“Whatever is the matter, William?”
“I was coming tae ask yourself the same thing.”
“Ye were?”
“Aye,” he nodded. “The letter appears tae have been bad news.”
“The letter?”
“Aye. John delivered the post just an hour ago.” Another nod. “It must have been something awful tae have had this effect.”
Oh, dear.
“Perhaps ye should start at the beginning, William.”
Moments later, Leahknocked hesitantly on the library door.
“Bloody go away!” Fox shouted.
Leah faltered, both at the profanity and her husband’s slurred words.
William was right, then. Fox had received a letter and immediately proceeded to drink his weight in whisky.
She and Fox had been dancing around one another since Malcolm and Ethan had left.
Fox had retreated further into his library, the sober, charming version of him appearing less and less.
For her part, Leah had buried herself in household matters, trying to ignore her heart’s growing heaviness. The worry that her relationship with Fox was already too broken to ever become whole.
And now . . . a letter.
The Leah of two months ago would have scuttled away, unsure how to respond and, therefore, choosing to avoid her husband. But now, she knew that Fox was mostly bark and only a little bite. That the greater his pain, the deeper he retreated.
She had allowed this stalemate between them to go on long enough.
At the moment . . . he needed the ear of a friend, and she could be that for him.
Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door.
The library windows were shuttered, the gathered clouds outside only increasing the sense of gloom.
Fox sat slumped in his favorite chair before the spluttering hearth, the firelight casting him in planes of amber and shadow, a glass of whisky in his right hand. A letter lay open on the wee table beside him.
Melancholy draped the room, hanging from the cornices like mourning crepe.
Swallowing, Leah crossed to the nearest window and opened the shutters, allowing the weak late-morning light to flood the room.
Her husband speared her with a belligerent glance and then downed the remaining finger of whisky in his tumbler.
Her heart sank as her stomach churned.
“Would ye like tae talk about it?” she motioned toward the foolscap at his elbow.
He sliced his head in a quick motion, left to right.No.
“May I bring ye a breakfast roll and some tea from the kitchen?”
Again, a stern slash of the head.No.
