The devil Alpha

Her father

*Evangeline*

It's late in the afternoon when I finally return home. How will I ever live with the guilt if Riverdale kills Wicky? How will I be able to look at myself in the mirror if I do nothing… knowing all that is happening?

I have an abundance of acquaintances, friends, servants, and yet sometimes I feel so alone. I have no one other than Wicky in whom I feel I can confide all that troubles me. Yet, I dare not tell Wicky everything, because my dear friend is already weighted down with her own troubles, so I carry my worries and my burdens alone.

Weary, with a heavy heart, I climb the stairs and stop outside my father’s bedchamber. Since he fell ill, I have achieved an independence that few she-wolves ever do. Without my brother here to serve as my guardian, I can do as I please and answer to no one.

Is Wicky right? Will I lose this freedom if I ever do marry? Or am I right… and no man would ever consider me?

Even as a child, I had been a bit willful. All right, I scold myself. A lot willful. My brother had called me spoiled on more than one occasion. Not that he is one to point fingers. He is the one off touring the world, having his fun, sowing his wild oats, while I am left here to tend to our father. Although to be fair, Sterling doesn’t know our father has taken ill.

After my father’s first apoplectic fit, he had still been able to talk. He told me then that I wasn’t to contact Sterling for any reason. The next fit left him unable to speak, to communicate at all. He is now simply withering away.

I take a moment to shore up my emotions. I will not add to my father’s problems by weeping for my friend, weeping for him, weeping for everything I don’t have the strength or power to change. I take a deep breath, open the door, and step inside. I am immediately hit with the stench of illness.

His nurse rises from her chair near his bed, where she has been embroidering. She curtsies.

“Miss Evangeline.” She says.

“How is he?” I ask.

“All bathed and tidied up, awaiting your afternoon visit.” She says softly.

I walk to the foot of the bed and smile down on my father. I think I see pleasure in his blue eyes, but perhaps it’s only wishful thinking on my part. “It’s a lovely day. I should have a servant carry you into the garden.”

He doesn’t react to my suggestion, other than to blink.

I wonder if he would be embarrassed… or grateful… to be carted down. It is so difficult to know what to do.

“Temperance, before you take some time for yourself, please have the servants move the chaise longue from the morning room to the garden and then send a a strong servant up to carry my father down.” I tell her.

“If I may be so bold, miss, I’m not certain his physician would agree with that action. It may do more harm than good.” She says.

Then I might have my father’s death on my conscience. Riverdale’s I could live with, but my father’s…

I sigh. “Ask his physician the next time he comes to check on the Alpha.”

“Yes, miss Evangeline.” She says.

It seems as though I can do so little to make my father comfortable.

“I will be visiting with my father for the next hour,” I tell her. “Take some time for yourself.”

“Thank you, miss Evangeline.” She says before leaving.

I sit in the chair and take my father’s hand. He moves his head only slightly to look at me. He awkwardly rubs the ring I have begun wearing on my right hand.

“I have taken to wearing Mother’s wedding ring. Is that all right?” I ask him.

He makes a sound deep in his throat. Taking a linen handkerchief from a stack on the bedside table, I wipe the spittle from the corner of his mouth.

“I wish you could tell me what you wanted.” I brush my fingers through his thinning silver hair. “I hope you’re not in pain.”

With a sigh, I sit back and lift a book from the bedside table. “Let’s see what sort of trouble Oliver and the Artful Dodger are going to get into today, shall we?”