Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Alice had barely gotten off to sleep when a loud knocking interrupted her. She jerked awake, already breathless, reaching for a candle and limping to her bedroom door. Voices rose from the hall, a little too quiet for her to make out, but the urgency in them could not be mistaken.
Uncertainty gripped her. Had her uncle heard about her returning here and sent someone to throw her out? To be sure, it was no longer her home, but—
She would not go back to Frederick’s home unless she was invited, no matter what that cost her. Her pride was worth more than that.
Still, a feeling of dread overcame her. No one paid casual calls in the middle of the night. Something had to be wrong.
“Your Grace!” Jenny, also wearing a nightgown, came running up the stairs, a flickering candle in her hand. She shielded it with the other and came to a panting stop. “There’s been an accident. His Grace was riding to you when his horse reared, and—”
Alice’s stomach dropped so instantly, she could practically feel it tug itself free from her body.
She steadied herself against the doorframe, all the worst-case scenarios flooding her mind.
An accident by horseback—it wasn’t a carriage accident, but she remembered hers all too well.
The fear, that sickening feeling of falling, and the crunch of impact. The pain.
Her parents’ unmoving bodies.
She shook her head, trying to free the images from her brain so she could think again.
Every breath felt laced with fear like she had never known. Frederick, lying dead on the side of the road. His neck—
No, she couldn’t even think it!
Her knees threatened to give out. “Is he—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Jenny knew anyway. “No, Your Grace. A physician has been called, and he was barely conscious when he was sent home. They are saying he will survive.”
Alice clung to those two words as though they were a lifeline, flung out to her. He would survive. Survive. She had not known how beautiful such a small word could sound. He was alive. He would survive.
She wanted to fall to her knees and weep. The turmoil in her chest barely let her take a breath. Guilt and pain warred for prominence. It was all she could do to keep standing. But she must, because Frederick needed her, and she would not fail.
She had not been able to save her parents, but she would do whatever it took to save her husband.
She reached a hand out to her maid. “Take me to him,” she whispered hoarsely.
Pain. Frederick seemed wrapped in it. He blinked at the ceiling, and heard a muffled sob from beside him.
“You’re awake,” a painfully familiar voice murmured, before he felt pressure on his chest. Something pressed against his neck, and after a moment he realized it was a face, damp with tears.
Alice was here, she was embracing him, and she was crying.
Why did his body hurt?
“I am so so sorry,” she croaked, drawing back.
Now he could see her face, he saw the self-conscious flush rise up her cheeks as she made space between them once more.
He was in his own bedchamber, which struck him as strange, seeing as he had left it behind for the country.
And Alice was still wearing a traveling cloak.
He frowned, trying to piece all the information together.
“What…” He coughed. “What happened?”
“You were riding,” Alice said softly, her luminous eyes glossy with tears.
“And you came off your horse. I—” She buried her face in her hands as she attempted to gather herself.
“I spoke with the physician. He said your arm is broken and your ribs are badly bruised, but you are in no immediate danger. But when I came in, you looked so…” She cut off again, her voice cracking.
If he didn’t hurt so very much, he would have gathered her into his arms. “And you didn’t wake for so long. I thought—”
Her parents... How must she have felt, rushing to him in the middle of the night when she heard he had been in a similar accident?
“Alice,” he said hoarsely. “I am all right. Shh. It’s not like…” He reached for her, but she backed away, her tears overflowing.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded in more of that pained, cracked voice.
“They said you were coming to see me. All this for me?” Her throat worked.
“If you wanted me to come home, you could have written to me to ask. You could have taken a carriage. Not ridden out in the middle of the night! Do you know what could have happened?”
“I know, my love. I am sorry. I never meant to put us both through this.” Finally, she let him reach for her, and she came easily, submitting to another embrace—this time one that he initiated. He stroked her hair and just let himself breathe.
She was here. In his arms. Alice, his wife, the woman he loved beyond all reason, was here. And she let him hold her.
He felt her tears against his neck, and he held her through all of them. All the hurt in his heart drained away. Whatever came, they would endure it together.
When her tears slowed, he eased her back, looking into her face. “You said home,” he whispered, and her eyes searched his as though looking for his answer. “Is this home for you, my sweet? Here?”
“What do you think?” she asked in a broken voice. “Anywhere you are, Frederick. That is home to me now. You are my home.”
Words he had dreamed of for so long. He drew in a deep breath, then winced. “I am sorry,” he managed again.
“Why are you apologizing? Haven’t you done enough damage already?
” Her eyes fluttered closed, two more tears streaking down her cheeks.
He wiped them away. “When I heard you had been in an accident, I thought—I thought the worst. If you had died, Frederick, the rest of me would have died along with you.”
“Shh.”
“I need to say this,” she pressed on. “You didn’t believe me before, but I thought we had time then. But we don’t—we don’t know what will happen. And I can’t bear for anything to happen to you and for it to be my fault. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. And you—”
“Shh,” he murmured again. “I know. I know you didn’t do it.”
She paused, eyelashes wet as she looked at him. “What?”
“Your friend, Charlotte Norburry, came to the house in search of you. She admitted to drugging you and spreading the rumors as if you had.” He stroked her cheek, bringing his thumb to her bottom lip.
It parted for him, and a bolt of lust traveled straight through his spine.
Even now, even in his injured state, he wanted her.
He groaned. “I should have believed you. Can you forgive me?”
Alice shook her head. “Can you forgive me for being the reason you are hurt?”
“There is nothing to forgive. I wanted to reach you so badly, I disregarded everything else, including my own safety. That is not your burden to bear.” He brought her face down to his for a soft kiss. “Don’t live as I did, darling.”
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again.
“I love you,” she murmured in between kisses, and although she had told him he had bruised ribs, he felt something light and warm expand inside him, somewhere beyond pain.
“I love you in a way I never thought I could love again. I forgave you long before I admitted to myself I no longer held a grudge. And I am so, so relieved you married me.”
She rested her forehead against his so they could breathe each other’s air. He breathed her in, feeling his own heart settle inside his chest. This week without her had felt like forever, and he would never carry such a burden again.
“I trust you,” he told her, wrapping his good arm around her. His chest ached, but even so, he struggled into a sitting position. “From now on, if you tell me something, I will believe it.”
“And I will never act against you.”
He kissed her again, needing to feel the pressure of her lips against his, the certainty that she was now with him again and all was right with the world. “I want you in this room,” he told her. “Every night.”
“Every night?” She quirked a brow. “Even now?”
“Even now,” he chuckled gently. “Although I fear I am a little less mobile than I was before.”
Her full lips pulled into a smile. “It is about time it was the other way around.” She smoothed the damp hair back from his head. “I can walk again now, thanks to you,” she whispered, and he could hear the emotion in her voice.
Finally, the guilt in his chest eased.
She loved him; she had forgiven him. She could walk again.
This was the closest he could come to turning back time, and now he finally felt as though he understood—his father had not disliked that his public reputation was ruined.
Time could heal that, especially as he began making the changes that were important to him.
But it was the unpaid debt to Alice that his father had disapproved of the most.
Now that debt was fulfilled—or at least, as fulfilled as it could be now. He would spend every day for the rest of their lives making it up to her.
“Alice,” he breathed, tugging her back so he could look into her hazel-flecked eyes. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
“No.” Her gaze bounced from one eye to the other as she took in his expression. Dawn light spilled into the room. “Does that mean—”
“More than anything,” he whispered. “You are my light. My reason. I love you more than life itself.”
She shook her head desperately, even as she bent to kiss him again. “Not that much. Promise me, Frederick. I need you to live a long time. Just as long as I do. I need you by my side for the rest of my life.”
“I think,” he whispered, sliding a hand into her hair and bringing her mouth down on his, “I can promise that.”