Still dressed in his sleep-rumpled day coat and stinking of alcohol, Fox decided he was an utter disgrace of a man.
A man who owed his wife an apology.
Again.
Leah’s words rang in his ears.
I may belong tae ye now, Fox Carnegie, but I refuse tae be down-trodden.
The evening before, the echo of her voice had pinged and bounced in his head, requiring an astonishing amount of whisky to silence.
And now, head throbbing, stomach tender, body sore, he could only think of reaching for the bottle and beginning once more to drown her voice.
Alcohol certainly held no solutions to his problems. But it definitely offered a temporary reprieve.
Yet . . . he paused.
Because even in his sodden state, Fox realized that such an urge was deeply alarming.
He sagged back in his favorite chair—a tufted wingback upholstered in blue velvet—thoughts blurry and soft around the edges.
Could he resist—
Smack!
Madeline threw open the library door, bursting into the room in a riot of motion and sound.
“I cannot abide Mr. Dandy,” she declared, crossing to Fox. “Not one more minute.”
“Madeline.” Her name emerged half weariness, half groan.
Though he would brave any worldly horror for the child, Fox doubted he was capable of dealing with her at this precise moment in time.
He leaned his head against the high back of the chair, the pounding behind his eyes prodigious.
“You must help me find him.” She tugged on his hand. “He let me pet him this morning, but now he is beingdespicable.”
Ah.A new word.
Fox snorted and then winced as his head pulsed in reply, vertigo assailing him. Nausea crawled up his throat.
“Find Bethany to help you.” He pulled his hand free, covering his eyes, swallowing hard. “I’m not to be disturbed.”
“You’re always ‘not to be disturbed.’” Madeline climbed into his lap, her bony knees digging into his thighs. Fox grunted. “This cannot wait until you areundisturbed.” She pried his hand from his eyes, peeled up his eyelids, and held his cheeks between her small palms as was her wont, glaring with her bright blue eyes. “I need to find my cat. Now.”
He didn’t care about that damn cat. He wanted—no,needed—peace and quiet.
Frustration sparked in Fox’s chest, a predictable response to his aching head, his roiling stomach, and his ward’s stubborn insistence.
“Enough, Madeline.” He lifted her off his lap. “Go find Bethany and she can help—”
“Is Leah my mother now?”
The question caught Fox off-guard and felt frighteningly similar to a saber slash to the chest. He would know, after all.
“P-pardon?” he stammered.
“Is Leah to be my mamma?” Madeline tilted her head, the words inflected with curiosity and nothing else. “My first mamma is with the angels, you say. Does that mean I get a new one now?”
