Chapter 29

29

N icholas’s eyelids had become impossibly heavy, and when he accomplished the feat of prying them open … his vision had turned orange.

He took a moment to blink, trying to bring a hazy world back into focus. Yet that only served to make the orange in front of his face sharper and … furry .

Oh , for the love of Christ . That cat was sitting atop his chest.

“ Get off,” he croaked, shifting his body against his mattress. For that’s where he seemed to be: in his familiar bed at Rockliffe House , tucked beneath the counterpane.

Unfortunately for him, the weak motion—why in hell were his muscles so useless?—did nothing but make the cat reassert its position by sinking its claws deeper into the counterpane. A contented rumble began vibrating in the creature’s throat, and he scowled, acutely aware of a dull ache in both his temple and shoulder.

Marigold kept purring, untroubled by any of it, and although the animal’s intense yellow eyes drifted closed, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

He blinked again, forcing his stiff neck up from his pillow. Only to find four faces staring down at him from the side of the bed. His mother. His sister. Emily . Phoebe .

He heard a low gasp— Amelia’s , he thought. Detected the unmistakable thump of a cane.

And then, the room erupted into a chaotic flurry of noise and motion. Emily’s white skirts fluttered as she made an abrupt movement backward. Phoebe turned and began whispering to her. Amelia and his mother were exclaiming something to one another, the dowager using her cane for emphasis. As meanwhile, the cat continued its gravelly purr, pressing its paws into the counterpane as if it were kneading bread dough.

In the end, the first sound to rise above the others was the dowager’s voice, a steely timbre that hovered above his head. “ You’re awake, Rockliffe .”

The obvious statement cheered him about as much as the mound of fur that refused to vacate his chest. “ Of course I’m awake,” he grumbled, his throat so dry that it felt filled with sand. “ How would a person sleep amidst this kind of uproar?”

She let out a sharp breath, her cane pounding into the carpet. “ It’s been four days since you last opened your eyes. Do you have any idea of the alarm I felt? And for Amelia to try keeping the truth from me …”

His mother continued with her diatribe, casting an incensed look at her apparently errant daughter, although Amelia ignored it, her gaze only on him. “ Do you remember what happened?”

He dropped his head back to the pillow, closing his eyes as he tried to sort through the haze. He was in his bed at Rockliffe House , in the daylight; that much, he’d already established. However … he hadn’t climbed into bed to sleep the day away of his own volition, had he?

No , because … because the last he remembered, he’d been at Primrose Hill in the first light of dawn, preparing to fight a duel with Sir Ambrose Windham .

Except then … Phoebe’s voice had rung out. And a gunshot …

He struggled upward, mustering enough power this time to displace the cat and get himself into a semi-sitting position. Phoebe . He craned his neck, desperate to catch her eye. The blasted duel was supposed to be but a hitch before he could rush back to her at Beaumont Manor and concentrate on the search for her child. He’d promised her; she was counting on him. Yet if he’d truly been lying here at his town house, insensate, for a full four days?—

“ It’s all right.” Suddenly , their eyes locked, and in the next instant, she was at his side, tipping a cup of water to his lips. The wetness acted as such a salve to his parched throat that, as anxious as he was to question her, he accepted it without protest. In turn, she brought her face close to his, gifting him with the brightest smile. Shooting him a knowing look that made her blue-gray-green eyes sparkle. “ Everything is well.”

Did that mean … had Adolphus Clare returned with news? Good news? They had so much to discuss the minute they could be alone. But first …

From behind Phoebe , the weight of another gaze fell upon him. Emily’s . Her amber eyes were as astute as ever, staring at him like she could see below the surface. It was the sharp but unreadable look she always gave before turning as if he didn’t exist, and he couldn’t say what emotions it concealed.

“ Emily .” He managed her name, the water he’d swallowed helping him do so without rasping. Instead , it emerged almost like a question, and truthfully, he didn’t know what to say next. His attempt to provide stability for her had failed miserably, and above all, he yearned to know if she was well. However , recent experience had taught him that he was always one wrong word or gesture away from receiving the cut direct, and he wasn’t sure how he would bear lying in bed uselessly as she ran from him.

The moment stretched on as she stood, peering at him, her body unmoving besides a slight quiver in her chin.

Until all of a sudden, she flung herself onto the bed, throwing her arms about his chest in a firm embrace. “ Papa ,” she exclaimed, burying her face in the counterpane beside him, the brocade covering muffling her next words. Not so much, though, that they didn’t shoot straight to his heart. “ I was so afraid for you.”

He lifted a hand, chancing to lay it atop her back, and when she didn’t shrug him away, he let it settle. “ You needn’t be any longer, Emmy . I’m well.” His head hurt, and his counterpane was covered with more cat fur than he’d like, but those things aside, he truly meant it. In fact, having her close—a feeling he’d thought he might never know again—brought a type of contentment he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

She burrowed against his side, her grip on him refusing to slacken.

“ Mother ?” Amelia’s gentle voice drew his attention up from the sight that still felt somewhat illusory, and she flashed him a quick smile before turning to face the dowager. “ I believe we should call for the physician now.”

The dowager gave a brusque nod. “ Yes , quite right. Go ask Flynt to see to it straightaway.”

“ I require your assistance.” Amelia traipsed to the doorway, standing at the threshold of the room while fixing a pointed look upon their mother.

The dowager’s silver brows shot up and then drew together, her mouth twisting into a frown. “ For heaven’s sake,” she muttered. However , the complaint faded out at the end, and with a terse sigh, she started forward with her cane, giving in to Amelia’s not-so-subtle efforts to grant him a moment alone with his daughter.

Phoebe stirred as well, her skirts—gray, for a change—sweeping along the floor as she began to turn. He stopped her, though, with a glance at the bedside chair. Emily trusted her, seemed to thrive in her presence. And for that matter, so did he. It felt right for her to stay.

She nodded her understanding, and as his mother and sister retreated into the corridor, she took a seat. Keeping silent but giving him a grin that lit her eyes as she peered upon the scene in his bed.

After the lengthy period of detachment, he was willing to stay like this—simply reflecting on his gratitude—for as long as Emily needed. God help him, he was even willing to tolerate Marigold , who’d settled on his other side. But after another minute, a choked sound emerged from the counterpane, and his daughter’s narrow back shuddered beneath his palm.

“ Em ?” He tipped his head downward, and sure enough, the sound came again, an unmistakable sniffle followed by a gasp.

“ Don’t cry.” He rubbed her back, wishing the gesture somehow had the power to take her tears away. “ Everything’s going to be all right now. I promise.”

Phoebe reached for her, too, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze. Nevertheless , Emily’s thin body continued to shake with the force of her sobs.

“ It’s all right,” he repeated helplessly. “ Everything is all r?—"

“ I’m sorry, Papa !” At last, her tear-stained face popped up, the words bursting out from her trembling lips. “ I’m sorry I was so horrid to you for all this time. I didn’t mean it. It’s just that I thought … I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore. Not after …”

She buried her face once more, leaving him to stare at Phoebe in horror, her open-mouthed shock mirroring his own. Emily believed he wouldn’t want her? The suggestion cut like a blade. How could such a misconception have come about? How could he have allowed it to come about and then linger?

Very gently, he slid his fingers under her chin, coaxing her to look at him. “ That could never be true, sweetheart. Ever .” He shook his head vehemently, not giving a damn for the ache. “ What made you think such a thing?”

She blinked, her lashes spiky and wet against her pale skin, and took in a deep, wavering breath. “ I overheard Mama talking to Mr . Mowbray when we were getting ready to board the ship. He asked if she was certain there wouldn’t be trouble with you if she took me to India , and she said no because … because I wasn’t really your child.”

The knife in his chest twisted deeper, the sheen in her eyes doing damn unnerving things behind his own eyelids. A fiery pit blasted open in his stomach. How could Cecilia have been so bloody careless with her words when she knew Emily always listened? How could she have led their daughter to believe something so untrue? How could she herself have believed it?

Yet Cecilia was gone, and there was little purpose to hurling his anger at her. As much as it may sting, perhaps he also needed to look at himself. To consider the portion of the blame that lay on his shoulders, for all the times he’d run off to Foxhill alone, consumed by his misery.

Well , that ended here. He couldn’t erase his mistakes from the past, but he could spend his future making up for them. Starting by vanquishing Emily’s misbelief and ingraining the truth so she never doubted it again for as long as she lived.

He held the sharp outline of her face within his palms. The face that made every bit of deceit and unhappiness in his marriage worth it. “ You’ve been mine since the day you were born. Mine under the law, but, more importantly, mine in my heart. I love you, Emmy . Nothing in the world could change that.”

He realized that he was breathing harder, that his pulse had become a beat in his head. When was the last time he’d made a declaration like that? Never . He should really do it more often. Because yes, it left him defenseless, but there was also something freeing about taking what he held bottled inside and letting it out. In giving her the truth she deserved to hear.

She pressed her mouth closed, and when she opened it to speak, her voice was low. Hesitant . “ Do you truly mean it?”

“ Yes ,” he said emphatically, leaning forward to press a kiss to the wispy dark hair at her crown. “ Always .”

For a moment, the bedchamber was silent, for she gave him nothing but her shrewd amber stare. And then, the best thing happened. She smiled. A small, lopsided grin before she flopped back to the counterpane and snuggled against him once more. “ I love you, too, Papa .”

He wasn’t quite prepared for how the words would hit. For how his throat would tighten and his chest ache, and still, he would recognize the feeling as joy.

He turned to the bedside chair to find that Phoebe’s eyes had begun shining, and she gave them a brisk wipe before carefully rising to her feet. “ I’m going to give you a moment,” she murmured, reaching for the pitcher on his bedside table. Her lips curving upward. “ Let me go refill this. I’ll return soon.”

The look she gave them as she departed said everything—that she understood his happiness. Emily’s happiness. That she felt it, too.

He watched as the last bit of her hem disappeared into the corridor, his mind turning with all the things they needed to discuss. First , an assurance that she had hope of a happy outcome with her daughter as well. And then … perhaps he and Emily could also share in her joy. Like a family …

A nudge against his elbow drew his attention downward, and funnily enough, Marigold’s nose pressing into his sleeve didn’t provoke him to flinch or curse. For once, the creature’s presence seemed—dare he say?—tolerable, and he let her be, instead focusing back on Emily , whose eyelids had grown heavy.

Make no wonder with everything she’d gone through today. The news she’d overheard at Beaumont Manor , the journey she’d taken, the matters they’d discussed. The resolution they’d reached.

He stroked her hair, watching as her eyelids closed fully. Feeling the months of distance and animosity melt away until all that remained was truth. Trust . Love . Perhaps someday, she would seek a deeper conversation regarding her parentage. However , his message would remain just the same as right now: she was his daughter in every way that mattered.

“ Papa ?” Her quiet question seemed to come from afar, making him vaguely aware that exhaustion was closing in on him, too. “ Are you in love with Miss Windham ?”

His drooping eyelids flew open, leading him to discover that, yet again, he’d become the subject of her scrutinizing gaze. And here he thought she’d fallen asleep.

“ You’re too clever for your own good,” he mumbled, the words nearly tripping over each other, and Christ , why had he gotten so hot all of a sudden?

She pushed herself up on an elbow, arching a quizzical brow. “ Does that mean yes?”

He gave a half-grin in spite of himself, sinking deeper against his pillows with a long exhale. It was no easy feat to conceal anything from someone so observant, so why attempt it? Why deny what became plainer to him with each passing day? “ Yes , I believe it does.”

Emily paused. Nodded once. Then dropped her head back to the counterpane as if she hadn’t just posed a question of monumental importance. “ Good . I’m very fond of her as well. Will you get married?”

He swallowed, refusing to let his response tangle this time. However , there was little he could do about the fact that his heart was fluttering. Fluttering , like he was a ridiculous lovestruck boy fraught with nerves.

He supposed there was naught to do but embrace it. To answer the question with the same bluntness Emily had used to deliver it. With the truth. “ Perhaps . If she’ll have me.”

Emily’s eyes had closed again. Her slight smile, though, didn’t fade. “ She will.”