“No. You can’t.”
“No one can. But aren’t there things that make you happy, darling? Aren’t there reasons to stay with me? Do you really think things would be better for you somewhere else?”
She raised her head and looked at him. “B-but I hurt you. I’m b-b-bad for you.”
“You are the exact opposite. You’re the best, most marvelous thing that has ever happened to me. I was living a meaningless life before you, one entirely dedicated to pursuing my own comfort. Now I get up every day wanting to do something to make my farmers’ lives better. To make our life together better. You’ve given me a purpose.”
“You don’t rethent me?”
“You inspire me. You make me want to put money in the bank. So we can have babies.”
She laid her head back. He inched closer to her and rested his head on one hand and put the other arm around her waist, not to restrain her but just to touch her, his wife.
“Do you want that, darling? To have children with me?
She bit her lip before saying, “Our baby might lithp.”
“Yes. The baby might. And I’ll love that baby for the lisp, not despite it. And, don’t forget, the baby might be short.”
“You’re not thort.”
“As long as I’m with you, Caro, I don’t mind how tall I am.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “We might have enough money for a baby in a year.”
“We might?”
“I think tho.”
“How about in nine months?”
“Maybe.”
“Shall we go home and make one, darling?”
“Yeth.”
He kissed his wife and helped her up and led her home.
He was not so foolish as to think his Caro would wholly forgive herself after thirteen years just because her husband had told her that her mother’s death was not her fault. It would take time and care. But he had both things. An abundance of both things. And he knew no better way to spend his time and care than on his wife.
He would never give her the emeralds he had once dreamed of giving her. He could not imagine she would ever permit that. But if she would let him give his time and his care, he wouldn’t mind not giving her the jewels.
He had planned an evening in bed with his wife, tending her cut and maybe the rest of her body and starting the baby they both wanted, making sure she knew how much he loved her. However, his plan was interrupted by the magistrate standing in the front hall, wanting information about what Albion had done, how he had come to be wounded.
Jones suddenly appeared at Caro’s elbow. “I’ll take my lady upstairs, my lord.”
“Yes,” he said, not able to keep the concern out of his voice and off his face.
“Don’t worry, Phineath. I’ll b-b-be good,” his wife said. And then her lips definitely curved upwards. “I’ll be good.”
Thirty-Six
Caroline woke up just before dawn, in her husband’s bed.
Last night, Jones had bandaged her neck and helped her bathe and put her in a nightdress. Caroline then had climbed into the bed in her own bedchamber and eaten dinner off a tray. She and Phineas had made love in this bed once, that one time after their bath together, but she had never slept here before. Suddenly, she didn’t want to sleep alone in a bed she didn’t know. She went into her husband’s bedchamber, Lavinia trailing behind her, and fell asleep in his bed.
She had turned to Phineas when he had slipped in next to her last night. He had taken her in his arms and murmured, “Everything’s all right, darling, the doctor says he’s going to live,” and kissed her. Very quickly, however, his eyes had closed. She had held still and let him fall asleep.
