Oh.
That was . . . unexpected.
Leah had assumed he had forgotten about theircrabbitexchange, the memory swallowed up in an alcoholic haze.
She liked this about him, she realized. The ease with which he owned his wrongs and apologized, just as he had the morning after their wedding.
“Th-thank ye,” she stammered, surprise tangling her tongue.
Silence hung between them—fraught, hesitant.
“So . . .” He swallowed. “Did you sort the situation with the ironically-named Wee Tam?”
Leah smiled at that. “Aye. He and George Jamieson decided to take it in turns tae finish up their work, neither being here at the same time.”
“And may I ask, whyWeeTam?”
Leah’s smile broadened. “Well, ’tis the only name left him. His grandad, Auld Tam, is still alive, and Tam, his father, slates down in Arbroath. Ye are not the only one to find it humorous, as Wee Tam is easily three times the size of Auld Tam. But until Auld Tam passes on—heaven forbid—they cannae move the Tams all up a rung on the ladder, as it were.”
A grin wrinkled his cheeks, wide and open and utterly lovely.
Leah’s own heart skipped in response, that dratted ache taking root in her chest again.
Just when she thought she had reached some sort of equilibrium with this man, he up and scattered her wits with charming smiles and kind consideration.
Guilt gnawed at her.
How could she invade his privacy so, reading his personal correspondence?
It was a new low for her.
She needed to do better.
Shewoulddo better.
Perhaps, someday, Fox would share the information with her voluntarily. After all, he had readily agreed to uncrate all the items in this room. He could open up. Leah simply needed to be patient, to earn his trust.
But in order to do that, she needed to be trustworthy herself. She must respect his privacy.
To that end, she did not spare a glance for the two small chests under the window as she followed Fox out of the room.
True to his word, the very next day, Fox and William unpacked the carpets, furniture, and porcelain items, stacking them in the great hall for Leah to admire and put to use.
Leah didn’t seemuch of Fox over the following weeks.
They were married. They lived in the same castle. But she saw him only in passing and never alone. There was always Madeline or a servant or someone else present.
And the few moments she did speak with him, he was either charming and warm or irritable and snappish.
There was no in-between.
The barometer of his moods was entirely tied to the fullness (or lack thereof) of his whisky decanter.
Leah felt like they were more house-mates than anything else—two people leading separate lives who happened to occupy the same space. They didn’t even dine together, for heaven’s sake.
For the most part, Fox spent his time in the library, leaving only for the occasional walk up the hills or to join in the nearly daily panicked search for Madeline.
Mr. Dandy was entirely to blame. Madeline would disappear for an hour or two. They would rally the castle to try to find her—to no avail—only to have the child and cat magically reappear in the great hall or the kitchens or sometimes out in the gardens, Madeline laughing like it was all a grand lark. Fox threatened to put a leash on her.
