Chapter 21
I must have packed and unpacked my valise a thousand times already. Truly, all I need to take with me is my portrait of Henry. Besides that, you are all I need.
The following morning when Leah woke up, Sebastian was gone. She fought a sense of disappointment as she sat in the middle of the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. She remembered waking up several times during the night and having him there beside her, the comfort and warmth of his arms. While some of her fear and doubts were still present, he’d made it possible to believe in herself a little more. He hadn’t used her, but gave her pleasure without seeking his own. He’d then offered her comfort, when it must have cost him dearly to lie beside her, aching with need.
Sebastian.
Leah flopped back on the bed, turning her head toward the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. She smiled.
A knock sounded at the door, and Leah hurriedly pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Enter,” she called.
A maid came in, balancing a tray against her hip. “Good morning, milady. His lordship has sent breakfast to you, as he’s already eaten.” She waited for Leah to sit up, then set the tray before her. “And I’m to give you this as well,” she said, handing Leah a note.
“Thank you,” she murmured, then waited for the maid to leave before quickly unfolding the paper.
I’ve taken Henry to the village with me today. Rest while you can, for he’s already anxious to see you this morning. We’ll miss you.
–S
Leah smoothed the parchment out beside her and reread it repeatedly while she ate. She wondered what matter of importance called Sebastian into the nearby village, and why he’d taken Henry with him. And she wondered if Sebastian had labored over every single word writing it as she did reading, trying to decipher possible hidden meanings. Such as “We’ll miss you.” Had Henry told Sebastian that he would miss her, or had Sebastian simply included him because he didn’t want to admit that he would miss her? The “we” made it seem more impersonal, somehow, although if it were the truth and they both would equally miss her, then that was something spectacular, actually.
Her husband and her son.
The thought of them made her chest ache, and already she wished they were home.
Leah tried to relax that morning—she truly did—but her ears kept listening for the sound of their return. None of the books she chose from the library held her attention, and she changed her morning dress twice, thinking about how Sebastian would look at her when he saw her again. So much between them had changed, but she was still uncertain where to go from here, or what he would expect from her.
When they hadn’t returned by the lunch hour, Leah began to worry. Only a little. After all, the village was no more than an hour away, and not very large at that. What could they possibly be doing which would take them so long?
Trying not to fret, especially when she saw clouds moving in across the sky, Leah went to her writing table in her bedchamber and pulled out Angela’s packet of letters. It had been a while since she’d read any, at least since before their wedding. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to read any more after that, hadn’t wanted to be reminded of Angela when she looked at Sebastian. But it was the only thing she could think of to distract her for a moment, and so she sat on the window seat and untied the ribbon, letting the letters fall into her lap as she glanced out the window.
Still no carriage.
Sighing, Leah picked up the first letter from the jumbled pile; she’d been too careless, and now they were out of order. She opened and folded one after another, placed them to the side as she tried to find one she hadn’t read. Soon only one letter lay in her lap.
Leah picked up the letter and opened it.
My darling,
I’ve made the arrangements as we agreed. I haven’t been able to sleep for fear that I will wake up and discover that I am dreaming. Two days! Two days until we’re together. Two days until we never have to part again. Do you know how often I’ve dreamed about being able to wake up beside you? Soon, I will.
I know one day I’ll see Henry again, and I love you all the more for understanding my anguish. How I wish that he were yours, that I had met you first, that he could be our child. But as the heir, I know it’s more likely for Sebastian not to try to follow us if I leave Henry . . . my dear, sweet boy. I pray that soon I’ll be able to give you a son, and then you too can know this joy I hold deep in my heart. I will send you one more letter when I confirm the time, and then we will be together.
All my love,
Angela
Leah’s fingers trembled as she folded the letter again, then tied them all with the pink satin ribbon.
Oh, Sebastian. Come home to me. Never again need he question whether Henry was his son.
Sebastian carried a tired, wet little boy in his arms up to the nursery early that evening. He deposited Henry in his nurse’s lap, then turned to the door. “We’ll be back in just a moment to say good night.”
“I’ll send for his supper right now, my lord.”
Sebastian nodded, then went in search of his wife. He went from room to room on the ground and first floors, then finally turned toward her bedchamber, frowning. She didn’t usually go to bed this early. She’d seemed fine last night, with no sign of illness. Perhaps she’d actually taken his suggestion and rested all day, although he’d doubted she would when he’d written the note that morning.
He gave a light knock, then opened the door to her bedchamber when he didn’t receive an answer.
A sweet ache filled his chest as he spied her, asleep on the window seat, her cheek resting against her fist. Sebastian strode across the room and pushed a stray wisp of hair away from her face. Leah stirred at his touch. “Shh,” he said, bending forward to scoop her against his chest. He moved toward the bed, but when he laid her down, her eyes immediately widened and focused on him.
“Sebastian?”
He smiled and stroked her face, simply because he had to touch her. “I see that you’ve taken to following my orders well.”
She blinked, then pushed herself up on one arm. “Where were you? Is everything all right? You were gone a long time.”
“Missed me, did you?”
Already the sleep was clearing from her eyes. “I missed Henry, of course,” she teased, then lifted to her knees and gave him a short, sweet kiss. Sebastian would have lengthened it, but she climbed off the bed and straightened her skirts.
“I missed you, too,” he drawled, then took her hand and led her out the bedchamber. “Henry is almost asleep. I told him I’d have you come say good night before he went to bed.”
“I was worried about you.”
Sebastian turned his gaze to her, squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. We would have returned sooner, but one of the wheels got stuck in the mud on the way back.”
“Is Henry well?” she asked as they climbed the steps to the second floor, quickening her pace.
“He’s fine, don’t worry. Just tired. I took him with me to visit with all the tenants, and it took much longer than I expected, for he wanted to play with all of the children he met.”
“Oh. Of course he would want to play, I suppose.” She climbed the remaining steps ahead of him without a word, and Sebastian wondered whether she was thinking about other children, wishing she could give Henry a brother or sister to play with.
“Leah—”
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “I have something to tell you.”
Sebastian gave an inward sigh of relief. “Oh?”
She nodded and waited for him to reach her at the top of the stairs; then they turned and walked toward the nursery together.
“Am I going to have to barter for your secret?” he asked, unprepared for the thrill of joy when she slipped her hand inside his. “A kiss for each word, perhaps?”
She gave him a mysterious smile, then placed a finger over his mouth as they stopped outside the nursery. “Soon,” she promised, and walked inside.
Henry was at his small table, eating his supper. When he looked up and saw Leah, he scooted his chair backward and went to her. Leah lifted him up and kissed his cheek, then smoothed his hair.
“Hello, sweet boy,” she said. “I missed you today.”
“Missed you, too,” he said, wrapping his arms around her neck. Then, spying Sebastian behind her, Henry held out his arms again.
Sebastian gave Leah an apologetic glance as he tucked Henry against his chest. “It’s fine,” she whispered, touching Henry’s hair as he laid his head against Sebastian’s shoulder.
She smiled and, at that moment, Sebastian fell in love with her again. How many times had he spurned spending time with Henry so he could be with Angela? This was how it should be, when he didn’t have to choose between his wife and son. “Henry?” Sebastian said. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”
“I believe he already is,” Mrs. Fowler said from across the room.
Sebastian moved toward Henry’s bed and gently laid him down. Leah stepped close and pulled a blanket over his chest, then leaned forward to kiss his forehead. Sebastian touched Henry’s hair, then followed her out the door. Once he closed it behind them, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her neck. “Thank you,” he murmured against her skin.
Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders. “For what?”
“For loving him.”
Leah laughed and pulled back. “How could I not?” she asked. “As I told you before, he’s just like—” She stopped, closing her mouth, and looked away.
“Leah?”
“Do you recall that I had something to tell you?” She looked at him again. “I read another of Angela’s letters today, the last one.”
Sebastian tensed, his arms falling to his sides. “And?”
Leah smiled at him, her hand lifting to his jaw. “He’s yours, Sebastian. She says it in her letter. Even if you don’t think he looks like you, there’s proof now. He’s yours.”
Sebastian’s throat ached. He stared at her. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, reached for his hand. “Come, I’ll show you. You can read it for yourself.” He followed her blindly down the stairs, trying to resist the urge to run back to the nursery and look at Henry sleeping.
“I only wish I’d read this one first,” Leah said as they entered her bedchamber. She hurried to the window seat and picked up a packet of letters lying between the cushion and the window, tied with the pink ribbon Sebastian remembered seeing before. She drew out the one on top, then thrust it at his chest. “Here. This is it.”
Sebastian stared at it for a moment; then his fingers were fumbling as he unfolded the letter. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and he skipped over the beginning, not seeing anything until he found Henry’s name.
The laughter started inside his chest, then pushed its way out, and Sebastian reached for Leah, spun her around in a half circle. It was either laugh or cry, and . . . bloody hell, perhaps both.
He kissed her, pouring out his love and joy and gratitude with the sweep of his mouth. “Thank you for not listening to me, for not burning them. Thank you,” he said. “I lo—” He caught himself and drew back, but she was laughing and crying, too. She hadn’t even noticed.
It was amazing how quickly his heart turned to lead in his chest, just with the realization that he still had to fear her withdrawal if he told her the truth. Sebastian concentrated on the task of folding the letter again. His fist closed over it tightly. “Thank you,” he repeated, then leaned forward and kissed a tear from her cheek. “Good night.”
“Wait,” she said as he turned toward the door. He closed his eyes, then glanced back with an attempted smile. He feared he failed. “Are you . . . Aren’t you going to stay with me? We could have dinner in here tonight, and—”
Sebastian shook his head. “Not tonight, I’m sorry.” He paused, wanting to erase the hurt from her eyes but not trusting himself to be the one to do it. “Thank you,” he said again, lifting the letter in his hand, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.
In the corridor, he leaned against the wall beside her bedchamber. Last night he’d tried to show her how he felt with the strokes of his hands and the touch of his mouth. The very fact that she’d invited him to her bed had felt like a victory. But afterward as he’d held her in his arms, with a profession of love hovering on his tongue, he remembered her reason for accepting his marriage proposal.
And that is why I decided to marry you, my lord. For I don’t love you, either.
Sebastian closed his eyes, his chin sinking toward his chest. How long he’d been trapped by those words, afraid to scare her away. How long he’d hoped that after she dealt with Ian’s ghost she would one day turn to him. Her confession of her relationship with Ian while they sat in the tree had been one step, her willingness to let him pleasure her another, and yet still it wasn’t enough. He wanted everything: her trust, her joy, her heart, her vulnerability.
If he continued waiting, would it mean she would come to love him? Would it take another month, a year? He could imagine them then, sharing each other’s beds, acting the happy family with Henry and possibly another child on the way. But they might still be kept apart by her reluctance and fear.
No, he couldn’t wait. Even if it meant she withdrew from him completely, he would tell her he loved her. She always spoke of wanting her independence; then let her decide how much it truly mattered.
Sebastian pushed away from the wall.
If she wouldn’t surrender to him, then he would surrender to her.