Chapter Eighteen
Belatedly, Harbury realizedthe room had emptied of people. While he welcomed a moment of privacy, he didn’t care if they had witnesses or not. Either way, he was going to tell his wife everything he should have told her from the start.
“Cassie,” Harbury caught up both his wife’s hands and gathered them against his lips. “Good G—” He stopped himself from cursing. He sighed. “I’ve missed you, love.”
“At present, I wouldn’t mind an oath.” She smiled shyly. “Because I’m…devilishglad to see you, too.”
He didn’t know how long he stood there with a silly, stupid grin on his face.
He couldn’t help himself.
He heard the door open for a short moment before closing again. And then, a small bundle of fur bounded into the space between them with a deliriously happy bark.
“Mercy!” she exclaimed.
“You left a few things behind.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “Two things, to be precise. Two things belonging to you.”
“But I thought Mercy belonged to Lady Penningt—”
“Lady Pennington,” he interrupted, “forfeited her claim.”
From her expression, she had not missed his double meaning.
She bent down, picked up the dog, and buried her face in his fur.
“Come.” He placed his arm around her waist and led her to the settee.
They sat down together, as close as two people could be.
Her presence at his side felt like a miracle. He took in her warmth, her scent, and those things worked to mend his inner, broken places.
“The pup,” he continued, “had been a gift from Lady Pennington to her father. But instead of soothing Anderson, the pup increased his agitation. They were on their way to town in her carriage when he abruptly tossed Mercy out the window.”
“Oh! You poor thing.” Cassie kissed the pup on the forehead. “That tumble must have been horrid for you.”
“As with some of Anderson’s other actions,” Harbury continued, “I don’t think he understood the harm he would cause.”
“That man wasn’t well,” Cassie translated to Mercy. “But we’ll take good care of you from now on. You may place your full trust in us.” She turned her gaze on Harbury. “Can’t he?”
The ease, the total conviction, with which she’d said the worduscaused Harbury’s throat to thicken. “I’ve already promised him the same. Repeatedly.”
Together, they cooed over the puppy.
And somehow, though he’d been leaning toward Mercy, Harbury’s head ended up resting on his wife’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, savoring her closeness.
She turned her face, pressed her cheek against his curls and inhaled.
“Did you justsniffme?” he asked.
“Yes.” She giggled. “I missed your scent.”
“Lucky thing Adrian and I washed before coming into the parlor, then.” Could it be his scent gave her the same reassuring sense of solace as hers gave him? “What do I smell like?”
“Like home,” she replied with a soft smile.
He sat up, taking her hand in his. “Does that mean you are ready to come home with me?”
“I’d like to.” Her smile faltered. “Oh, Harbury, Iwantto…”
