“You don’t really feel that way,” Drakon said brusquely. “Or you wouldn’t be trying so hard to help him now.”

“I guess part of me keeps hoping that if he returns, he can fix this … salvage something. Branson, you know, is determined to see all the investors paid back—”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know, but Branson can’t escape his name. Women can marry and take a new surname. But Branson’s a man. He’ll be one of those hated Copelands forever.”

“Someday people will forget. There will be other news that will become more urgent and compelling. There will be disasters and tragedies that will eventually cover this scandal, burying it.”

Just as the volcano had buried Pompeii.

Morgan’s gaze drifted slowly across the columns and walls and the sunken garden, feeling the emptiness, hearing the silence. Everything was so still here, and yet once this villa had bustled with life, with the comings and goings of the family and its household servants and pets. And all that activity and laughter and anger, all the fears and needs and dreams, ended that August day, and for hundreds of years this city lay buried beneath layers of ash and soil, grass and the development of new towns. New construction. New lives. New dreams.

“Come,” Drakon said, putting his hand on her bare arm, his touch light, but steadying. “Let’s walk. This place is making you sad, and I didn’t bring you here to be sad. I brought you here to inspire you.”

“I am inspired, and moved. Gives one perspective … and certainly a great deal for me to be thankful for.” She flashed Drakon an unsteady smile, allowing him to steer her from the garden and back to the street. “Like life. And air. And sunlight.”

“Good girl. Count your blessings. Because you have many, you know. You have your health, and your creativity, and your brother and your sisters—”

“And you,” she said, catching his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You’ve been here for me, and have hired Rowan to help rescue Dad. I am so grateful—”

“Please don’t thank me.”

“Then let me at least apologize, because I am sorry, Drakon, I am so, so sorry for what my father did, and deeply ashamed, too.”

“You didn’t do it, love. You aren’t responsible.”

“But he’s my father.”

“And maybe he didn’t know that Amery was just depositing all that money into his own account. Maybe he had no idea. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we wait to judge and try him, until he is back, and he can answer the charges, answer everyone’s questions?”

Her heart surged, a little rush of hope, and she turned quickly to face him. “Do you really think he could be innocent? Do you think—” And then she abruptly broke off when she saw Drakon’s face.

He didn’t think her father was innocent. He still despised her father. Drakon was merely trying to soften the blow for her. Make her disillusionment and pain more bearable.