. All the attention and care he had given to his life as Nathan Hoss, the reckless righthand of the Black Knight, seemed a selfish indulgence now. Which it had been. He had chosen to leave the life of a Belgrey behind him, and all the pain and torment that name had caused him. At the time, it seemed like a wonderful idea. Now, he was learning that perhaps the only good that had come from his inaction was most likely the vexation of his father. If he had just once cast a glance back to his roots, he would have noticed.

No, he would not delude himself into thinking such a thing. Nor would he allow himself to fall further down the hole he had so blindly and enthusiastically dug himself into. What was done was done, and now he needed to navigate the massive cavern of mistakes he had made and try to find a way out while avoiding any further pitfalls, starting with making himself known to his daughter.

Taking a breath, Nathan straightened his coat and entered the dining room.

He was late. A good half hour late, with no excuse save that it had taken him longer than he had thought to figure out the course of action he would take. Which he had finally decided would be complete and total honesty, no matter how painful. It was better Lillian learned the truth from him now and in its entirety than later on. As cliche as it may be, the truth always had a way of wiggling itself out and always at the worst possible time.

Anabell sat at the head of the table, Lillian forlornly to her right, pushing something about on her plate. Thankfully, no one else was dining with them tonight.

With a look of surprise, Anabell finally noticed him, the resigned sigh that escaped her lips, capturing her daughter's attention as she looked from her mother to Nathan. Her previously miserable expression transformed into a look of pure happiness that left Nathan feeling like the bastard he was sure she would condemn him as after this meal.

"You came!" Lillan all but squealed from her seat.

"Ah, Yes," Nathan replied rather weakly—the surety of his decision wavering as he took in her overjoyed face.

"Well, since you have decided to join us," Anabell spook, rising from her chair to formally introduce Nathan to his daughter. "Lillian, I would like to introduce you to—"

"Nathanial Belgrey, the 5th Earl of Clearshire and my father." The girl announced brightly. Leaving both Anabell and himself gapping like fish tossed fresh from the water.

"How—" Anabell began, the single word coming out as more of a strangled moan than a question.

"Truly, Mama." The girl remarked, shaking her head with a child's exasperation. "Grandfather's portrait hangs in the parlor. Papa looks just like him. Somewhat darker, but still." She waved. "May I call you Papa, or would you rather I address you as Father?" Lillian blinked, turning her attention back to Nathan.

"Ah, whichever you prefer," Nathan replied with a shake of his head—trying desperately to find his tongue.

"Oh, wonderful! Papa, it is." she clapped her hands. "And you may call me Sweet or Flower, or both. It is what Mama calls me. Or Lily."