Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption (7 page)

“I sat in the corner. I didn’t wish to be accused of disrupting my sister’s place as queen of her court.” Lily rolled her eyes.

She could see the room, as she studied the men there to court her sister.

“And you,” she murmured. She looked down into Robert’s sleeping face, but saw it as it had been that day. Full of life. A wide jawline that matched broad shoulders.

Bold blue eyes that had been turned in her direction.

Looking at her.

“You were the only one who saw me.” The air had charged when he met her gaze. When he offered her a smile that barely curved his lips but set his eyes alight.

“I spent the entire time trying not to watch you but I failed.” That anticipation had made it impossible to do more than write the same words in her journal, over and over. She didn’t even recall what they were.

“I just wanted you to look at me again.”

He had, that day. Joy had spurted inside of her, in a new way, something she’d never felt before. Lily’s eyes cleared, the memory mist gone from her eyes, and she was looking at Robert. This Robert, who was looking at no one.

His gaze
had
slid her way again that first day.

The memory of that exact moment was forever inside of her, an explosion of light and color that painted itself on her mind in perfect, lasting permanence. All she had to do was close her eyes. She could feel the sun on her back. She could breathe in the subtle fragrance of the lavender that had sat on the table next to her. She could relive the awakening inside of her that hadn’t let go.

Until he’d let go of her.

Lily looked down at her hand, fingers intertwined with his, giving him her warmth, taking his.

“I didn’t choose yesterday, Robert.” Her confession was a whisper. “I waited for you for three days. It wasn’t supposed to be that day.” She tilted her head down. “I can’t believe I forgot. I’m so sorry.” Lily couldn’t say who she was apologizing to, but her lack of awareness felt like a betrayal to the baby she had wanted so much, and the shame pushed her shoulders inward.

She slid away from him, brought her hands to wrap around her waist. Robert would wake up, and she doubted he would want her holding his hand.

In fact, he might not wish her to be here at all.

The thought was a low punch right in her belly. Suddenly, exhaustion rolled through her and she realized how late it was. She pushed the heel of her hand against her eyes to rub out the sand.

“My lady.” Edwin stood at the door.

This time she didn’t argue.

“If he wakes, come and get me.” When he woke, he might not want to see her but Lily couldn’t worry about that now.

In minutes, she was lying in bed, aware that Robert lay in his just down the hall. That in itself was a rarity. It was a sad state indeed when it took a head injury for them to both sleep under the same roof.

***

“Good morning, my lady,” Anna said. “Cook sent up a tray for you.”

Lily blinked the sleep from her eyes, disoriented. “What…” She looked around her old room, stripped bare of the small comforts they had packed away. It was impersonal, unconnected. What was she doing here?

Robert’s accident.

The night before rushed back, and Lily’s heart hitched. Lily slid from her bed and found her clothes, clean and brushed, on the edge of the bed.

“Mr. Melrose?” she asked.

Anna shook her head. “No change.”

Lily ate and dressed quickly. No change or not, she wanted to see for herself. When she arrived at his door, Edwin looked up from his perch on a chair at Robert’s bedside.

Lily halted. She wasn’t sure why, but she’d never felt truly comfortable around Edwin. He always seemed coiled, ready to jump. Not that she believed he would ever hurt her—quite the opposite in fact. Perhaps it was the sense of undying loyalty that so unnerved her.

“Lady Melrose,” he said as he stood up.

Lily stopped at the edge of the bed. She couldn’t take her eyes off Robert. His skin had grown more pale, or perhaps it was the contrast of the deepening, angry purples and blues that bled into his hairline around his forehead.

He appeared…tranquil. Despite the ugly bruises, it was the uncommon smoothness of his features, the soft line of his brow instead of the deep slashes she had seen so often. The tension that thinned his mouth into a silent line was missing.

It was startling.

“Any change?” she asked.

“No. He hasn’t moved.”

“Why did you bring him here?”

“Mr. Melrose doesn’t care for hospitals. He finds them appalling places of disease. He’d prefer to be home.”

“He doesn’t?” she murmured. She hadn’t known that, not that it was an uncommon thought. But then again, the list of things she didn’t know about her husband was long enough to pave a path to Ireland.

Just another reminder of how small a part she had played in his life. How little they shared.

She angled toward the door.

Edwin stepped away from the chair. “Stay. He would appreciate knowing you were by his side.”

Lily’s gaze jerked to Robert’s servant. “Why would you say that?”

Edwin blinked, the only movement in a calm, unmoving face. “Because it’s the truth.” His words were plain spoken, unvarnished. Because of that, she almost believed him.

She wanted to believe him.

What did that say about her? Tension coiled through her, uncertainty rose in her throat. He’d hurt her, time and again, by his utter lack of interest, by his flagrant nights away and behavior. Even in his still, ghostlike state, he had the power to fling pain at her.

“I don’t imagine he would appreciate my presence when he awakens,” she admitted, unsure of why she would tell his man such things.

Edwin paused. “I believe it would bring him peace.” He moved past her toward the door. “Peace is something that rarely existed in his life.”

Edwin escaped the room before Lily could press him. What had Edwin meant?

She allowed herself to sit on the edge of the chair, ready to flee. She knew so little of what Robert’s life had been like prior to their marriage. He’d never been one for confidences, and after the…well,
after
, he hadn’t shared anything of his present, much less his past.

She touched her fingers to the tips of his. His familiar warmth gave her a sense of belonging—fleeting though it would be.

“Good morning. It’s time to wake up, you know.”

He didn’t move, didn’t react.

She settled into the chair, arm outstretched, their fingers providing a bridge. The urge to be frank bubbled in her throat. After years of attempts that ended with Robert escaping the room to avoid conversations, now she couldn’t stop thinking about the talks they should have had. The things she had wanted to say. “You have made me so angry, do you know that?”

He didn’t answer. “Of course you know that. This is silly. This conversation is not all that different from others we’ve had, come to think of it. A lot of my words and very little of yours. At least this way, you’re forced to stay in one place.”

Silence.

“What happened to you?” Her words held a sad wonder, a longing to understand that went far beyond yesterday’s accident. “What did Edwin mean? Why haven’t you had a peaceful life?”

Lily sighed. Whether conscious or not, Robert wasn’t going to share. But she couldn’t leave. Not until she knew he was going to be all right.

An unwelcome thought crept in. She couldn’t shut it out, and knew it should propel her toward the door, but she didn’t move.

But she knew, all the same, that were the roles reversed, Robert wouldn’t have stayed.

Three days later, Lily was losing hope.

Robert hadn’t grown any worse but he hadn’t improved, either.

He had, however, grown quite in need of a bath.

Lily took in a deep breath and picked up the bowl Mrs. Tandy had filled with water. She’d mentioned it to Edwin, but his look of horror made it clear bathing Robert had not been part of his duties. Very well. She needed to do something, anything other than sit by his side and have one-sided conversations with him.

She had sent a note to her brother’s house the morning after the accident, once the fog had cleared, letting them know her decision to stay until he woke up.

Of course, every day Robert didn’t wake up made the prospect of that happening dimmer. The grief that weighted her body surprised her. She felt it in the exhaustion in her limbs, in the ache in her chest.

But right now, her husband needed a bath, and she was the woman to do it.

Lily set the bowl on the bed next to his still form and rolled up her sleeves to her elbows. She stared at his face, watching for any sign of movement, any twitch that might indicate this was all an elaborate scheme. For what, she couldn’t fathom, but the ridiculous thought crossed her mind anyway.

When he appeared unchanged, she dipped the rag into the water and rubbed the soap against it until bubbles began to form. Her stomach fluttered as she turned to her husband.

The blanket that covered him would need to be removed.

It was pathetic, really, for her to be this nervous. She’d seen him unclothed before. The first year of their marriage, she had seen him quite a lot. She’d had the glorious right of running her hands over his body often and with enthusiasm.

Each time he had touched her, she’d tumbled deeper, further in love with him. But that love had always been laced with anxiety. She had never stopped wondering, questioning what he felt.

When the miscarriage happened, he’d stopped any attempts at making their marriage work and her fears had tipped to a boiling point. Cordelia had been his first choice, and she’d tortured herself with that knowledge.

Lily set the bowl of soapy water on the table next to the bed, watching as it sloshed onto the wood. Reliving the past was
not
helping.

She grabbed the edge of the blanket and peeled it back.

He had changed.

She recalled hints of definition, but now the muscles were defined, taut across the body that held not one ounce of fat. What had he done with himself? When?

His stomach was a hard, flat surface with the smallest indentations that outlined his muscles, even in rest. He was lean, from top to bottom. Broad shoulders that tapered down into a trim waist and ended in long, muscled legs that had tangled with hers, captured hers. Made her feel connected.

It had been so long since they had touched, in any way. Not even a gesture of comfort, of welcome. Nothing.

Years of nothing.

With a mind of its own, her hand landed on his stomach. The hard heat of him made her jump and she snatched back her shaky hand, then lifted it to her toasted face.

The room felt warm. This was ridiculous. There was nothing sensual about giving a sponge bath to a man who had the current mental faculties of…well, a sponge.

It was like bathing a child, really.

“Lady Melrose?”

Lily snapped her head up. “What?” Mrs. Tandy raised her brows, and Lily sighed. “I am sorry, Mrs. Tandy. I’m just tired.”

Mrs. Tandy entered the room, bearing another pitcher of water, which she set on the sideboard. “You’ve been by his side for hours. You need a break. That is what I’ve come to tell you.”

“That I need a break?” Lily asked wryly. When she was snapping at servants, that much was obvious.

“In a manner of sorts. Your sister is here. She brought some of your things.” A flash of sadness shuttered her features. “Though I wish they’d never left in the first place. It’s… well, if I may say so, it’s not the same without you.”

Lily picked up the rag and dropped it into the bowl of water. “Mrs. Tandy, you’ve been such a wonderful housekeeper. I wish I could take you with me.”

“You’re too kind to say that.” Mrs. Tandy moved closer, lifting her hand to shoo Lily out of the room. “Now, go visit with your sister. Mr. Melrose will be here when you return, I don’t imagine any different than he is now.”

Lily leaned from side to side, feeling the aches in her back and her neck. She reached up to rub the offending muscles. “I believe I will.”

She was happy Aria had come. Over the years of Aria and Adam’s marriage, Aria had become more of a sister than the words ‘in-law’ accounted for. They’d long since stopped using them. It was just like Aria to bring Lily’s things herself and not send a servant.

Lily took in a deep breath to still her nerves and smiled. Aria was pregnant, and Lily hoped Aria would share her news.
After
a lecture about Lily’s decision, no doubt.

She headed down the stairs and hit the foyer floor. “Aria, thank you so much for bringing some things over. I don’t think—” She stopped as her sister entered the foyer.

Her
other
sister. “Cordelia.”

Cordelia swept closer and gestured toward a large bag that sat on the floor. “Your things. Aria put them together for you. Clothes and of course, some of your books.”

“And you brought them.” She was stating the obvious, but the reasons behind the obvious weren’t so clear.

Cordelia shrugged. “Someone had to.”

“And Aria sent you?” Lily asked, trying to understand what her sister-in-law could have been thinking. She had to know it was the last thing Lily would want.

Cordelia lifted a shoulder. “Aria wasn’t feeling well. She had everything prepared for a servant to bring, but I thought I would help.” She glanced at the stairs. “What happened?”

Just like that, Lily knew. Cordelia didn’t care about her. She was here for Robert.

Lily picked up her bag, found it heavy, and turned to the staircase. “It’s none of your business what happened. Thank you for bringing my things. You may go now.”

Fury propelled her up the stairs.

Cordelia had heard that Robert had an accident and thought it was the perfect time to make her presence known?

She made it to the upper level and without halting, dropped her bag at her door then continued to Robert’s. Mrs. Tandy stood over him, placing towels around to help dry the wetness.

“That was a quick visit,” she commented.

“I had no wish to dally.” She squared her shoulders. “I want to get this over with.”

This time, however, bathing him didn’t give her the same feeling, when it had seemed like it was just the two of them alone in the world, with him dependent on her. Now she looked at him and saw the man who had been a stranger.

The thought stampeded out any warmth she had felt. Knowing that her sister had stood in her house—well, no, it wasn’t her house any longer.

Cordelia obviously hoped to move right in.

Lily grabbed the soggy rag and plopped it on Robert’s chest, watching as the water slipped and slid around, down his sides. He deserved a little uncomfortableness.

She was a saint for doing this.

She grabbed the rag and began to scrub, unmindful of the pressure she applied. She scrubbed his arms, under his arms, his neck.

She had to fight the urge to dump the bowl of water over his head. Anger had bubbled up and she had free rein to take it out on him.

“Are you bathing him or attacking him?”

Lily dropped the sponge and heard the wet splat as she met the amused gaze of her unwanted sister. She watched as Cordelia’s gaze slid down to Robert, taking him all in.

“I asked you to leave.”

Cordelia shrugged and walked closer. “I chose not to listen. It’s a perk of being such an awful person.”

Lily refused to rise to the bait. She grabbed the rag.

“Lily, what happened to him?” Cordelia’s words were soft, uncertain. “Is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t know.” Lily dropped the rag into the bowl and lifted it. “He hasn’t woken up once.”

Cordelia lifted her gaze from Robert’s naked torso. “You’re going to stay until he’s well?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Perhaps not. But you chose to take an extended leave from your life and move out of your home and now here you are, playing nursemaid. Have you no pride? He doesn’t even know you’re here.”

“What I do is my business.”

Cordelia sighed in exasperation. “So you’ve said, twice now. Is it so hard to believe that I could be worried about you?”

Lily set the bowl down with a thud. “Since when?”

“Oh no, you do not get to play the sole victim here. I—”

“You lied.” Lily’s tone had flattened out as the full memory of that night came crashing back.

“You met with Robert,
my
suitor behind my back.”

“The one you told me you were allowing to call upon you because he evened up the numbers of your suitors. That suitor?”

“He had nothing, and I allowed him to court me.”

“How magnanimous of you. I suppose you should be thanking me then,
Duchess
.”

Cordelia stiffened. “My husband was a good man.”

“You got what you set out for—prestige and power. That was what you wanted. You never cared about love. You said yourself you never cared about Robert. He was a conquest, someone to make you feel good about yourself. He fed your ego.” The words that spit out were unkind and ugly, but she couldn’t seem to shut her mouth.

“You never cared how I might feel when you met with Robert without my permission.”

“Your
permission
? We didn’t need your permission to talk to each other, Cordelia. That is all we did.
Talk
. I cared about him. You hated losing.”

“You’re right.” The snapped off ends of her words offered a warning. “Because how could I lose to
you
?”

The barb hit with a force that near doubled Lily over. There it was. The unvarnished truth.

“Get out.”

“Gladly.”

Cordelia left. Lily looked at Robert’s still form and reached out a hand to shake him. “Wake up, Robert. Wake up, damn you!”

She shouldn’t be here.

If he hadn’t gotten in his accident, she wouldn’t be here playing nursemaid to a man she’d left. She hated that Cordelia’s words echoed in her head.

What Cordelia didn’t realize is that she hadn’t lost. She’d won. Robert had wanted her all along. No matter how Lily had tried, she’d never been enough. After she’d lost the baby, he’d stopped pretending otherwise.

Lily had to go home.

Whether Robert recovered or not was not her responsibility anymore. It never had been in the first place. She couldn’t get caught in believing she mattered to him.

She dropped the rag into the bowl of cold water.

She was done.