Hugo leaned back in his chair, observing his wife and daughter with something approaching satisfaction. Rosalie was chattering happily about the upcoming Season, her earlier dangerous notions apparently forgotten. And Sybil…
Sybil was looking at him as though he’d accomplished something remarkable simply by not shouting at his daughter.
The realization was humbling. Had his previous behavior really been so harsh that basic patience seemed praiseworthy?
Yes,his conscience answered uncomfortably.And she’s the reason you’re learning to do better.
He caught Sybil’s eye across the table and held her gaze for a moment longer than strictly proper. The admiration he saw there, the warmth and something that might have been pride, sent satisfaction coursing through him.
She’s proud of me. When was the last time anyone was proud of something I’d done rather than simply impressed by my title or wealth?
The answer, like so many others lately, was never.
Hugo allowed his gaze to drop to Sybil’s mouth one more time, noting how she’d been unconsciously biting her lower lip while lost in thought. The innocent gesture sent heat shooting through him, accompanied by the increasingly familiar urge to discover what she was thinking about so intently.
Dangerous territory. Keep things cordial and practical.
But even as he reminded himself of the boundaries of their arrangement, Hugo couldn’t quite suppress the growing certainty that those boundaries were shifting beneath his feet.
And perhaps,he thought, watching his wife’s face light up as she discussed plans for Rosalie’s Season,that’s exactly as it should be.
The morning sun streamed through the breakfast room windows, illuminating the domestic scene with golden warmth. And for the first time in years, Hugo found himself thinking that perhaps he was exactly where he belonged.
Chapter Nineteen
The basket crashed to the ground, glass vials shattering in a symphony of destruction that sent the scent of chamomile and feverfew spiraling into the morning air.
Sybil stared at the ruins of her carefully prepared herbal remedies, her heart hammering against her ribs as Hugo’s furious voice echoed off the stone walls of the Assembly room entrance.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
She spun to face him, confusion warring with indignation as she took in his thunderous expression. He stood in the doorway like an avenging angel, his amber eyes blazing with a fury she hadn’t seen since the incident with Leah’s creatures.
What is he so angry about? I was only trying to help.
“I was bringing remedies for the girls who’ve taken ill,” she said, gesturing helplessly at the scattered glass and crushed herbs at her feet. “Margaret sent word that several of them have developed coughs and?—”
“Remedies.” The word came out like a curse. “You were administering untested preparations to children in my care.”
“They’re perfectly safe,” she protested. “Chamomile for settling stomachs, willow bark for fever, and honey and lemon for sore throats. Nothing more dangerous than what any competent housekeeper might prepare.”
“Any competent housekeeper,” Hugo repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet tone, “would have consulted with the household physician before dosing sick children with homemade concoctions.”
“These are established remedies,” she said, her own temper beginning to flare. “I’ve used them successfully for years at the orphanage. The girls know and trust these preparations.”
“The girls are not your responsibility anymore.” Each word felt like a sharp blade to her skin. “They are under my protection now which means any treatment must be properly supervised.”
“So, you’d rather they suffer needlessly while waiting for a physician who may not arrive for hours?” she demanded. “When simple, harmless remedies could provide immediate relief?”
“I’d rather they receive proper medical attention from qualified practitioners instead of experimental treatments from someone with no formal training.”
No formal training.The dismissal stung more than it should have, particularly coming from the man who’d seemed so impressed by her knowledge just yesterday.
“I may not have formal training,” she said through gritted teeth, “but I have eight years of experience treating everything from scraped knees to serious fevers. These girls are alive and healthy because of my care.”
“Are they?” Hugo stepped closer, his presence filling the narrow corridor. “Or have you simply been fortunate that your amateur remedies haven’t caused serious harm?”
“You arrogant—” She stopped herself just in time though her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “How dare you question my competence when you’ve seen the results of my work firsthand?”
