She dropped her burden on a table and clenched her hands together to control their trembling. She pulled in a calming breath. She tried so hard to yell at him again for what he’d put them through, all of them, especially those little girls, especially really, her, even though she knew it wasn’t his fault. And then, much to not only her surprise but everyone else’s in the room, she did something for only the second time in her entire life. She burst into tears.
19
And Grey thought he couldn’t feel worse. He’d made her cry. And he couldn’t even really hold her to him to soothe her. Couldn’t bury his face in her beautiful hair or wrap his arms around her waist and reassure her that he was not only still alive, but that he loved her, which he had inconveniently realized while lying in a hospital bed in a foreign country. Lying in bed while, evidently, the royal family showed up to wave him off this mortal coil.
And now instead of being able to carry her off to bed—or at least the settee—he was doing all he could to just stand up himself. Oh Lord, he hurt. But the pain in her eyes was hurting him worse. She stood there in the middle of the room alone sobbing, her hands over her face as if she were ashamed of her tears.
Desperate, he looked over at her brother and cousins. “Do something!”
But all three of them stood there staring at her as if her hair was on fire.
“Packham!” he snapped. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman cry?”
Michael kept staring. “Not her,” he finally said.
Both cousins shook their heads. Rafe even pointed. “Ever.”
Grey swore. Then he did the only thing he could think to do. He limped up to Georgie and wrapped his good arm around her. And bless her, she nestled into his sore shoulder like a child.
“I’m sorry,” he said. What for, he wasn’t sure. For surviving? For taking so long to get back to her? For marrying her in the first place?
No. Not that. Never that. It sounded so trite, but one of the few things that had kept him alive was the idea of getting back to her. And now that he caught her fresh flower scent, he knew he was rewarded.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said gently to the top of her head, “But you’ll have to share the bed again.”
She just nodded. He was beginning to think that he needed to sit down when suddenly she pulled back and straightened.
“Wellington!” she snapped, glaring at them all like a hanging judge. “He knew, didn’t he? That was why he avoided talking to me.”
Grey nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Why, though? Why not tell me?” She must have seen him waver, because even with the tears still wet on her cheeks, shetskedat him like an annoyed governess. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, sit down.”
He looked over at the settee and wondered if he could make it that far. She saw that, too.
“Michael!” was all she snapped, and with a rueful grin her brother stepped in and helped Grey to the settee, where he eased down onto the cushions with no more than a small groan. Georgie strode over to get an ottoman from the corner and very gently lifted his left leg onto it.
Even though it pulled his stitches, Grey smiled up at her. Sheharrumphed.She actually harrumphed.
“Why?” she asked again. “I need to be filled in before the girls hear us and come charging in here.”
“Simple answer?” Grey answered. “Because we weren’t at all sure I would be coming home. I didn’t want to raise your hopes just to have them dashed again. Well…” He tried another smile out on her to not much success. “At least the girls.” Raising his arm, he shrugged. “As you can see, though, I seem to be very hard to kill.”
Giving the bell rope a good tug, she settled down alongside him and waved the Archangels onto other furniture.
“These miscreants truly didn’t know?”
It was Michael’s turn to smile. It was Grey who shook his head. He was just about to continue his explanation when they were interrupted by a loud gasp from the doorway. Chalmers had obviously responded to her summons.
Grey tried to smile for him as well. Considering what Chalmers looked like, he thought the old man might need smelling salts.
Swiping at her eyes with her sleeves, Georgie gave Chalmers her own smile. “No, Chalmers, you are not dreaming. Lord Coleford truly is home. Evidently, we were the last to know that he survived.”
“Thank heavens no one brings gifts to a funeral,” her unflappable butler said. “It’d be a treat getting ’em all back.”
Grey couldn’t help it. He laughed. Then he grabbed the side with his cracked ribs. “I knew I could count on you to act sensibly, Chalmers.”
Georgie gave her eyes another swipe and turned to the butler. “First, Chalmers, make certain the girls remain up in the nursery until I can call for them.” She gave a little sob that might have been a laugh. “Again. Then, I believe that for at least a month or so, we will need to turn one of the other salons into a sick room.His Lordship is in no condition to manage those stairs. And no random visitors. Can you see that done?”
