Chapter 20 #2
“I was. I know now that she did me a favor, and thank Christ I learned who she truly was before I married her.” He hesitated before continuing.
“But when I saw you in your half brother’s arms, embracing him, it was as if that old betrayal had come back, only tenfold.
Because I never cared for her the way I care for you. The way I love you.”
There it was again, that wondrous word.
That word she’d thought she would never hear from his lips.
That word she’d feared she would forever be denied.
Love.
Everett loved her.
And she loved him, too.
But she couldn’t lie to herself. Knowing he had spent months believing she had betrayed him hurt. How could it not? He had been willing to believe that she was in love with someone else, that she had dishonored their marriage vows, that she shared a bed with him whilst longing for another.
However, she could also understand his haste in misunderstanding and his own hurt, particularly knowing now what he had shared about his past. He had been deceived before. Had been about to marry a woman who had lied to him and manipulated him, claiming to love him whilst sharing his friend’s bed.
“Can you forgive me, Sybil?” he rasped, as if reading her thoughts.
“I can understand if you don’t. I’ve been a beast to you.
Worse than a beast, in fact. I’ve been perfectly wretched, thinking the worst of you, leaving you in Riverdale Abbey.
All I can say is that I’m sorry and I swear that I will spend the rest of my life proving myself to you and trying to earn your trust.”
Sybil realized she had a choice. She could cling to her hurt and her anger. She could rage and rail against him for the way he had believed the worst of her.
But the fire had changed her.
They could have died today. And Verity’s recovery was still tentative at best. She had been badly injured. Life was too precious to waste.
Love was too precious to waste.
“I forgive you,” she told him.
“You do?”
“I do. And I love you.”
He crushed her against his chest, his hold on her so tight that he squeezed a cough from her before he relaxed, apparently realizing his own strength.
“Thank God, my love. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.
Not after the way I’ve treated you. But I’m a selfish man, and I’ll take it, nonetheless.
Please tell me that you’re not still going to leave me and return to Riverdale Abbey. ”
“I’m not going to leave you,” she confirmed.
“The only reason I intended to return to the country was because I loved you so desperately, and I couldn’t bear to remain here, knowing you would never return my love.
I had thought I was strong enough to do so, but then you were so angry when I broached the subject of Henry… ”
“I was an arse. I am sorry. Sorrier than words can convey.” He shook his head. “To think that I could have lost you today. I could have lost you, and I had wasted these few, precious months we’ve had together…”
She pressed a finger to his lips, staying his words. “Hush. Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. We have the rest of our lives now.”
He kissed her fingertip, staring down at her with so much naked affection that she almost had to look away. It was akin to staring into the sun. So much, so strong, so overwhelming.
“We do,” he said, caressing a path across her cheekbone with his thumb pad as if she were a creature of wonder.
And in his eyes, Sybil felt like she could be.
They had survived. The past was where it belonged, the future awaiting them.
“I love you, Everett,” she whispered, overwhelmed by her emotion.
“I love you,” he said. “I was too stubborn to realize it when I married you, and I was too damned stupid to show you the proper way. But I’ll do everything in my power to do so now, starting today and every day after.”
“I know of one way you might show me.” She smiled at him through tears of happiness. “Kiss me.”
“Done.” His lips settled over hers in the next breath.
“How is she?” Everett asked Maman when she slipped from Verity’s room later that evening.
He and Sybil had been waiting, pacing in the hall together, not wanting to intrude but desperate to know more. Ever since word had reached them that Verity had awakened at last, they had been desperate to get to her bedside. To see her, talk with her, reassure themselves she was alive and well.
His mother looked wearier than he could recall seeing her, as if she had aged ten years in one day. He was sure he looked no better. The fire and resulting mayhem, particularly nearly losing his wife and his sister in the same day, had left him reeling.
They had done their utmost to help with the children, bringing in some of the younger girls, Emma among them, and filling their bedrooms to capacity. The others had been divided amongst various orphanages and the homes of some of the other Children’s Foundling Hospital patrons.
“She is…” Maman hesitated, frowning. “She is confused, I think. She’s in pain, and she has not made much sense.”
“The blow to her head,” he said, worry tightening in his gut again. “The doctor said we should remain vigilant. That there is the possibility she will not remember what happened to her, given how hard she was hit by that falling beam.”
“That is true,” Maman allowed, nodding. “She doesn’t recall anything that transpired today. Not breakfast, not the fire at the Children’s Foundling Hospital, not nearly being trapped inside. But there are other things that seem to confuse her, almost as if she’s in a dream.”
Everett didn’t like the sound of that.
“Do you think it would be too much for her to see us?” Sybil asked softly.
“She is sleeping again, but you may go to her,” his mother said. “I need to walk for a few minutes, and she would appreciate the company, I’m sure. My poor old knees have grown stiff, sitting at her bedside for all these hours.”
“We will stay by her side until you are ready to return,” Everett promised easily. “Take your time and rest if you need to, as well.”
His mother’s gaze dipped to where Everett and Sybil’s hands were clasped at their sides.
“It is good to see you two children finally realizing how hopelessly in love with each other you are.” She turned to Sybil.
“Lady Eastlake and I recognized it at once, you know. It is a pity that it took something as terrible as a fire to make the both of you wake up to what has been right in front of your stubborn noses all the while.”
In his admittedly poor defense, he had already recognized it before the fire.
He’d been on his way to confess all to Sybil and make a mad-dash effort at persuading her to stay with his sorry arse when he had discovered the fire at the orphanage.
But he would accept all blame, for he was the one who had made a mess of everything since their wedding day.
A flush had stolen along Sybil’s cheeks. “It would seem that our noses were rather large and in the way, but we have seen the error of our ways now.”
Everett brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, holding his wife’s gaze. “In truth, I am at fault for everything. My wife is an angel to suffer me.”
Sybil gave him a shy smile. “It’s hardly suffering, Your Grace.”
“That reminds me. She has been asking for the Duke of Kingham.”
Belatedly, Everett realized they had an audience. His mother yet stood there, watching them. “Verity?”
“Yes,” Maman answered thoughtfully. “Perhaps his rescue of her, coupled with the blow to the head, has affected her emotions for the moment. I’m sure it will change.”
What the devil did that mean?
Everett frowned, thinking again of how King had claimed to be riding in the vicinity of the Children’s Foundling Hospital when the fire had broken out and how he had not known that Verity was even within until he had stopped by the throng of spectators and Sybil had told him.
It had seemed rather unlikely at the time, but Everett hadn’t been in the mood to question anything his friend had said. He’d been too caught up in the fear that Verity wouldn’t survive her injuries.
“I’m sure it will change, indeed,” he agreed mildly, not wanting to cause his mother further distress, even if he did find it odd.
King had assured him that he would never dally with his sister.
“I believe I shall find myself a restorative cup of tea,” Maman said.
His mother took her leave, and Everett and Sybil turned toward Verity’s bedroom.
Quietly turning the latch, they walked inside.
The curtains were closed, and the gas lamps were turned low.
Verity was a silent, still figure on the bed, a bandage wrapped around her head and another on one hand, her eyes closed, lashes fanned over her cheeks.
The soot had been cleaned from her, her partially destroyed gown replaced by a dressing gown. A strong scent of smoke still lingered in the air. No doubt from her hair; given the nature of the wound, Everett doubted very much that the doctor had cleaned her hair before stitching her up.
Still holding hands with Sybil, he moved to his sister’s bedside.
Her chest moved steadily up and down with breaths that were sometimes labored and wheezing.
She had been in the smoke the longest, and it stood to reason she would have suffered the most damage to her lungs.
He could only hope she would recover, given time.
“Ah, sister,” he said, hating seeing her thus.
Verity was always motion, determination, boldness. Although she had sworn off falling in love again and steadfastly wore her mourning weeds for Lord Leopold, she was perpetually bright and cheerful.
“She looks well,” Sybil said, hope in her voice. “After what she has been through, it’s nothing short of a miracle that she is here with us at all.”
“You are correct, of course,” he agreed. “We must be thankful for all mercies, large and small.”