“Impossible until I meet your father.”
Alyssia sighed. That would be a slight inconvenience. Not Giles. She suspected her father might be elated. But the fact that she had sought out Mrs. Dove-Lyon and not him. She missed her family, but she was excited for the new addition to it. Perhaps that was what reclamation truly was: finding space for new warmth beside the old.
Giles had filled that space seamlessly.
“My father would never demand such a thing from you.”
“Still, I’d feel much better once I’ve had a talk with him.”
Alyssia sighed. So would she. “Perhaps it’s my turn to go into hiding.”
Bishop chuckled. Howdamn adorable was his wife? “No, you’re not allowed.”
She scoffed. “Don’t start exerting dominance now that you’ve lured me into your bed. You’ll be in danger of being locked out.”
“I have trust in my charm.” He held her snugly against him as if the world might try to pry her away.
That word again.Danger.
Damn it.
Bishop would rather not be reminded of that. He had to put some things into place after tomorrow. He’d hire protection for Alyssia while he sorted out the aftermath of tomorrow. But right now, nothing could pry him away from his wife.
“You are much braver than me, Alyssia.” He rested his head against hers. “When you were pushed into a corner with no way out, you found one and took action. Me? I remained hidden for far too long.”
“You are far too severe upon yourself, Giles. I didn’t have the option of retreating without harming my family. That’s the difference. Believe me, I would have if I could. You, like I, did what you had to do. If I faulted you before, I certainly do not now.”
Bittersweetness to his ears.
He wished he could unwind time and find her again sooner.
“You are perfect, Liss.”
“Notsoperfect.”
“Let’s agree to disagree,” Bishop murmured. “Can I transfer my belongings to your bedchamber now?”
She snorted. “Why would you do that? I shall require the entirety of the wardrobe, if you please.”
“Not even a small space?” Bishop pressed. “I’m quite attached to the image of my breeches next to your drawers.”
“Giles!”
He chuckled. He’d find a way to make this small dream come true.
A sudden, muffled thump shuddered through the floorboards, sending tiny ripples across the bathwater.
Both of them stilled.
“What was that?” Alyssia murmured, glancing back at him.
Bishop wasn’t sure. These old townhouses carried every noise, and whatever that had been, had come from the room below them. A drawing room, if he was not mistaken.
“A servant, perhaps?” she wondered.
“Not at this hour,” Bishop murmured, and doubt tightened the back of his neck. Servants did not drop things often. And hadn’t it been loud enough for them to feel it up here? Also, at this time of night, past midnight, servants would be in their quarters.
He pricked his ears, listening for any other sound.
