That seemed to soothe Verity. She relaxed against the mound of pillows, her breathing growing more even, eyes closed. It wasn’t until she was truly asleep that Everett felt some of the tension leaving him. Sybil wordlessly returned the laudanum to its place and sat at his side once more, reaching for his hand. He laced their fingers together, grateful for her presence, her comfort, her love.
Grateful forher, full stop.
Mamanreturned shortly thereafter to resume her bedside vigil.
“You are certain you want to stay the night?” he asked.
“She is my daughter,”Mamansaid. “There is nowhere else I would rather be than here with her when she needs me. Besides, Linsdale has promised that she will attend me, bringing sweets and tea whenever I require them through the night. Such a dear woman. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
His mother’s companion was ever a boon.
“Very well, then,” he said, rising from his chair along with Sybil. “We shall take our leave for the night. But don’t hesitate to wake me should you require anything at all, or if her condition worsens.”
His voice broke on the last word, the last thought. The Everett he had once been would have been hideously embarrassed by such a show of emotion. By such weakness, such open vulnerability. But that Everett had been a stupid arse, too willing to believe that the woman he loved had betrayed him.
He knew the reason for it now—believing the worst of Sybil had made it easier to protect himself. Far better to guard his heart if she was a treacherous liar like Lydia had been. Far simpler to never allow himself to feel.
The Everett he had once been could go to the devil. He was a new man now. One who, he hoped, could someday deserve the woman at his side. That would take time and deliberation and intent. He would begin tonight.
“She shan’t worsen,”Mamansaid sternly. “I’ll not allow it.”
His mother was stubborn. He had likely inherited that trait from her. And so had Verity. He had to believe that stubbornness would get her through what was to come.
He and Sybil bid his mother good evening, and then they left together, closing the door quietly behind them. When they were alone, walking toward their chambers to retire for the night, she turned to him.
“At least she has returned to her senses. I know it is difficult to see her this way, but I have faith that she will be restored to her former self, and soon.”
“I hope and pray that she is.”
“She shall.” Sybil was adamant.
And he took comfort in that. In her.
He pulled her closer to him as they walked, sliding an arm around her waist and not giving a damn if he was being scandalous. The glorious scent of vanilla and tuberose invaded his senses, chasing the stale smoke that had hung in the air in Verity’s bedchamber.
They reached their suite of rooms, and he guided them to his door. Tonight, he wasn’t paying a call on her in her bedroom in civilized fashion. He was damned well making love to her in his room, in his bed.
Where she belonged.
He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him, grateful that his valet Turner was nowhere in sight. There was only one face Everett wanted to see until the morning’s light, and it was his wife’s. He closed the door behind them and turned to her, pulling her into his arms.
All the emotion he had been ruthlessly suppressing rose up within him like a flood, until he was overflowing with it.
“Thank you,” he told her.
Sybil’s brow furrowed, her befuddlement adorable. “For what?”
God, he loved her. Why had he spent the last few months running from it, from her?
“For forgiving me,” he explained. “For standing by my side. For loving me despite everything that has happened and despite my being the world’s greatest ass.”
The gray mysteries of her eyes plumbed his, searching, searing, finding. “Then I suppose I must also thank you as well.”
His hands swept along the small of her back, wishing there were not layers of fabric and the stiff boning of a corset between him and what he wanted most. “For?”
“For coming to our rescue. For saving Verity and the children and me. For loving me enough that you were willing to fight for me, even when you thought I loved someone else.”
“It took me too bloody long to do that.”
