How on earth was he ever to navigate this marriage when he was such a wreck of a man?
Tomorrow.
He would apologize tomorrow.
He sighed and stared at her door one last time.
Then took himself off to his own cold bed.
And tried, without success, to rid his mind of thoughts of what a wedding night could be, if only he were a slightly better man.
Leah heard Fox’sdoor close across the hall.
She pulled the counterpane up under her chin, sternly biting her bottom lip to stop its quivering.
A tear slipped down her cheek regardless.
Foolish.
So foolish.
Why would shegreitover this? Fox had been very clear as to the parameters of their marriage. She had known.
But after experiencing just a few hours of the reality of it here at Laverloch . . .
Her expectations had not been high, particularly for this evening. But somehow, even those low expectations had been dashed.
She had expectednotto have to cook dinner for five household servants, a coachman, a young girl, and one distracted, inebriated husband.
She had expected tospeakwith Fox once she arrived at her new home.
She had expected to meet Madeline before the girl disappeared into the nursery for the night.
Leah had expected that someone in the castle would have, at the very least, taken a thought as to where she would sleep.
But none of that had been the case.
After making dinner and setting the kitchens to rights, she had William show her the way to Fox’s library retreat. It was a lovely room with ample proportions, elegant bookcases, and cozy-looking furniture.
Her husband, however, was sound asleep before the fire—head lolled to the side of a wingback chair, soft snores echoing in the room. A glass beside an empty decanter of brandy told the rest of the story. How much had the man had to drink today? And more to the point, why had he felt it necessary?
Leah stared at him for a moment—the messy thatch of his hair, the whiskers on his chin, the lines bracketing his mouth—her heart aching. She wished she felt welcome to sit with him. To fetch her sewing basket and darn his stockings while he slept, content to simply be near. And then, maybe, when he awoke, he would read to her. A domestic, comfortable sort of scene. One she and Malcolm had enacted countless times over the years.
But, no. He hadn’t invited her into this space, and she was too wary of disrupting his sleep, too afraid of his rejection, to ask.
Not tonight.
And so she had left.
And somehow, eventhathadn’t been the most humiliating moment of the day.
No, that had come next—when she asked William to show her to her bedchamber.
The poor man had spluttered and blushed an unnatural tomato-red.
“The captain didnae say . . . that is, I mean . . . we assumed, being that it’s your wedding night and all . . . that ye would be sleeping in the . . .” William trailed off, apparently unequal to voicing words that would expose the depths of Leah’s shame.
Which was good, as Leah abruptly felt unequal to explaining it.
