Chapter Seventeen
Christmas night
Denham House
St. James Place
Mayfair, England
It was Christmas night, and Wallace was sorely missing the intimacy he previously enjoyed with his wife. Not just in the sexual sense, but in having her near, in sharing little things throughout the day or laughing over silly things.
But he didn’t know how to repair what he’d stupidly destroyed with a lie of omission… and in breaking his marriage vows.
Though they’d shared dinner together, it had been a quiet, tense affair, so now, he set out to locate her and try, once more, to return to her good graces. Eventually, he found her sitting in a highbacked wooden chair at Bartholomew’s bedside.
“What are you doing?” Wallace frowned, for since the child had come to them, he slept in a narrow bed in the rooms they’d converted into a nursery and schoolroom.
Abigail glanced at him as he sneaked into the small room. “Apparently, the boy had been crying earlier tonight. He was so inconsolable that the nursery maid woke me—since you weren’t immediately found—and asked if I would come up.”
“I was dozing in the drawing room.” He grunted. “She must not know you hate the boy.”
“Don’t be an arse, Denham.” While she spoke, his wife gave the boy’s hand a small squeeze for reassurance. “It’s not his fault he’s in a strange place. He fell asleep thirty minutes ago. With luck, he’ll stay in dreamland, but in the meanwhile, someone needed to come up and comfort him.”
“I know, but…”
She ignored him and turned her attention back to Bartholomew when the boy stirred and opened his eyes then bounced his gaze between the two of them.
“Happy Christmas, Bartholomew,” Abigail crooned to the child in a soft voice that tugged at Wallace’s heart.
“I know it’s frightening, being in a strange new house with new people all around you, while you’re sad and missing your mother.
” She finger-combed his chestnut hair. “It’s a terrible thing, but please know that you are safe and your father already adores you.
” Though her voice caught, she managed a smile for the boy.
Wallace put a hand to his heart as it squeezed. Would she come around soon?
“Might I hug you?” The little boy looked at her. “My mama used to let me when I was afraid.”
Oh, damn. Wallace held his breath. Would Abigail continue to reject the boy even after that pitiful plea?
Emotions warred for dominance over her face. “Yes, of course,” she whispered. Then she leaned down and slowly, tentatively put her arms around him while the boy’s small arms went around her neck.
Wallace thought his heart might explode for all the hope that scene offered.
“You smell like flowers,” the boy told her, “And you feel soft. My mama couldn’t hug me when she was dying, so I was alone except when Papa visited.”
Would she take exception to that bit of innocent truth?
His dear Abigail came up to the mark splendidly. “Well, you’ll not be alone any longer. This is your home now, with us.” She blinked and a tear fell to her cheek, sparkling in the light of a single candle that burned on the other side of the room.
Bartholomew nodded and kept his gaze on her. “Christmas was lovely. My belly is full. And I have some tin soldiers. It was a good day.”
“Yes, it was.” Her voice was low, the words choked. “Let us hope you’ll always have good days now.”
Slowly, the boy lay back and rested his head on the pillow. “Will you also have good days?”
A heavy silence roiled through the room.
There was silence then Abigail sighed. I hope so, for I miss them.” Then she kissed his forehead. “Sleep now. Tomorrow is Boxing Day, and you can help me with all the errands.”
While his wife concluded her talk with Bartholomew, Wallace moved into the corridor, for he was overcome with surprising emotions he never thought he’d ever need to battle with. When Abigail joined him, she offered a soft smile as she closed the door. Tears welled in her eyes to match his own.
“I understand now why you were so adamant that we take the boy in.” She pressed her trembling lips together. “He has your looks and is quite intelligent, but mostly, he is yours, and for that, he deserves my attention.”
He nodded. “Bartholomew is ours, sweeting.” The fact that he dared to call her by an endearment was perhaps reckless, but she didn’t chastise him for it. “We have the responsibility of raising him together.”
“We do.” She met his gaze, and he almost tumbled into those blue pools. “I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved over the past few months.”
Dear God.
After each day that he’d devoted to courting her all over again, was she finally softening?
“There is no need for apologies. It was warranted, and you have my word nothing like that has happened again nor will it happen again.” He cleared his breath to dislodge the emotions sitting in his throat. “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes, of course.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I rather like that you and I have a little family now.”
“Oh?” He could scarcely breathe lest that slight action break the bond reforming between them. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’ve been a ninny.” Abigail came easily into his arms. When he gently kissed her as if he were introducing himself to her all over again, it was much like magic and how it always felt in her embrace.
When she pulled slightly away, she sought out his gaze, and he hoped to God she found what she needed in him.
“Take me to bed, Wallace. I can’t go another night without having you in my arms and moving in my body.
” Tears fell to her cheeks, and she brushed them away in some impatience. “I have missed you so much.”
“Ah, sweeting, I’ve missed you too.” With a soft cry of victory, he scooped her into his arms and carried her along the corridor to his suite. “You have no idea how hard these months have been without you in them.”
“I know, but I was so angry. There might still be days where I’m annoyed with you; I’d rather navigate through these choppy waters with you instead of without you.”
“My dearest love, that is how it always should be.”
It had been hard won, and he didn’t know if this Christmas truce would last, but if it didn’t, he swore he would continue to work toward it for as long as it took.
Because she would always have his heart.