Chapter 6
“Ididnae ken this would be so bloody difficult,” Callum hissed as he dropped his needle to suck on his bleeding thumb, his string of cranberries and popped corn falling to the dining room table.
Philip suppressed his chuckle, but Archie didn’t bother.
“It’s easy,” Archie said as he reached for another handful of popcorn. “Have you ever sewn anything before?”
Marigold’s boys and puppy were driving Lady Redbourne into a tizzy with their constant running and the dog’s barking, so Archie suggested the men keep the lads occupied while she took the ladies into town for shopping.
They’d repurposed the grand dining room into a makeshift workshop, and instead of crisp linens and sparkling silver and china, the table was covered with thread, sewing needles, and deep bowls of cranberries and popcorn.
Despite stuffing their mouths and pockets with popcorn, the boys quickly gave up in favor of assisting the cook with the evening’s pudding while the viscount retreated to his library, leaving the Waverly husbands to manage the task.
“Darning a hem isnae—” Callum swallowed an oath as he dropped a handful of popcorn onto the floor, and Cricket let out a happy yip as he gobbled up the mess, “—this shite. Whose idea was this?”
Ben shrugged. “It’s popular back home. Thought it would be a good diversion. Although English cranberries are much smaller than American ones.” He was a quiet one, Philip had noticed, though he’d been quick to rise to Lily’s defense the night before at dinner.
Ben leaned over to Alex. The Harvard professor had deep circles under his eyes. “Is Fern resting?”
Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping with his exhaustion. “Yes, finally. The baby has been keeping her up all hours, and with her classes starting up again, she’s been exhausted. It’s been good for her to be home.”
“You’ll be lucky if her ladyship lets you on the boat.
” Archie stabbed a cranberry on a needle and pointed it in their direction.
“All the Waverly women seem happy. Except Lily, but that’s—” He cut off with a choked sound, his eyes darting to Philip and quickly back to the pile of cranberries and popcorn. His cheeks pinked.
Philip shifted on his feet and concentrated on threading his needle. “Go on,” he said, as gently as he could with the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t expect to have allies beyond Timothy and James, and they were both still traveling. “What were you going to say?”
Movement around the table stilled. When Archie’s eyes met his, they held a sharp edge. “I was saying, everyone seems happy except Lily. But that’s expected.”
The bile climbed higher, and Philip strained to swallow it down. She’d been gone when he woke up with a stiff neck, sore back, and a desperate desire for coffee. Out with the horses, the ancient butler explained without bothering to meet his eye or direct him towards breakfast.
It seemed his arrival had wreaked havoc on the entire extended Waverly clan, and he would need more than a single stilted dinner conversation to put things to rights. Her family deserved an explanation as much as Lily had.
Philip cleared his throat and looked to Callum. “Are Timothy and James still arriving today?”
“Aye, sometime this afternoon.” James was Callum’s cousin and former business partner, and he’d fallen in love with Timothy at the same house party as Callum and Violet. “Their traveling companions wanted to visit their club in London. They sent a telegram when they were leaving.”
“Who is traveling with them?” Alex asked.
Callum shrugged. “A doctor and her husband,” he said. “Friends of theirs from Paris. I cannae tell ye more because I dinnae ken anything else.”
“Dr. Lavinia Bailey,” Philip put in, his pulse thundering. “And her husband, Dominic. He’s an owner of the Libertine Club in London, and she’s with the medical school at the Sorbonne.”
Callum’s dark brow rose. “Ye ken them?”
“I do.” His stomach roiled. “Dr. Bailey was—is my physician. She’s the reason I was ready to come back for Lily.”
The silence was deafening, and he had the oddest urge to clap his hands or shout to break the tension, to relieve some of the pressure in his chest.
He brought his attention to the cranberries and popcorn on the table, the red and whites bleeding together as he blinked repeatedly. “I left England because I’d become dependent on opium,” he finally said, his eyes falling shut momentarily.
He couldn’t see the shock on their faces, the disappointment and inevitable disgust. He’d faced those judgmental expressions for years, so often he’d simply accepted that he was disgusting, an abomination, a drain on society.
Callum exhaled through his teeth. “I told them last night after dinner,” he said, motioning to the men gathered there. “James wrote weeks ago saying we should expect ye and…” His lips flattened. “Hear ye out. But he didnae tell me why.”
Though Callum sounded skeptical of the request, the vice around Philip’s ribs loosened. Yet a glance around the table revealed the hard expressions of the men who wanted to protect his wife, something he should have been doing for years and failed.
He swallowed his shame, knowing it would do him no good now.
“Two years ago, I’d gone to an institute in Germany seeking a cure, but it only made things worse.
It wasn’t the first time, and I was losing hope.
I found my way to Paris, where I happened upon a bloke wearing a Pembroke scarf walking with his wife. ”
Alex’s head shot up. “You’re a Pembroke man?” At Philip’s nod, he grinned. “So am I.”
“Is that so?” The vice released a hint of pressure, and his heart rate slowed. “You were probably a better student than I was. Regardless, they—Dominic and Lavinia—must have seen something in me and invited me to dinner.”
“Brave of him,” Ben said, “inviting in a stranger.”
Only after he raked his fingers through his hair did Philip realize he’d been holding a handful of popcorn, and he shook it out with a chuff of a laugh.
“You’re right. I was only thinking of a warm meal, but after they’d fed me, they asked for my story.
How a Pembroke man had ended up sleeping on the streets of Paris. ”
“On the streets?” Archie released a low whistle.
Philip’s nod was grim. “I had money but no desire to care for myself. What a fortunate bastard I was to learn Dr. Bailey had colleagues at the Sorbonne who could help me beat this addiction for good. Nothing had worked before, and I had nothing left to lose.”
“Except your wife.” Callum’s lips curled in a snarl.
“Lily was the only reason I kept fighting.”
“Then why did you leave?” Alex’s brows were furrowed.
“After you married her?” Callum again, who looked one wrong answer away from leaping across the table and strangling Philip.
He’d have to get in line behind Lily.
“I thought being her husband would be enough to make the craving stop. Idiotic, I know, but I still hoped for it. After our wedding, I realized I wanted the drug more than I wanted her…”
Callum growled low in his chest, but Ben shot him a quelling look.
“So ye left,” the Scot said.
Ben’s expression softened. “To get better for her.”
Philip nodded, his throat tightening enough to restrict his speech.
He’d spent so many years cloaked in guilt—that he wasn’t strong sufficient to cast off the shackles of his addiction, that he’d failed his wife and the earldom—and the simple acknowledgement of his motivation for leaving, foolish as it was, flattened him.
“Thank you,” he managed, brushing off the popcorn he’d crushed in his clenched fists.
Alex nodded towards the garland. “You’ll need to start that one over.”
“Right.” Philip rolled his shoulders back, a boxer braced for the final blow. “I’m better now. I waited until I was certain I would be strong enough for her and I’d never succumb to that disgusting habit again.”
“How can you know that for certain?” Archie asked, skepticism lacing his words.
I don’t. He pushed the intrusive thought aside, locking it away with the rest of his doubts and fears. That Lily would reject him. That he’d give her a reason to send him away.
That he’d deserve to be exiled from her.
“I know. She will see nothing but strength from me from this moment forward.”
The men glanced at each other, and after a long, heavy pause, Callum gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “Fine,” he grumbled. “We believe ye.”
Philip felt lighter than he had in weeks. “You won’t toss me out into the snow?”
“There’s still a chance,” Archie said, “but you’ve convinced us to let you stay.”
“For now.” Callum swallowed a yelp as he stuck the needle in his thumb again, then threw the thread to the table as though it had personally offended him. “Ye need to convince Lily you’ve changed.”
Archie nodded. “You’re going to have to grovel.”
Philip cocked his head. “Do what now?”
Alex nudged Ben with his elbow. “Didn’t you cross the Atlantic to grovel?”
“And walked ten miles,” Ben said with a groan.
Archie snorted. “You could have at least put on a decent suit to propose to her.”
“He doesn’t own a decent suit,” Alex put in.
“Why would I need a suit—”
“Focus, lads.” Callum narrowed his gaze on Philip. “Get on yer knees and beg forgiveness.”
Archie chuckled. “And spend the next eight years with your head between her thighs.” The others hummed in agreement, but the hope blooming in Philip’s chest withered.
“She won’t let me near her, and I can’t blame her.”
Silence for a moment, then Ben spoke. “What is it she wants?”
I wish she wanted me. “A perfect Christmas for her mother and nephews.”
Archie’s lips drew into a wide smile. “Then give her the perfect Christmas.”
“Give her chocolate,” Ben said. “Flowers, anything she likes.”
“And orgasms,” Callum put in. “Lots of those.”
Ben swatted him on the arm while Archie chuckled.
“But she needs to know she can trust you.” Alex flattened his lips, turning the mood somber once more. “And you won’t leave her again.”
The vice around his heart tightened, familiar doubts creeping in and challenging his determination. “I won’t leave. I love her too much.”
Callum pressed his hand on the table—barely avoiding impaling himself with the needle yet again—and leaned towards him. “Then ye need to prove it.” He nodded towards the others. “And if we see ye truly mean it, we’ll help ye.”