His breathing quickened with her closeness. She was part of his fear.
“But I did wonder if tonight helped heal a part of your fears.” Her eyes lit with understanding. “Or made it worse?”
The moonlight spilled through the window, creating a shaft of light that encompassed their feet across the floor. His dream from the other night flashed back into his mind. The sheer panic of losing his brother. The ever-lurking fear that if Leonard ever married and had children of his own, they might have the same fate. And it was all out of his control.
But did he want to let Honora into that part of his life? Was he ready for that? He supposed she needed to know if they were tomove forward. “I think at first it made it worse. But then it was better.”
Honora reached forward, and Leonard’s eyes swung down to their now clasped hands.
“I don’t think I will ever be rid of it though. This fear.” He lifted his eyes and met Honora’s gaze in the dark. “It is me that is the coward. Not Samuel.”
Her brow scrunched as her lips turned down. “A coward? No.”
“Do not lie,” he mumbled. “I already know it.”
“I think it’s a natural fear to have. And it further explains why you never wished to marry.”
He huffed out a humorless laugh. “You have me all figured out, don’t you?”
Putting a finger to the center of her chin, she shook her head. “No. Not quite. But I’m getting closer. And if you ever wish to speak of it further . . .” Honora took another step closer.
He drew in a breath, then gave a single nod. “Thank you. Maybe another time. Right now, I think we should both get to bed.”
Honora closed the final few steps between them and slipped one hand on his shoulder until it gently wove behind his neck. She rose up on her toes, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He pressed a hand to her back, wanting to hold her there for just a moment longer. The moment was short, and yet it impacted him in a way their other kiss hadn’t. Because that was the special thing about Honora. She could see his cracks, and she knew when to repair them and when to leave them be. And tonight, she wasn’t going to push him. And he appreciated her all the more for it.
Leonard slept in longer than usual the next morning, and he was quite sure Samuel would sleep until noon.
He dressed for the day, then made his way downstairs to break his fast. When he arrived in the dining room, his parents both sat at the table—and their eyes told him all he needed to know.
There was about to be adiscussion.
“Good morning,” Leonard said, helping himself to a plate from the sideboard. He heaped food onto it, then took a chair across from his mother.
“Good morning?” she said, her voice filled with disbelief. “It might be good for you, but it is less so for your father and I.”
Wonderful. They knew about Samuel.
“I’m sorry,” Leonard began, watching as a maid filled his cup with steaming tea. He took a sip, and when he placed it on the table, he changed his mind. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry.”
His father shook out his paper, folding it up and slapping it down onto the table. “Well, you should be. I cannot believe you kept this from us.”
“Samuel is a grown man. You cannot keep him locked up forever. I have half a mind that his loss of weight and abilities are more due to his sedentary state than his actual health.” He shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth before he could say anything more.
Instead of the litany of accusations from his parents, he was instead met with silence and blank stares.
“What about Samuel?” his father finally asked.
Leonard’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Is Samuel all right?” Already rising to her feet, his mother hovered above her chair.
He felt his eyes roll. “He is fine.”
This was apparently enough to settle her, and she retook her seat.
“Then why are you speaking of Samuel?” his father pressed. “I am speaking about Mr. Hind and Miss Gillingham.”
“Hind?” Leonard put his hands against the table. “What about him? How do you even know about him?”
