“And what do ye know now?” She couldn’t help but ask.
He was quiet for a long moment. And then, “That everyone leaves me eventually, one way or another.”
Oof.The desolation behind such words.
Though she disliked his drinking habit, she couldn’t quite regret it at the moment. It had a way of nudging her husband to speak truths. And right now, she needed truth.
Her conscience pointed out that she was taking advantage of Fox in this state. That he would not speak so plainly were he sober. But if she wished to successfully navigate her life with him, sheneededto know more.
And so she looked into his eyes, dark pools in the flickering candlelight, and asked, “Is that why ye drink? Because they are . . . gone?”
He stared at her for so long she thought he perhaps hadn’t heard her. That the drink had finally addled what remained of his wits.
Overhead, she could hear Malcolm whinging something about his feet and William’s laughing reply. A gust of wind outside flickered the sconces spiraling up the staircase wall.
Eventually, Fox stirred. “No. I suppose I drink because I refuse to take laudanum. Whisky is the lesser of two evils.”
Leah nearly hissed in a breath at that.
Laudanum? What—?!
“I took a direct hit from a raj’s saber.” He pointed at his neck and the scar there, tracing a path from his throat down his chest, indicating the length of the wound. Pushing off the wall, he leaned back into her and began slowly climbing the stairs again. “I should have died. Iwantedto die at times, the pain was so intense. But I had Susan waiting for me, depending on me, and so I took laudanum instead. Anything to live.”
“Susan.” Leah said the woman’s name like a hosanna. Like a magical incantation that might unlock the mystery of him. “You lived for . . .Susan.”
Susan.
Not Honoria but . . . Susan.
Who, for heaven’s sake, wasSusan?
“Aye,” he whispered, his breath puffing against her neck and sending gooseflesh flaring along her spine. “Susan . . . and Madeline.”
“Madeline.”
“They were in Madras, you see. Alone, without me. I had to reach them, but I was too weak. Too injured. It took me nearly a year to return to Madras, and by then . . .” His voice trailed off, words slurring. He stumbled on the next step. Leah caught him, her free hand fisting into his waistcoat. “I was too far gone into laudanum. My body had healed, but at what cost? I was an opium-eater . . . useless to help Susan or care for Madeline. I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t stop what happened from . . . happening.” His voice caught.
Leah’s heart nearly broke at the pain in his words. An opium-eater?
And Susan and Madeline? The two were a matched pair, it seemed. Was Susan Madeline’s mother then? The woman in the letters? Or was Susan perhaps another child?
And what had happened to Susan? What had Fox been trying to protect her from?
“Will ye tell me what happened?” Leah dared to ask.
Fox stopped, staring sightlessly, and then shook his head,No. A decisive cutting motion. He dipped to the side, sagging wearily, his skull once more leaning against the stone wall of the stairwell.
She tugged him upright and urged him upward. He came sluggishly, the alcohol weighing down his feet. “Ye must have loved her very much, this Susan.”
“Yes.” His voice so very quiet. “I loved her with all my heart. I willneverstop loving her.”
So Susan was one of these dead he mourned.
They continued to climb, slowly but surely.
“But . . . ye are no longer an opium-eater.” Leah knew this. She had seen what an excess of laudanum could do to a person. Fox had his weaknesses, but opium was not one of them. “That must have taken tremendous willpower tae overcome.”
“I had no choice.” He laughed at that, a crack of sound that caused her to jump. “If I wished Madeline . . . to have a future, I couldn’t take laudanum. Had to make myself fit to care for her.”
