Fortunately, the longer he went without drink, the easier the way became.
He pondered, more than once, the far-reaching consequences of the madness tainting the women in his family. At times, it felt like an oily miasma slithering through his life, soiling everything it had touched—Susan’s death, Fox’s own drinking, his capacity to trust.
It took all his power to keep it from tarnishing Madeline.
He loved his niece as his own, and he would fight for her to have a future free from the blight of illegitimacy. Now he simply waited for the Court of Arches to hear the matter and prayed fervently that nothing reached the ears of those who could send the whole house of cards tumbling with a single stroke of a pen.
News of the trial date finally came on a dreary afternoon nearly six weeks after Leah had come for Fox in the storm. As it had that day in thecorrie, rain pattered against the windows of his library.
Madeline sat in the window seat, attempting to coax Mr. Dandy out of hiding behind the curtains with a bit of string.
Leah embroidered a handkerchief before the fire.
William brought the post in on a silver salver—Fox silently thanking the poor soul who had braved the elements to deliver it up the glen.
“Is all well?” Leah asked into the quiet, her eyes not missing the intensity of Fox’s face as he devoured the correspondence.
“Yes,” he replied truthfully. “I shall have to away to London next month.” His eyes darted toward Madeline. “Business to attend to.”
Fox pretended not to see the question in his wife’s eyes. Part of him hated the oaths that tied his tongue, but he had held this secret so close and for so long . . . it nearly seemed an integral component of his very person now.
He had not come this far to jeopardize Madeline’s safety and future now.
“Mr. Dandy won’t come out from behind the curtain.” Madeline marched over to Fox’s chair, the string dangling in her hand, her arms crossed and fine eyebrows drawn into a scowl.
“Sometimes cats dinnae want tae play,” Leah offered, her voice soothing.
“He’s being . . .impediment,” Madeline insisted.
A grin twitched at Fox’s mouth. “Do you meanobstinate?”
Madeline’s frown deepened and then her eyes turned calculating.
Fox wasn’t quite sure he trusted that look.
The girl shrugged and pulled the length of string through her fingers.
“Isobstinatethe correct word . . . Mamma?” She turned to Leah.
His wife froze. The nameMammaricocheted around the library walls.
Madeline had not been old enough to ever call her own motherMamma.
Leah met Fox’s eyes over Madeline’s head. He clearly saw the question there.
He floundered, not knowing how to respond.
His niece needed a mother. Leah was the woman nominated for the position.
He hesitated too long.
And Madeline, like children everywhere, exploited his indecision, taking it for acquiescence.
“Well, Papa,” she said, turning to him, “I thinkobstinateis the correct word.”
Papa.
Fox’s heart gave a painful thump.
