“You knew I wanted children,” she continued. Her lungs seized as though they were reaching out to grab the words and shove them back inside. “I wanted a family, like my sisters have, like I had. I wanted Christmases, laughter and love, and so did you.”
He lifted a hand towards her cheek but paused, grasping Calpurnia’s reins instead. “I did.” He held her gaze and refused to release it as he saw past the mask she kept in place, the one that apparently hid nothing, not from him. His jaw tensed and released as he rolled his lips between his teeth, then spoke in a rush. “I wanted that too.”
“You stole our future.” The fire of her fury was gone, replaced by aching, soul-scorching sadness, pain that scraped from the deepest recesses of her body. “You made a choice for me without even asking me or explaining. I could never be happy, always wanting you. And the worst part was I could never hate you, not entirely. Not when I still—”
Not when I still loved you.
She didn’t say the words, didn’t need to because he heard them, anyway. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, so close the wool of his greatcoat nearly brushed her cloak. “It’s not too late.” His dark eyes searched her face. “We could—”
She shook her head and spoke in a whisper. “How can we have a family when I don’t know if you’ll still be here tomorrow?”
The words slashed through the air like a crack in the ice, splintering and plunging them both into dark, frigid reality. Her chest ached, as if eight years of pain had been purged and left her peeled open and wanting.
When he pulled in a breath, the shudder rattled from his body to hers. “I can’t prove something I won’t do. I can only continue to be there for you, when you need me and when you don’t.”
Therein lay the problem. Could she trust him, or would she spend the remainder of her life teetering on the precipice of fear, on the knife’s edge of worry that he’d be gone the next morning? She wouldn’t face a lifetime of waiting to hear the door open when he returned, or praying for a note from him to arrive. The pitying looks from her sisters, lying to her mother…
Explaining to their children why their father never came home.
“Lily.” He cupped her cheek, and her wandering gaze snapped to his. “I’m not the same man you fell in love with. That man was broken and could never be the husband you deserved, couldn’t love you the way you needed.” He leaned closer. “But the man I am now, I won’t leave you. I know what it means to stand up to fear, and I will go to battle every day for you. For us, for our family. I only need you to give me the chance.”
She wanted to refuse him, to protect herself from more pain. But what else would she lose if she sent him away?
“I want—” she started, but the words she almost said frightened her into silence.
I want to forgive you.
I want to try.
“I want to go home,” she finally whispered, sounding regrettably like a small child but unable to muster any more gravitas.
Whether she meant Boar’s Hill or the estate in Lancashire, or something entirely different, not a place but a time in their lives before he’d broken them, she did not know.
Chapter 12
Philiptriednottoworry as Lily slept through supper. She’d been drained and raw but held her poise when they rode back to Boar’s Hill, silent as the wind rushed around them and bruise-colored clouds hung low in the night sky.
But when he’d led her to their room and helped her shed her cloak and jacket, her boots and breeches, her knees had buckled and her eyelids drooped shut. He’d carried her to bed with a promise of rest and a meal after she awoke.
And hours later, well past the time when the viscount and viscountess had bid them goodnight and the remaining members of the household had gathered in the parlor, she still hadn’t descended from their room.
He’d put her through so much that night, exposed so many wounds she wanted to remain sealed. And while he was grateful she’d finally opened up to him, had he pushed her too far? Philip told himself not to panic, but he wasn’t listening to his own assurances.
“Should we wait for Lily?” Marigold asked him as the siblings and their spouses formed a circle around the low table in the darkened parlor, but he shook his head.
“She was tired after the ride into Oxford,” he said, hoping she wasn’t using that as an excuse to hide from him again. She’d let her walls tumble in his presence and trusted him to ease the harm he’d caused her. But if she retreated now, he didn’t know if he would have time to make things right before she sent him away.
The door swung open, and Timothy entered, balancing a wide, shallow serving bowl. James trailed behind him, wielding a bottle of brandy.
“Are you ready?” Timothy’s mouth curled into a mischievous grin, and a collective shiver of excitement spread through the group. He laid the bowl in the center of the table, and everyone inched closer before kneeling to be within reach.
“Can ye explain the rules again?” Callum asked. “For Ben, no’ for me, of course.”
Ben scowled, and Violet bumped her shoulder against Callum. “It’s simple. You want to get as many raisins from the bowl as you can without burning yourself too badly.”
“Is there a prize?” Archie’s eyes were greedy as Timothy poured brandy over the plump fruit.
“A prize for what?”
