“Fishing?” Malcolm asked, a note of wistful happiness in his voice. “I cannae remember when I last had the time tae go fishing.”
Even Ethan perked up at the prospect, lifting his head and blinking at them all.
Fox sliced his bacon.
Fishing again.
So . . .washis memory of that discussion last night correct?
And, if so, what else was truth?
Had his predilection for drink robbed him of the memory of kissing his wife’s creamy skin?
Leah’s expression gave nothing away.
“Well, that settles everything then.” She picked up her fork. “I think Major McAlpin left some tackle in one of the sheds. I’ll ask Mr. Wheeler tae find it for ye.”
She flashed a ghost of a smile at Fox, but he saw nothing hesitant in her gaze.
And no further scenes surfaced from last night.
Instead, Fox recalled his last fishing excursion—Dennis laughing, Honoria flirting, himself basking in a happy glow, oblivious to the shattering future just months away—
Fishing itself was a lovely activity.
The memories, however . . .
But given the hopeful expressions of everyone at the table, Fox expressed none of his reservations.
“Fishing sounds excellent,” he said and went back to slicing his bacon.
Leah saw herbrothers and Fox off with cheerful words and enthusiastic waving.
The men walked three-abreast up the glen—talking between themselves—long fishing rods bouncing over their shoulders, Fox leaning on his walking stick.
The sight did something to Leah’s heart. She hadn’t ever considered that her brothers might befriend Fox—they all three inhabited such different spheres—and yet, there they were.
Fox desperately needed friends, she suspected.
She had never thought of her husband as lonely, but after so many years surrounded by army companions, he had to feel their lack, did he not?
He might be uninterested in a true marriage between themselves, but she could try to be a good friend to him. And, she suspected, he would be a good friend to her in return.
It would have to be enough.
Thankfully, Fox gave no indication that he had any memory of her stairwell confession the night before.
Yet, the evening haunted her. The bits she had learned about him lingering in her mind.
The true origins of his wealth.
The strength required to heal from his injuries and then conquer his reliance on laudanum.
His dedication to Madeline.
And, of course . . . Susan.
He spat Honoria’s name and reverenced Susan.
