Chapter 4
Philip found Lily exactly where he’d expected.
In the stables, shoveling manure in dinner dress.
Hidden in the shadows of the stable, he allowed himself a moment to watch her in the lantern light.
Dust motes floated in the air, as if the snowflakes had followed her inside, equally entranced by her.
The humble stable transformed into a golden fairyland with his wife as its queen.
The pungent scent of horses and manure was somehow diminished here, as his nostrils filled with fresh hay, leather, and the soft orange and cinnamon perfume he remembered from so long ago.
She’d shed her jacket and worked in the dark aubergine skirt she’d worn to dinner, with only her corset and stays above.
His walk through the gentle snow had done nothing to abate the desire that swirled in his blood the moment her lips touched his beneath the mistletoe.
His cock kicked at the sight of her now, how perspiration stuck the thin fabric to the swells of her breasts and made her pale skin glow.
The muscles of her arms flexed and shifted as she took a pitchfork to the straw and tossed the waste into the wheelbarrow at the stall’s entrance.
Yes, mucking shite should not have aroused him, but her strength was stirring his desire, her damnable tenacity that had kept him alive all those years ago and had given him the determination to find his way back to her.
That, and the fact that he hadn’t been intimate with anyone since their wedding night.
He cleared his throat. “You’ll ruin your skirt if you keep that up.”
She stilled, her jaw tensing before she stabbed another section of damp straw and flung it towards the wheelbarrow. The majority missed and spilled out the far side, into the aisleway.
Hiding his smile, he unbuttoned his greatcoat and jacket and tossed them over the stall divider. “I’ve made the night difficult for you.” He rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbows and walked towards her, extending his hand.
Given there was a decent chance she’d send the pitchfork through his genitals, he thought himself quite valiant.
Her lips curled in a snarl before she shoved the pitchfork at him, then turned to leave the stable.
“I hoped we could talk now,” he said, holding out a hand to still her but not touching her. He wasn’t certain how he’d survived the kiss beneath the mistletoe, only that he wanted to kiss her again, and soon.
But not yet. He hadn’t earned her affection, but perhaps this would be the start.
She paused and spoke without looking at him, her words delivered through clenched teeth. “I have nothing to say to you.”
A mirthless chuckle escaped him. “I highly doubt that’s true. I’m willing to bet you have quite a lot to say—yell, actually—at me.”
“If I yelled as much as I’d like, I’d wake all of Oxfordshire.”
A nostalgic fondness settled in his chest, warming him.
They’d always sparred like this; Lily Waverly had never held back from putting him in his place, and he’d loved her all the more for it.
When he’d courted her years ago, neither had shied away from allowing their bickering to evolve to kissing, touching, her clever tongue firing as he did his best to convince her to stay with him, to take his name and be his countess.
And she’d agreed. Then he’d left.
He motioned towards a stool in the stall’s corner, and the breath escaped his lungs in a rush when she sat without argument. “Is this one yours?” He nodded his chin at the large chestnut bay in the next stall.
“She is. Calpurnia.” Lily’s voice was laced with reluctant pride, as though he deserved none of her happiness. “Cavalier is her sire.”
“Cavalier?” He chuckled as he separated more soiled hay and dropped it in the wheelbarrow. “I thought that beast would never take to stud.”
“He’s done well for us. Two of his foals were winners at Haymarket last season.” She hesitated, as though tempering her excitement. “The stables have been a good source of income for the estate.”
“You should be proud of what you’ve done.”
“I am.” She sniffed. “I enjoy the work.”
Several moments passed where the only sounds were the chuffing of horses in their stalls, the pitchfork slicing through the hay, and the pounding in his ears.
The falling snow outside muffled any noise from the house, like the stable had been closed inside a glass ornament, a world that was entirely theirs.
He was loath to break the temporary peace, but it had to be shattered.
“You deserve to know why I left,” he said finally.
Her laugh was low and wry, devoid of humor.
“I know why you left.” When he snapped his gaze to hers, bewildered, her cheeks were flushed.
“One night with me was enough to know I couldn’t please you.
” She lifted her eyes to the beams criss-crossing the ceiling and blinked repeatedly.
“You couldn’t bring yourself to lay with—”
He dropped the pitchfork to the ground and approached her. “Is that really what you think? That you didn’t please me?”
She stood and matched his temerity. “You had me once and fled. You were so angry with me—”
A piece snapped into place in his mind, and his heart plummeted. “Oh Lord, Lily, no.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. She did not, however, retreat.
Christ, but she was incredible.
“My leaving had nothing to do with you, and certainly not our wedding night.” He sucked in a steadying breath, filling every corner of his lungs before starting the most important explanation of his life. “After the accident, I thought I’d lose my leg. Do you remember?”
She nodded brusquely, but said nothing. She owed him nothing, and yet she listened. He thanked the stars for that.
“The pain was horrible, and if you hadn’t been there, nursing me through, I would have wished for death.”
Something in her expression broke at that, but she schooled her features quickly. “No, that’s not true. You were fighting to get better.”
He motioned towards the stool again, and she sat. Not caring that his trousers would be ruined or that his leg would ache in the morning, he kneeled at her feet as a penitent man. He owed it to her to prostrate himself.
“The doctor gave me laudanum to help with the pain so I could sleep.”
“I remember.” Her hazel irises searched his face. “You asked for it often.”
He nodded, shame creeping over him and tugging at his spine.
But he wouldn’t let it overtake him. “Too often. Before long, I needed more and more of it to feel relief. My skin would crawl and burn until I took more of the drug. It was all I thought of, all I craved. I knew I was out of my depth with it, but I was an earl. If I asked for more of the tincture, it would appear at my bedside like magic.”
Her nostrils flared. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
“I made sure you didn’t know.” His shame swelled.
“When the doctor refused to give me more and warned me of the dangers of abuse, I raged at him, at everyone in sight. Thank God you’d gone into town, or you would have been terrified.
” He clenched his fists and released them.
“My mother suggested you return to Boar’s Hill until the wedding so you wouldn’t be… ”
“Scared of you.”
“And I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me.
” He swallowed hard. “But I also couldn’t stop wanting the laudanum, and my mother refused the doctors who wanted to give it to me.
So I went to London, but instead of searching for some way to break the hold the drug held on me, a footman pointed me towards an opium den. ”
She recoiled, hissing through her teeth. “Philip, no.”
He shuddered at the memory of the slum in Limehouse, the sweat-soaked hovel that reeked of human waste and low tide. But the blessed relief of the opium allowed him to ignore his circumstances, to forget about the people waiting for him outside those doors.
People like Lily.
“By the time I needed to return to Lancashire, I could barely get myself off the floor. My hands were shaking so hard, I couldn’t dress myself on our wedding day.”
Her eyes searched his face, as though attempting to detect a lie. Finding none, she shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Shame?” He lowered himself onto his rear end on the straw, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “I was to be your husband, the man who should protect you and provide for you, and I was a bloody mess.”
“Did you think I’d stop loving you?”
“Yes.” His chest ached when she flinched. “I thought you’d tell me to stop.”
“Of course, I’d tell you to stop!” Goose pimples erupted on her bare arms, and he stood to take his greatcoat off the stall divider and wrapped it around her.
Sitting once more at her feet, he took one of her hands in his. To his surprise, she didn’t pull it away, but she didn’t look at him, either.
“Every time I tried to give it up, my body would rebel so painfully I couldn’t manage another minute without the opium.” He turned her hand gently and slid his thumb over her wedding band, watching the gold glide over her finger.
She watched the movement, too. “Why did you marry me if you were suffering so? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
He hummed low in his chest and fought the urge to bring her fingertips to his lips, as though that would take the sting out of his words. “I thought being your husband would give me enough reason to fight the addiction. I wanted to have you as my countess more than anything, more than the drug.”
Her gaze narrowed. “But I wasn’t enough. You wanted the opium more than me.”
At his nod, she tugged her hand away and stood, pacing up and down the stall. “So you left me on the morning after our wedding without a word?”
He stood and blocked her path. “I left you a note—”
“A note where you said you had to leave me, as though you had no choice.”
“I didn’t.” His hands flexed at his sides, desperate to hold her, to absorb the pain from her skin into his.
“What have you been doing for eight years?” Her lower lip was vibrating with her fury. “Gallivanting about Europe’s finest opium dens, whoring and wasting away while I worried over you? While I remained faithful to you?”
He stepped into her space, knowing she might lash out but too bruised by her sorrow to leave her be. “I upheld our marriage vows, Lily.”
“Hogwash,” she spat.
“I never took a woman into my bed. You were the only one I wanted—”
“Aside from the drug.” Now she advanced on him, no longer hiding her anger.
Tears streamed openly down her cheeks, and she made no move to wipe them away.
“You have no idea what it was like after you left.
“I had to go to our wedding breakfast and make excuses for you, pretending you were resting your leg. And that was only the beginning.”
“Lily,” he breathed, unsure if he could maintain his strength hearing what she said next. Knowing precisely what he’d done to her.
“I lied to everyone for you. Claimed you had business on the continent, or you were visiting friends in the Highlands for months on end. Lies upon lies, and I was sure no one believed me, but they’d never question me. Do you know why?”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly too tight, and shook his head.
Her hazel eyes flashed. “Because they pitied me. And the only person I wouldn’t lie to was myself. You were gone, Philip. You vowed to honor me, to protect me and cherish me. To love me. And you broke all those promises.”
“I never stopped loving you. It was the only thing that kept me from succumbing to my demons, knowing I would come back to you. To us.”
She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed, and he rocked onto his heels as she whirled away, shrugging off his greatcoat and letting it fall to the ground.
“There is no us to return to. You abandoned me when I most needed you, when you most needed me.” She picked up her jacket from where she’d discarded it on a hay bale and shrugged it on.
“I’ve built a life without you, Philip, and there’s no space for you in it. ”
The words struck like a blow, pummeling fists that cracked his ribs and teeth and jaw. But he’d come so far to return to her, and he wasn’t about to surrender.
She was nearly at the stable door when he called to her. “Do you plan to storm in there and toss my bags in the snow? Because your mother and nephews will certainly notice.”
She stilled at the threshold, and when she turned to face him, he saw nothing but pure loathing on her face.
He could manage loathing. At least she felt something for him, even if it was a desire to tear him limb from limb.
“Three days,” she said, her words colder than the snow blanketing the estate. “You will be the perfect gentleman for three days and give my family the Christmas they deserve. Then you’ll leave and never darken my doorstep again.”
“Three days,” he echoed, even as his soul felt like it was being torn out through his rib cage. “You’ll listen to my explanation, then?”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and he longed to pull her close and wipe away her pain. “I’ll listen to you, but I don’t have to forgive you.”
How those words lit a fuse inside him, hope blooming like a fire deep in his chest. He stalked forward until she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, but she didn’t back down.
Good. Neither would he.
“I’ll endeavor to make this Christmas perfect.”
Her gaze dipped to his lips for the barest moment before snapping to his eyes once more. “See that you do.”
“But be prepared.” He lowered his head the slightest bit, and her mouth parted on a silent gasp.
“I’m not leaving again. You can say three days, but it’s going to be the rest of our lives.
I’ve battled far worse than a woman who hates me.
” He dragged his gaze over the slashes of her brows, the angry curl in her lips.
“You are my wife. I never stopped loving you, nor do I ever intend to.”
He expected her fury, but instead her shoulders hunched, as though he’d exhausted her. And this, more than her anger, gutted him.
How long had she been this drained, a shell of the woman he’d loved? She had been sunshine and sparkling brilliance when they met, but he’d extinguished that light with his absence, created the shadowy monster of doubt who lived inside her and convinced her she was unworthy.
And it was his responsibility to destroy it.
“Don’t ask me to forgive you, Philip.” Her voice was low but resolute.
He lifted his chin, a determined gesture he’d learned from her. “I won’t ask for your forgiveness until I’ve earned it.”