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The earl turned back to Marcus, but only because she had seen the Duchess attempting to murder him with her pupils. He let out a resigned breath and nodded. "Very well."

Terryn linked arms with her father, helping him walk steadily towards the dining room. He felt so frail and light, as if he had wasted away while she was gone. She found herself in a state of self-loathing, furious at how she had allowed herself to forget about him. She didn't know what to say to him and instead walked with him in silence. It was nice to be back with him, but she wished that the circumstances were different.

By the time they arrived in the dining room, Terryn could tell that her father was in no way close to recovery. She helped him to his seat, taking the one next to him. She glanced at Marcus for a brief moment, but a cold glare from the duchess, which she had a feeling was directed at the old earl as opposed to herself, made her turn back to face the poor old man, who stayed silent even though he caught the old woman's fury. "My lady..." She paused, unsure of what she should say. Should she defend her father, apologize for him, or just try to set things right through some alternate means.

Terryn's eyes flashed to her husband, looking at him desperately for help. She hadn't been conditioned to take on the Duchess, a most formidable of foes, and in her current state, she wasn't ready to learn. "My lady, please. My father is just in mourning. Outliving a second wife and thinking that he's lost his daughter is hard on a man." She accented the word thinking if only to subtly emphasize to him that at the very least that part wasn't worth moping about over. He obviously didn't catch it though, since he was staring blankly at his place setting with the same dog tired expression as when he sat down. "Of course, the Duchess is only trying to help, Father. You have three people here who wish only for you to feel better."

The Earl glanced up at his daughter momentarily, his weepy eyes locking on her face. "You look so much like your mother." He sighed, slowly scraping his chair back and trying to struggle to his feet.

"Papa...come now." Terryn placed a hand on his arm, easing him back into his chair. She leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Do you really want the Duchess to send her hounds out after you? I daresay that she is getting closer and closer to being so inclined."

"I think I would enjoy that." Her father frowned, his quiet voice lowering a step more. "I would be glad to let them tear me apart. It is not as though I have a reason to wish otherwise. Losing two wives, two sons, and now my only daughter. This is too much."

Terryn's eyes narrowed. "Father, you insult me. I am not lost, and I shudder to think that I resemble anything of a corpse. I may be pale but that is no excuse to label me as the walking dead." She locked eyes with him for a brief but meaningful moment before whispering to him again. "And as long as I have a breath left, I will not leave you. I promise."

The Earl sighed, but turned back to the table as the stewards brought out the wine. "I suppose perhaps I shall have some..." His voice still weary, he shakily held his glass out to be filled.

The earl made no slow task out of draining his cup and had the steward refilling it before he had time to move on. It may not have made him feel better, but it lent strength to his tongue. "And what, my young lord, do you call that escapade that you two returned from yesterday? I was not there to give my daughter away, and thus you stole her."

"Father..." Terryn looked a little cross at this recent behaviour. Generally he had better sense than this. Of course, generally he was not steeped in grief and drowning himself in wine without food to temper it. "Father that isn't fair-"

"It's plenty fair, Terryn!" The earl's eyes narrowed as he jabbed a shaking finger at Marcus. "You stole my daughter, now admit it." He sat back, frowning as he held his cup up, waiting for more wine.

"She is my daughter, and you threw tradition right out the window." The earl looked very angry that there was no more wine to be had, and even more mad that he was having this argument. "I didn't get to wish her off or give her my blessing or anything. And I don't want to think about how many times you've gone and...defiled her!"

"Father!" Terryn had had quite enough. She stood up from the table, glaring at the entire party before storming off towards the bedroom.

"See what you did?" The earl slouched in his seat, gripping the wine to his chest as if it was some precious treasure that was coveted by the other two.

Terryn thankfully made it back up to the room without showing that anything drastic was amiss. When she got inside, however, she flopped onto the bed in a very undignified fashion and gripped her pillow to her chest. She didn't look up as the door opened; she knew who was there. Nobody else was young enough to have reached her so quickly. "Leave me...I'm sure my father would not approve of you here." There was a scathing tone in her voice, though who it was directed at was rather vague.

The earl remained silent. He didn't want to have to defend himself, or admit that he might be wrong. Besides, what he said was the truth. He had wanted to give Terryn away in a nice, proper, lavish ceremony. Eventually he had come to realize that she might never marry, and he had come to terms with it in a way. But this, no. This wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Marcus had gone and swept her off her feet and would probably leave her anyway once he got bored. It was his way, after all. "Oh please, Emily. Don't pretend that you're happy with these arrangements." It was an odd thing for him to say; usually this conversation happened the other way around.

Terryn's answer came quickly enough. "I didn't." She sniffled, during her best to hold back her tears as she shifted herself, letting her head rest in Marcus's lap. "I did not know that he would react in such a manner. But he is right. I should have had him there... " She shut her eyes tightly, trying to keep them from welling up, but it did no use. She sucked in a breath as a few droplets formed in her eyes and ran down onto the sheets.

"I can..." The earl set his glass down, nearly breaking it with the force he used. "This was supposed to be the last thing we had together. And now it's gone. I was going to give Lillianna's wedding ring to Marcus to present to her..." He shook his head, his momentary alcohol-fueled rage now subsiding. "I just wanted that last moment with my little girl, and now I never will."