Marguerite’s heart thumped painfully. She gave the beautiful child a small smile as they sat to enjoy the treat.

Away from the family, away from the yelling, away from the festivities that now seemed like a fraud. How could a grown man hurl such obscene words in front of an innocent child? No matter her heritage, she hadn’t asked to be born. Her parentage wasn’t her choice. To scorn a precious little one was more than she could bear.

It brought back too many memories of her own grandfather’s displeasure of her. Not because she was of mixed birth, but simply because she had the audacity to be born a girl rather than the hoped for heir.

Her eyes met the azure blue of Verity’s gaze. In that moment a bond was made and sealed. Please, Lord, give me the words to help ease her hurt.

“What does half-breed mean?” Verity’s white teeth showed for an instant before they sank into the fragrant gingerbread.

Marguerite winced. “It’s something grandfathers say when they’ve been mad for a very long time.”

“Who’s he mad at?”

A good question, that. “I’m not sure he remembers anymore.”

Verity nodded sagely as she swung her legs under the table. As if remembering her manners, she straightened her posture. “I don’t think he likes me at all.”

“I pray he’s given a chance to get to know you before he makes that decision. Now that I’ve gotten to spend some time with you, I like you very much.”

The door flung open causing Marguerite to jump up in alarm. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Griffin.”

“Thank you for your kindness to my daughter. Verity, prepare yourself. We’re leaving at once.”

“Yes, Father.” Sadness hovered in those eyes so like Griffin’s.

“Please, Griffin. Can this not be worked out?”

Griffin shook his head. “Not until my father wills it. He’s still the same, reminding me of all the reasons I left in the first place. Maybe I shouldn’t have returned.”

Marguerite laid a pale hand on his arm. “I pray that God will work on his heart. Do you insist on leaving tonight?”

“I have little choice.” Griffin glanced at Verity then back at her.

“My father would consider me most rude if I did not offer you the hospitality of Willowford Hall.”
 

Contributed by Pamela James
www.pamela-james.com