The idea settled uneasily in his chest, a mingling of warmth and something sharper.
Why would she preserve all of this? Why keep his books, his liquor, his very presence in the house intact? It made no sense. She was the one who’d walked away. The one who’d left him to his title, to his duty. And yet…here it all was. As if for her, this house had remained their home.
And God help him, he still wanted it to be. He still loved her. Standing here in their home, amidst their things, surrounded by the props of their old life, he couldn’t summon the anger he had clung to all these years. All he felt was a longing so profound it nearly choked the breath out of his lungs.
And after watching Clara Phipps die, he couldn’t silence the terrifying thought that life was too fragile. Ephemeral. Dangerous. He might lose Alice too—this woman who refused to be protected, who insisted on throwing herself headlong into danger.
He set the decanter down with a hard clink and wandered toward the kitchen. Small, neat, functional. The air was cooler here, carrying the faint scent of coal dust and soap. They had never had live-in staff, only a maid-of-all-work who came by during the day. He set about lighting the range and setting a kettle to boil. It was the least he could do while he waited for her,to heat water for their bath upstairs. No. Not their bath. He had no right to think of it as such anymore.
He was stoking the fire higher when the front door opened. He walked towards the foyer slowly, calling out to her, not wanting to startle her with his unexpected presence.
She paused at the threshold. “Nathaniel. What are you doing here?” She looked tired, worn to the bone, her shoulders drooping beneath her plain cloak. But she didn’t seem startled to see him. Or displeased. Her calm acceptance of his presence was comforting.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” he countered quietly, meeting her gaze. “This is still my house. And you’re still my wife.”
“‘Still’ being the operative word.”
His lips curved, though without humor. “I’ve arranged for Mrs. Phipps to be interred next to her husband. It seemed…right.”
Her face softened, sorrow flickering in her eyes. “Thank you.” She let out a shaky breath. “I took the Phipps’ babies to the Duke and Duchess of Aycliffe. Josephine and Michael have agreed to take them in.”
Surprise tugged at his brow. “You know the duke and duchess well enough to call them by their given names? Or knock on their door in the middle of the night?”
“I do,” she replied simply. “Last year I was sent with John—that is, Lord Ardmore—to negotiate Lady Josephine’s release from Egypt. Since then, we’ve remained friends. She and a few other ladies have founded a charity for women in desperate straits. I help when I can.”
The mention of Lord Ardmore, her lover, was like a splash of cold water on his face, breaking the golden enchantment he had felt since he stepped foot in the house. Reminding him everything was not the same as before. The fact that she had slipped and called him by his given name was further proof oftheir intimacy. He felt the old anger rise in him, but he tamped it down ruthlessly. He didn’t want to think about that now. Not when they were getting along so well. When he felt more at home than he had in six years.
He regarded her, a wry smile ghosting his lips. “You’ve found a way to carve out a place for yourself in society after all.”
She shook her head. “I’ve done no such thing. I’m not part of their world, Nathaniel. I collaborate with them, but I’m not one of them.”
“But you are,” he said softly. “You are a viscountess. Their social equal.”
Her laugh was quiet and bitter. “No title is going to change what I am. They are all ladies born and bred. No matter how much I try to fit in, I’m the daughter of an actress, and a spy.”
“You can be anything you set your mind to. Play any role. You are brilliant, Alice.”
“Then maybe that’s a role I don’t want to play.”
Something inside him tightened. It wasn’t about him—not really—but it felt like rejection all the same. Why was she so against living in his world?
He pushed the thought aside. “I’m heating water for a bath. I’ll bring it up for you.”
“You already went upstairs?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Didn’t want to invade your privacy. I only…needed to be here.”
She studied him for a long moment, her tiredness softening into something warmer. “Thank you for coming,” she murmured. And then, “ I’m glad you are here.” The confession seemed torn from her soul.
There was a world of betrayal, pain, anger, and rejection still between them. Nothing had been resolved. The same issues that had torn them apart before were more valid than ever. But none of that mattered right now. It was the most natural thing to openher arms to her. And there was no hesitation on her part as she stepped into them.
Alice pressed her face into his chest, the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body so achingly familiar he could barely breathe. Her shoulders shook as her tears came—quiet at first, then harder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his coat. “I don’t know why—”
“Don’t apologize.” He pressed a kiss into her hair, holding her tighter. “I understand. God, I understand.”
He felt his own throat tighten, grief and longing and love coiling into a knot. For a moment, they simply stood there, holding on as if they could keep the rest of the world at bay.
