“No, it’s not.” He took her hand and squeezed it in both of his, wishing he could do more. But although he was awake, and he knew that for certain, his head ached and his limbs felt like water. He could not have put strength into them even if he wanted to.
Still, he had strength enough for this.
“I love you,” he told her. “I have loved you for far longer than I had ever dared admit to myself, because of my fear that you would leave me. I admit that at the beginning, I thought my life would be easier without you in it, but I was wrong, and it has been quite some time since I realized that. My life is incomplete without you by my side as my wife, with everything that entails.Thereisno one else. Not for me. I love you too dearly for that, far more than I ever loved Lydia, whatever you may think.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You always wanted her.”
“No.No. I thought I did when I was young and foolish and knew no better.”
“But the way you danced with her—”
“I only danced with her because you danced with Luke.” At the confusion filling her eyes, he brought her fingers to his lips. “I know now you meant nothing by it, but I could not bear standing by and watching you dance with him. That was an error of mine, but it meant nothing. I only ever wanted to discourage her from her pursuit—it meant nothing to her, either. She wanted me then because I had moved out of her reach.” He had come to that conclusion long ago. She’d had plenty of time to find him and seek him out since she had ended things. The fact she had only ever tried after his marriage proved to him it was a selfish pursuit, and her affections meant nothing.
She didn’t truly want to be his mistress. That would be disastrous to her reputation, and she had yet to marry. All she had wanted to prove was that she still had power over him.
Unfortunately for her, he had already fallen in love with Eleanor.
Tears spilled down Eleanor’s cheeks. “I thought you didn’t care for me in that way,” she whispered. “I thought I’d failed.”
“I was afraid once. But I am not afraid anymore.” He squeezed her fingers in his. “Can you forgive me?”
“Forgiveyou?”
“Yes.”
“Of course. There’s no question if you—” She swallowed. “If you really mean that you loveme, then what is there to forgive?”
“So much. I don’t deserve you.” He pulled her closer, then hesitated. “Can you call me a bath?”
She gave a little gurgle of laughter and came to lie beside him, tucking herself against his sweat-soaked body. “I don’t mind.”
“You should.” He winced as he adjusted, but with Eleanor against him, he felt as though he could finally rest in a way he had been unable to do until then.
“When you’re well, we can consider that.”
“I feel better now.” He turned and found her face closer than anticipated. Her eyelashes brushed his cheek as she lowered her gaze to his mouth.
“When you’re better,” she promised in a whisper. “Until then, my darling, sleep.”
His heart felt lighter than it had in years. Finally freed from his certainty that everyone he came to care for would leave him, the tension in his heart left him. Terrible things happened, that was true, but he had done his fair share of alienating the people who had been close to him. Lydia had been subject to all his insecurities, and they had become too much for her—she had been too young to handle his trauma.
Eleanor was not. And in return, he would open his heart to her once and for all.
It took a further four days for Sebastian to fully recover. Eleanor spent the majority of the time by his side, but when he slept—as he did often—she made plans for his recovery.
First was the flowers. She went into the garden and picked armfuls of roses and other blooms to place in vases on every surface. Then she continued ordering the curtains and draperies of various rooms to be replaced.
He had chosen her. Whenever she thought about it, her heart swelled as though it might burst free from her chest. He had chosenherand she would not take that lightly. And so, she made the decision to turn his house into theirhome.
A place where they could learn to live as one. As husband and wife for the rest of their days.
On the fourth day, she rose early and transformed the breakfast room, intending to return to his bedchamber later and escort him down herself. But upon hearing the brush of footsteps, she spun to find her husband in the doorway to the room, his eyes on the floral display behind her. She had gone as far as draping vines around the unlit candelabra.
“Oh,” she said stupidly. “You’re awake.”
“I was feeling a lot better this morning, and I missed you.” He advanced into the room, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It seems as though you have been busy.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
