He snorted, a soft puff of air under her ear. “Your silence is rather damning, wife.”
“Nae.” She moved to sit up.
“Shush.” He held her against him. “You know I’m right, but you are too kind to say so. I want to be a better man. For Madeline. For yourself. I overcame the compulsion toward laudanum by cutting myself off from it.” He paused before continuing. “I need to do the same with alcohol.”
Leah said nothing.
Hewasright.
“How can I help?” she asked.
He let out another slow breath and kissed the top of her head. “I hate to request it, but I think it would be best if we removed every last drop of alcohol from Laverloch. Is that too much to ask? Could I enlist your help in this?”
Leah lifted her head, staring down into his blue eyes. Her hair fell in a curtain around them.
“I would be honored tae help ye in any way I can,” she replied. “No alcohol it is.” Her fingers traced his scar. “Ye have overcome so much, husband. Ye will conquer this, too.”
He lifted her hand off his chest and kissed her fingertips.
“Tell me,” she asked. “How dreadful was your injury in truth?”
“Dreadful. I survived.” He tugged her down. “Which is a good thing, as I am finding I quite enjoy being here with you.”
He kissed her at that.
And every other thought scattered to the wind.
For Leah, thefollowing weeks passed in a blurry haze of exhilaration and physical pleasure.
No wonder new brides always had a sort of dazed, wondering expression upon their faces. Leah felt roaringfouon contented happiness.
True to his word, Fox ceased drinking. Full stop.
However, the going was not easy. He spent several days in bed, fighting nausea and vomiting. Then the headaches arrived. Her husband drank his weight in willow bark tea in an attempt to relieve the pain.
But the worst were the three nights that tremors wracked his body. Leah held him then, tears streaming down her cheeks as he battled his demons.
As the most taxing symptoms eased, Fox shifted into a sort of restlessness. Some evenings, Leah would find him pacing his library, a caged lion desperate for freedom. In those moments, she would press a hand to his chest and her lips to his, whispering, “How might we distract your thinking?”
Fox always had a suggestion.
Within two weeks, he appeared . . . better. Nowhere close to cured, but on the mend.
The tremors and nausea ceased. The restless agitation retreated from a raging beast to a more manageable roar.
Fox filled his days with fishing and attending to his correspondence. In the evenings, Leah dined with him, Madeline often joining them afterward in his library. Fox began reading to them both—Mr. Dicken’s most recent serial,Oliver Twist, was Madeline’s current favorite—while Leah stitched.
The three of them even went fishing together one afternoon, Fox carrying tackle and Leah a picnic basket. Madeline had skipped and bounced between them until Fox and Leah were each forced to take one of her hands to keep the girl still. Naturally, Madeline had seen that as a game, as well, hanging and swinging from their arms like a monkey.
And then, as they sat beside the river watching the wee girl splash in the shallows, Fox regaled Leah with Madeline’s antics of years past. How she had pretended to be a dog for nearly a month as a three-year-old. How she pitched tantrums when denied a favorite treat, holding her breath until she passed out.
“Madeline nearly stopped my heart with her fits, the wretch,” he said on a laugh. “She would lie there, looking like death, and then between one moment to the next, she would pop up, right as rain.”
Leah had laughed with him.
It all felt positively domestic. Familial, even.
After all, theywerea family, Leah supposed. The sort of family she had always yearned to have.
