Concordia put her head in her hands. It seemed impossible that the journal she just read could have come from the father she’d adored. The man she’d known had been a mild-mannered scholar, content to aspire to no other ambition than successfully completing an obscure translation and debating key points of philosophy with other scholars. She had never seen him angry or lacking self-control.
But this man, on these pages? Arrogant, devious, quick to anger? Riddled with guilt at the end, yes, but was that enough? His actions had caused another great pain, and consigned him to a life as a cripple. And what of Red’s wife and his “pretty little daughter?” What had happened to them? Had they been reduced to a life of deprivation and want?
Concordia looked up. Miss Phillips was watching her
