Edward took off his hat and held it to his chest. ‘I’m sorry, Belle.’
Belle’s face crumpled, her features clouded by tears. ‘No.’ She rammed her hands against her ears, rocking from side to side. ‘No, no, no.’
He moved to take her in his arms, but she slapped him away.
‘You were there,’ she said, her eyes wide and accusing. ‘Why didn’t you protect Luke? You should have protected him.’
Edward braced himself as Belle rained down blows on his arms, his chest. The pain went straight to his heart.
Daniel sprang forward and wrapped his daughter in a tight embrace. ‘Shush, my darling, shhh.’ He held her tighter, his own eyes filling with tears. ‘Edward did what he could for Luke – I’m sure of it.’
Daniel looked to him and Edward’s mouth went dry. He licked his parched lips. ‘Of course I did, sir.’
The lie choked his throat. He could have stopped this. He could have shielded Luke, but instead he’d urged Molly to betray him. Urged her to tell her story, reveal Luke’s true identity – even promised her a reward. He’d caused the man who saved his life to flee like a hunted animal, even providing the hounds. He’d killed Luke as surely as the rockfall had. If he could take it back, he would.
Another part of him felt a shameful liberation – free of his father’s shadow and with Belle all to himself. Everything he’d ever wanted, and he bore no public blame for any part of it. Private guilt over Luke’s death? That was another thing. It had stalked him during the long trek home from the ranges. It ambushed him at every turn, making him doubt his worth as a man as efficiently as his father ever had.
Elizabeth sat Belle down, dabbing her brow with a damp handkerchief and insisting she take some brandy. Edward’s eyes shifted to Belle’s waist. A little thicker than before, perhaps; evidence of the child she carried – not his child. At times he’d struggled with this knowledge, wondering if he could truly care for another man’s baby. Then it came to him: a way to atone for his guilt and make up for his own loveless childhood at the same time. He would raise Luke’s child to know nothing but approval and affection. For every insult his father had given him, Edward would give encouragement. For every criticism, praise. For every frown, a smile. The child would flourish in the warm glow of his affection. This would be his tribute to Luke. This would be his atonement.
He looked at Belle, at her tear-drenched face and stricken eyes, and felt a surge of hope so powerful it made him tremble. In time, her grief would pass. In time they would build a future together, a bright future filled with love.