A small victory.
“Mama,” Robby cried, then erupted into another fit of giggles mixed with the complex babble of his own language. “Bird!”
“Come and catch this bird, Mama,” Adrian invited her.
She was surprised he was including her in his easy camaraderie with their son. Indeed, it was the first time in the weeks since his sudden arrival and her subsequent consent to marry him that he had done so. Yet another small victory. Her feet were moving before her mind could even make sense of his request.
Holding Robby was far easier for Adrian when he was seated than when he was in a standing position because of his ankle. But he often lowered himself to the floor to play at soldiers with Robby, who adored nothing so much as grabbing a seated horseman in a chubby hand and stuffing it into his mouth.
She reached for her giggling son, and then he was in her arms, a beloved weight, so warm and precious and trusting. Intense gratitude rushed over her. For her son, for her son’s father, for how far they had come together merely to find themselves in this moment.
She mirrored Adrian’s actions, holding her son aloft as if he were a bird, making a great show of how impressive he was, how great his wings, and then peppering his soft, plump cheeks with kisses. For a time, her heart was content as she settled into a comfortable ease with the two of them.
It was, she could not help but to feel, exactly as things should have been, from the start. She would never forgive Longleigh for the time he had stolen from them, nor for the damage he had inflicted upon Adrian. She had always known Longleigh to be a villain, but she had never supposed he would carry his cruelty to such desperate, destructive lengths.
After a happy spell of time had passed, a knock at the door and the arrival of Robby’s governess interrupted them. She appeared uncertain as she hovered at the threshold, and Tilly realized the sight before her was as new to her as it was to them. It was the first time they had been able to openly be the family they were.
“Begging your pardons, Your Grace, Mr. Hastings,” the governess said, dipping into a curtsy. “It is past time the young duke should be abed for the evening. If you wish it, I will see him to sleep now.”
Tilly was reluctant for the sweetness of the moment to end, but she knew it must. Routines were very important for a child, and some time alone with her husband was also a welcome thought. If he would deign to speak with her, that was.
“Thank you, Weaver,” she told the governess. “We will leave you to get Robby settled for the evening.”
Adrian looked as if he might argue, but he had already risen from the rocking chair at Weaver’s appearance. Now, he took up his walking stick and made his way to Tilly and Robby. He kissed their son’s crown, having eyes only for the boy. “Sleep well, lad.”
“Papa!” Robby caught his father’s face in his plump hands and delivered a smacking kiss to Adrian’s nose.
Because Robby was still cutting teeth, his mouth was perpetually wet, and he left a good deal of glistening saliva in his wake. To his credit, Adrian neither grimaced nor groused. Instead, he calmly extracted a handkerchief and dabbed at the wetness.
If the governess deemed it odd that Robby was calling his mother’s husband of one day Papa, she did not dare give voice to her opinion. Tilly and Adrian bid their goodnights to their son, and then they left the nursery just as they had spent the bulk of their first day as husband and wife.
In silence.
* * *
She wantedhim to speak with her.
Adrian could sense the restlessness within Tilly as they walked together down the hall from the nursery. They had scarcely reached the stairs, just out of potential earshot of the governess, when she spoke.
“You did not come to dinner.”
He had been too distracted and tangled up inside to do so.
“I was not hungry,” he told her instead.
“In future, if you are not going to take dinner, please notify me so that I am not holding the meal in the vain hopes you will materialize, only to humiliate myself by dining with an empty place setting before the servants.”
Damn. He had not thought about that. He was unaccustomed to formal dinners.Hell, he was unaccustomed to dinner. At Dunsworth, his dinner had consisted of the barest of essentials, and even those paltry remains had often been spoiled or withheld from him.
“It was not my intention to humiliate you,” he managed to say.
He had been speaking a great deal. Far more than he had had in one day since his release from prison. The ease with which they had interacted in the nursery seemed to have dissipated. His ankle was paining him mightily. His head had begun to throb.
“Nonetheless,” she continued, “whether or not it was your intent, that is what happened. The Duke of Northwich is a bachelor. I do not know what manner of household he keeps, and I understand that you spent a great deal of time in rather unusual circumstances, however—”
“Prison,” he bit out, interrupting her. “I was in prison, however you may prefer to pretend I was not.”
Undoubtedly, she could not bring herself to approach the subject because of her own culpability. Her actions had consigned him there.
