Page 59 of An Unwitting Alliance
She glanced up from her book, but her expression said she did not wholly believe him. “It cannot be harder than me learning to trust you.” She leaned forward asif she were about to share with him a great secret. “Might I recommend effort and a little faith?”
His eyes were drawn to her mouth. He blamed the proximity. Kissing was probably not the effort she was referring to, and faith was not his strong suit. He was entirely out of his element. “Might you give me an example?”
She set down her book and returned to sit beside him. “I’m here, sitting next to you, of my own accord, aren’t I? Is that not proof ofmyprogress?”
He chuckled, not sure how to express his gratitude for her concession despite his weakness. “So you are.” And they were not fighting anymore—contrary to part of an unspoken challenge from the beginning of their engagement.
“I will go one step further with a small confession.” Cassie straightened. “It was I... it was I who put the books containing the romantic selections on your bed. They were meant for me from my mother. I apologize. It was uncouth of me.” When she finished, she visibly cringed and covered her eyes with her hand.
“Well played.” He shook his head.
“There’s more.” She dropped her hand. “I do play the pianoforte.”
Tom grinned and pointed at her. “Finally, you confess!”
She played with the fabric of her skirt. “I couldn’t let you believe I possessed any talents. I wanted you to think the worst of me.”
“And now?”
She hesitated. “Now I hope you do not think the worst of me.”
Tom shook his head. “If I thought the worst of you, would I have sent your favorite flowers to your room?”
“That was you?” The hue of her cheeks warmed, and her eyes softened.
“Guilty.” He wasn’t self-conscious at the confession, as he’d thought he would be—merely pleased to have made her happy.
“Thank you.”
If flowers could prompt such a tender gaze, he would send them by the dozen. The hum of connection between them and the smile on her face were more than thanks enough. He cleared his throat. “I suppose it is my turn to prove myself.”
She nodded slowly. “Whenever you are ready.”
Her patience impressed him, but he saw through the words to a desire in her eyes. While he would never be ready to share the part of him he hid so fiercely, he wanted to show her that he was willing to try. He took a fortifying breath. “I am not an only child, as I led you to believe.”
Cassie’s brow furrowed. “You’re not?”
He never spoke about this to anyone, but telling Cassie felt important. Like the next step on a ladder—the only way to move forward. And moving backward seemed not just ridiculous but impossible. “I had a younger brother, but he passed away when we were children.” He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “His name was Charley. We were close and did everything together, until... until he became sick and I was not allowed to be by his side. I would talk to him through the door, but most often, the only response I heard was his endless coughing. As the years have passed, it’s been easier to avoid speaking of him with others. I even find myself avoiding children. Sometimes they remind me of him, like young Alan. Or sometimes they remind me of what Charley missed.” Tom gave her a rather pathetic smile. “I have never told anyone these things. So you see, I must trust you.”
Cassie’s hand moved to rest on his arm. The simple touch was all the reward he needed for his bravery. “I am sorry for your loss. Thank you for telling me.” She said nothing more, but her eyes spoke volumes. She cared enough not to press him with questions, and if possible, her silence conveyed her sympathy perfectly. In that simple experience of shared confidence, Tom felt seen as never before. Someone knew he was still struggling, and it was all right.
When he returned to his room that night, Mrs. Buttars delivered a note from Joseph. Tom’s valet was nothing but diligent, and thank heavens the man could read and write. The note was short but distinct. Very Joseph-like.
Doctor sent to the workhouse. Will have a report tomorrow. Attempting to discover news of the boy.
Relieved the doctor had made it, Tom would try not to worry until he knew more. He began undressing and found himself pondering about his revelation to Cassie. Should he share with her the details? If their betrothal continued, she would learn more of him soon enough from his mother, or one of the Rebels might say something. Did he really have to tell her himself? Undoubtedly, his fears about having children and a family would come next. Unsure he was ready to be more vulnerable, he rolled over and forced hismind to clear until he fell asleep.
The next morning while Tom was washing his face, Joseph came in to help him dress.
“When did you return?” Tom brought a square of linen to his face and wiped it dry.
“Late last night, sir.” He went straight to the closet to select Tom’s clothes.
“And what news do you have for me?”
“It’s consumption, sir. She picked it up in the workhouse.”
Not consumption. Anything but that. Tom shuddered. “How severe is her case?”
