She could not bring herself to look at him, but she felt him go very still.
“Nonsense.” His voice was low, firm. “Viola, look at me. I will say this only once.”
She lowered her hands slowly. She braced for coldness, for condemnation. But there was only concern in those striking eyes of his, the very ones she had described so extensively in her novels. The ones that had led to his downfall.
“I have said it before and I say it now. I will not divorce you. Not now. Not ever. Aside from the fact that no grounds for a legal separation exist, there is nothing you could ever do to alter my mind. Do you understand?” He held her gaze until she nodded, then scowled and pressed his handkerchief into her hand.
“Oh.” She wiped her cheeks, feeling rather foolish.
“Secondly. Regarding my political career.” He released her foot and shifted to face her more fully. “I want you to understand that I had every intention of staying to fight, of remaining in office. But the moment Penworthy spewed his filth in the chamber, everything changed.”
“What do you mean?” She pressed the damp handkerchief into a tight ball.
“He rather helped me make this decision, so I suppose I ought to be grateful. Staying in my position would have meant regular travel to Ireland. You would have had to remain here alone or accompany me to Dublin. The former would have separated us for half the year. The latter would have meant our child would be born there.”
His jaw tightened. “I won’t have it. The residence in Ireland is comfortable enough, but the situation is volatile. There is political unrest, and fevers regularly sweep through the city. Life there is grim. I will not subject you or our child to such conditions. I want our child born here. Safely. At Westwood Hall. And I wanted to be here and not away in Ireland when it happens.”
The weight that had pressed so heavily upon her chest began, at last, to ease. “Are you saying that you resigned because our child is on the way, not because of the scandal?”
He shook his head. “You are not responsible for my resignation, Viola. Nor is the book. And while I grant that a scandal of this nature does not reflect well on my character, that would only signify if I intended to stand for election.”
“But you were so withdrawn when we arrived. You hardly spoke to me. You locked yourself away in the study for days. I feared the worst.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, in a familiar gesture that was at once restless and almost agitated. “I know. And for that, I must apologise. I needed time alone to wrestle with myown demons. My life changed radically and without warning. One moment I was Chief Secretary, and the next I was not. I felt adrift.” He paused, as though the admission cost him something. “Unmoored. I am not proud of how I handled it.”
He drew her onto his lap, and she went willingly, tucking herself against his chest.
“What will you do now?”
“I shall have an alarming amount of time on my hands. Perhaps I’ll take up gardening.” He glanced around the room with a critical eye. “Or interior architecture. This place is a mausoleum. It needs thorough improvement. And we shall need a nursery.”
“A nursery. Yes.” She hesitated, then pressed on. This needed saying. “But Sebastian, I would rather not have it at the far end of the house, so removed from everything. From us.” She swallowed. “And I have not been sleeping well in Nana’s room.”
That bedroom where the old woman had died. Where they had married, quite by accident, nine years ago.
“It is too isolated. Too lonely. Too far from the rest of the house. Too far from you.” Then she added quickly, “And I daresay it’s haunted by some Elizabethan ghost.”
He was quiet for a moment, and she felt him working through her meaning. Then he nodded slowly. “The doctor said that you needed much rest, so I thought it was best to give you an entire suite on your own. But if you feel lonely, there is only one solution then. We renovate the adjoining rooms. Put the nursery there.”
“And where am I to sleep in the meantime?” She traced a button on his waistcoat, not quite meeting his eyes.
“In my room, obviously,” he said, rather gruffly, gathering her to him.
She smiled against his shoulder. “What an excellent solution, Mr Fane.”
His arm tightened around her. “I have my moments.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The very next morning,an elegant, crested carriage sped up the driveway to Westwood Hall with such haste that the gravel flew in all directions. It stopped in front of the entrance; the horses steaming. The door flew open, and a gentleman emerged, briskly ascending the staircase to the house.
“The Viscount of Penderyn has arrived, sir,” the butler announced, while Sebastian was in the middle of being shaved by his valet.
Sebastian jerked his head so suddenly that Hawkins nearly nicked him on the cheek. “What!”
“He appears to be most impatient, and it took me much persuasion to keep him from following me to your bedroom. Would you like me to serve him breakfast while you dress?”
Sebastian dried his face quickly. “Yes. No. I’ll meet him right away.” He pulled on his banyan and tied the belt. “Let Lady Viola sleep.”
