A broken Lily was far worse than the impenetrable one, and he hated it. Hated that he’d done this to her, that his absence had required her to become a woman with walls.
She rolled away, giving him her back. “I thought you were tired.”
“I am.” He dared to lean forward, propping his elbows on his knees.
A long moment of silence, then, “I told you sleeping in the chair was a bad idea.”
“Better than the floor.”
She huffed, then looked over her shoulder. “Are you planning to stay there all night?”
I’ll stay forever if you let me.“Yes.”
She shuffled, burrowing further into the blankets. “Come to bed.” Her words were barely audible, and he suspected she hoped he wouldn’t hear them.
His spine stiffened, and he battled the need to leap to his feet. “Are you sure?”
“You said you were exhausted, and you won’t sleep in that dratted chair.” She hadn’t emerged from her cocoon of linens, but each word electrified him as if she’d whispered them into his ear.
His back and knees protested when he extricated himself from said dratted chair, and he turned the blankets down, his eyes dancing over the expanse of fabric before reaching her. His wife, in her bed—theirbed, if he laid down beside her.
“Are you getting in or not? I’m getting cold.”
The petulance of her words didn’t mask their slight tremor, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around her, to swear he’d never harm her again.
Instead, he slid beneath the covers, keeping his side aligned with the edge of the bed. “Thank you for caring for my sleep,” he breathed.
A shudder ran through her. “Caring for you wasn’t the problem. It was convincing myself I shouldn’t.”
Chapter 6
“Ididnaekenthiswouldbe so bloody difficult,” Callum hissed as he dropped his needle to suck on his bleeding thumb, his string of cranberries and popped corn falling to the dining room table.
Philip suppressed his chuckle, but Archie didn’t bother.
“It’s easy,” Archie said as he reached for another handful of popcorn. “Have you ever sewn anything before?”
Marigold’s boys and puppy were driving Lady Redbourne into a tizzy with their constant running and the dog’s barking, so Archie suggested the men keep the lads occupied while she took the ladies into town for shopping. They’d repurposed the grand dining room into a makeshift workshop, and instead of crisp linens and sparkling silver and china, the table was covered with thread, sewing needles, and deep bowls of cranberries and popcorn.
Despite stuffing their mouths and pockets with popcorn, the boys quickly gave up in favor of assisting the cook with the evening’s pudding while the viscount retreated to his library, leaving the Waverly husbands to manage the task.
“Darning a hem isnae—” Callum swallowed an oath as he dropped a handful of popcorn onto the floor, and Cricket let out a happy yip as he gobbled up the mess, “—this shite. Whose idea was this?”
Ben shrugged. “It’s popular back home. Thought it would be a good diversion. Although English cranberries are much smaller than American ones.” He was a quiet one, Philip had noticed, though he’d been quick to rise to Lily’s defense the night before at dinner.
Ben leaned over to Alex. The Harvard professor had deep circles under his eyes. “Is Fern resting?”
Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping with his exhaustion. “Yes, finally. The baby has been keeping her up all hours, and with her classes starting up again, she’s been exhausted. It’s been good for her to be home.”
“You’ll be lucky if her ladyship lets you on the boat.” Archie stabbed a cranberry on a needle and pointed it in their direction. “All the Waverly women seem happy. Except Lily, but that’s—” He cut off with a choked sound, his eyes darting to Philip and quickly back to the pile of cranberries and popcorn. His cheeks pinked.
Philip shifted on his feet and concentrated on threading his needle. “Go on,” he said, as gently as he could with the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t expect to have allies beyond Timothy and James, and they were both still traveling. “What were you going to say?”
Movement around the table stilled. When Archie’s eyes met his, they held a sharp edge. “I was saying, everyone seems happy except Lily. But that’s expected.”
The bile climbed higher, and Philip strained to swallow it down. She’d been gone when he woke up with a stiff neck, sore back, and a desperate desire for coffee.Out with the horses, the ancient butler explained without bothering to meet his eye or direct him towards breakfast.
It seemed his arrival had wreaked havoc on the entire extended Waverly clan, and he would need more than a single stilted dinner conversation to put things to rights. Her family deserved an explanation as much as Lily had.
