by Martha Keyes
“Why did you not come for me?” Miles said, sliding his hands under the blanket Thomas was in so that he could take him from Lydia. His crying turned to frustrated grunting at the disturbance.
Lydia tipped him into Miles’s arms and shrugged. She looked exhausted. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He cradled Thomas in one arm and put a hand on Lydia’s cheek. “You were never meant to do this all on your own, Lydia. Let me share in it with you. That is what I am here for.”
She put her hand over his and shut her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your sleep. It was my idea to bring him home with us.”
“And I am very glad for it. He is a light in this house.”
Her hand dropped from his face as she sighed.
“I want to help, Lydia. I want to share in both the burden and the joy.”
She looked at him intently for a moment then nodded and looked down at Thomas. “He is less fussy with you.”
He gave a wry smile. “It is only the novelty. But we should capitalize on the silence. Will you hand me the bottle?”
She gave it to him, and he put it to Thomas’s lips. He fussed, but Miles persisted, and Thomas finally took it.
Miles took two steps backward to sit on the edge of Lydia’s bed, and she followed him there with a sigh of relief. “Thank heaven.”
They both watched the baby as he ate, Lydia leaning in on Miles’s shoulder for a better view. Every now and then, they shared a look of amusement or appreciation as Thomas made the sounds and expressions that were so particular to him. When his eyes finally shut and he stopped drinking, Miles gave the mostly-empty bottle to Lydia.
“Don’t move,” she whispered urgently as she set the bottle down. “You might wake him.”
Miles opened his mouth then shut it. He was to sit here all night, then? Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. “You should at least sleep while he sleeps,” he said.
She stared at Thomas thoughtfully. “I am quite tired. But…” She pursed her lips. “It doesn’t feel right for me to sleep while you sit there like that.”
“What,” he said with a smile, “like I just slept while you rocked him for hours?” He nodded at the bed behind him. “Lie down. Rest your eyes. I will see to Thomas. And wake you if I need you.”
She chewed her lip for a moment then assented, walking around to the other side of the bed. There was a great deal of uncertainty in her movements as she pulled back the bedcovers and climbed in. Of course, it must be strange for her to have him there in this room where he had never before slept, watching her. She lay down, turning on her left side so that she faced away from him. That alone let him know that all of it was slightly uncomfortable for her—she always slept on her right side.
He found himself rocking gently from side to side, even though Thomas was fast asleep for the time being. He had no idea how much time had passed by the time Lydia’s breathing slowed and deepened, but it finally did.
He looked pensively at Thomas, at the rise and fall of his chest and the pout of his lower lip. His back was beginning to ache from sitting upright, and he glanced at the empty space on the bed next to him, beside Lydia. Perhaps he could move slowly and carefully enough to rest his back against the headboard, at least.
He waited for a moment, debating, then shifted his position, eyes flitting rapidly between Thomas and Lydia to verify that neither of them were being disturbed by the adjustment. They both slept soundly.
Slowly but surely, Miles moved from his place at the edge of the bed toward the headboard, finally lifting his feet and setting them on top of the blanket. He sighed with contented relief at the ability to rest his body against something solid. Only one more thing, and he could be perfectly comfortable. Well, not perfectly comfortable, but sufficiently so.
He took two spare pillows, setting one beneath the elbow that cradled Thomas and one in front of his arm to keep Thomas from rolling away in the event that Miles’s hold slackened. Then he shut his eyes and let his head fall back.
This was much better. He might even get some sleep this way. He hoped Lydia wouldn’t mind if she woke to see him thus.
She stirred beside him and, with a puckered brow, turned on her back then to her right side, bringing a smile to Miles’s lips. He allowed himself a moment to admire her face. Heavens, but she was beautiful when she was so relaxed and at peace. Her hair was strung about, never having been plaited, and he resisted the impulse to touch it. How long had it been since he had seen her sleep from so near?
Again, Miles wasn’t aware of when he fell asleep, but when he woke, it was to an awful ache in his neck and the realization that he had slipped down into a near-lying position, chin resting heavily on his chest. He hurriedly glanced at Thomas, who still slept soundly in his arms.
Miles shifted his arm a bit and winced at the pain. He couldn’t stay like this. He eyed the cradle next to the bed. He couldn’t just set Thomas in there and leave. But he could set him in there and lie beside him in case he stirred.
He shifted until he sat on the edge of the bed, clenching his teeth together with anxiety, then set Thomas in the cradle. He let out a large breath when his efforts met with success then shifted to look at Lydia.
She was still in the same position, one hand tucked under her cheek. He wished he could lay beside her. He needn’t even get close enough to touch her. Just to know that she was there.
He sighed and pushed himself slowly from the bed. It creaked slightly, and Lydia stirred, her eyelids fluttering slightly. Miles froze in place, hovering just above the bed.
Lydia’s eyes opened slightly, and her mouth pulled into a smile. Was she smiling at the sight of him? She couldn’t be.
She shut her eyes and reached a lazy hand out toward him, as though waiting for him to take it. His heart thudded against his chest, and in a halting movement, he stretched his arm toward her, letting his fingers touch her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his hand, and she pulled him toward her.
Alarmed but not wishing to wake her by resisting, he lowered himself back onto the bed and allowed himself to be pulled nearer, being as careful not to make too much noise as he slid into the bed beside her. Was she at all conscious of what she was doing? If she wasn’t and she woke to find him next to her….
He swallowed nervously.
“You got him to sleep,” she said with a tired smile.
“Yes,” he said. She was clearly somewhat aware of what she was doing, but he was still afraid that, if he spoke more, he might break whatever spell this was.
“Thank you, my love.”
His heart stuttered, and it was with a crack in his voice that he responded, “You are welcome. My love.” Her words gave him a spurt of courage, and he leaned in and set a soft kiss on her forehead. Only with the slightest quirk of her mouth did she betray that she even noticed, and then her breathing deepened, and she was soon asleep again.
Miles stayed up for some time, turned toward her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. He was afraid that, if he fell asleep, he might wake to discover it was all a dream.
How had he managed to sleep without her this past year? And how would he ever sleep without her again?
Chapter 14
November 1812
Lydia breathed a sigh of relief to see Miles already in bed when she returned from the party she had attended. She didn’t want to talk about her evening, and she hadn’t the energy for the type of interaction Miles was no doubt expecting.
Sarah helped her undress in silence, and Lydia kept her eyes on Miles. He didn’t stir, though, and Lydia dismissed her maid, brushed out her own hair, and plaited it.
Miles had attended a gathering with some of his fellow peers, while Lydia had felt obliged to at least show her face at a party they had been invited to. Unexpectedly, she had seen Sophia Kirkland there—or Lady Venton now, rather. Her glowing face and the barest hint of a rounding below the bodice of the dress she wore had made Lydia sick with envy. It was Lady Venton’s s
econd child. Lydia knew because her mother-in-law had made a point of telling Miles as much while Lydia was in the room.
Lydia sighed and crept quietly into bed, facing away from Miles and wincing with every sound the frame and mattress made. Miles stirred, turning toward her and reaching an arm out, and his hand came to rest on her arm. She waited to see if he would say anything, but it seemed he was still asleep. The warmth of his hand on her arm brought on a stinging in her eyes.
She suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to be held. It had been a difficult night, and she had faced it alone. Against her better judgment, she scooted back toward Miles so that his arm slid forward and around her waist. She grasped at it and tried to quell the tears that came. She didn’t want Miles to see her cry, didn’t want to answer the questions he would have. She was embarrassed of how insecure she had come to feel whenever Lady Venton made an appearance in their lives.
But, even more than that, she didn’t want to rouse him because of what might happen next. The physician they had seen a few months ago had instructed them how long after the start of her courses would be most conducive to conceiving, and today marked the first of those days this month.
It was the last thing she wanted to do.
Miles’s embrace tightened around her, and he moved closer. She tried not to stiffen. It was madness that she had to fight such an impulse. It had not always been so.
“You were out late,” he said sleepily, his warm breath grazing the back of her neck.
“Yes,” she said softly, hoping he might fall back asleep if she didn’t say any more.
But his breath on her neck turned to kisses, and she clenched her eyes shut. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? They both did. They wanted a child. An heir.
So why had it become such a burden to be shown affection—and to return it?
The Present
Thomas was fussing in the room somewhere, but Lydia couldn’t see anything. It was mostly dark, but for a flickering of flames in the fireplace. She frowned and blinked a few times, hoping her vision would clear. But it didn’t. Her view was blocked by….
She froze. It was Miles’s chest she was looking at.
She was sleeping next to him. Not just sleeping next to him, either. They were turned in toward each other, her cheek up against his chest, her hand resting against his stomach, while one of his arms was draped over her and his chin sitting softly on the top of her head. She was small enough that she fit in the space like in a cocoon—warm, cozy, and meant for her.
Her heart hammered as she tried to remember how she had come to be in Miles’s bed. No, it was her bed, not his. He had come in her room and taken Thomas from her. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep with Miles sitting on the other side of the bed, baby in his arms.
She frowned. She had a vague memory of pulling Miles toward her, and her cheeks warmed at the memory.
It was all hazy.
Gently, she moved herself away from Miles, sliding her head out from under his chin and pulling her hand from his body. The relative chill of the air made her skin prickle where it had been in contact with Miles. Part of her didn’t want to move. But Thomas’s fussing was growing louder.
She rolled out of bed and looked at Miles for a moment. He was so peaceful there. She had forgotten what he looked like when he slept, and her mouth curled up in a smile at the way his hair sat against his pillow. It would be a mess when he woke. It had always taken a great deal of water and pomade to tame it.
She hurried over to the cradle, avoiding all the spots on the floor she knew would creak, and picked up Thomas, swaying with him. His fussing quietened, and his eyes closed again. He just needed to be reassured.
She waited a moment before leaning over to set him back in his cradle, but the moment she set him down, he began writhing and fussing, and she was obliged to pick him up again.
Still Miles slept. Two more times, she rocked Thomas to sleep and tried to put him in the cradle, but he would have none of it. Her arms and back began to ache, and she looked at the place she had left in the bed with a twinge of longing. It was looking more enticing now, being held by Miles rather than holding Thomas—and for heaven only knew how long. She might well be rocking him for the rest of the night. They would both get more sleep if she simply took him in the bed with her.
She took Thomas with her to her side of the bed and, gaze on Miles, climbed back in with the baby in her arms. She lay down, letting Thomas rest in the crook of one arm.
Miles stirred, shifting and blinking. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a sleepy half-smile as his eyes settled upon her. Heart fluttering, she returned it.
“He insists upon being held,” she said, looking down at Thomas.
Miles’s blinks were slow, and he reached out a hand to set on the baby’s head. “Let me take him.” Even his words sounded half-asleep.
“No,” she said. “He is content enough here that we can all sleep.”
Miles’s eyes closed, and he moved his head so that it rested against her arm, near to Thomas’s head, and soon enough, sleep had overtaken both boys.
Lydia tried to suppress the emotion that rose in her throat. This was what she had always wanted. What they had always wanted. And while she knew it was but a temporary taste of heaven, tonight she would just accept it for what it was instead of anticipating when it would end.
She let her head rest on her pillow and pulled the coverlet over her.
“I love you,” she said in a bare whisper. “Both of you.” She allowed herself a few more seconds to admire them then shut her eyes and joined them in sleep.
Lydia woke in the light of the morning to the sound of Thomas cooing musically beside her. Sometime during the night, she had pulled her arm from under him, and her hand cradled her cheek. One of her legs was tangled up with Miles’s. She was conscious of mixed feelings of contentment and shyness at waking in her bed together, so much like old times.
She looked at him, and they caught eyes. His mouth was already drawn in a smile. He seemed to have been watching Thomas, supported by his elbow, head resting on the palm of his hand. His nightshirt hung down loosely, giving her an extensive view of his chest.
“He has been singing for a few minutes now,” Miles said. “And attempting to eat his own feet.”
“I cannot blame him,” Lydia said, rising up on her elbow. “I am hungry too.” The shoulder of her chemise fell, slipping halfway down her arm, and she hurried to pull it back up.
Miles’s eyes followed the action then flitted quickly away. A bundle of nerves formed in her stomach. She loved the intimacy of sleeping in her bed with Miles, of being close. But the thought of more intimacy brought on a hint of desire quickly overwhelmed by fear.
She got out of bed and donned her wrapper then reached for Thomas, bringing him into her arms and letting him sit upright. He smiled at her, mouth open wide. He was irresistibly happy in the mornings.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said. “Shall we find you something to eat?”
Jane arrived a few minutes later, and from her place in the doorway, her gaze shot over to Miles, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Lydia felt another flutter of nerves and embarrassment. What sort of things did the servants say about them? And what did they think of Thomas? What would they say to know that Miles had slept in Lydia’s room?
Lydia handed Thomas over to Jane. “Would you feed him? You can bring him to me in the breakfast room in…say, half an hour?”
Jane gave a small curtsy and left.
Lydia took her time shutting the door. She was alone with Miles now, and the prospect thrilled and paralyzed her. But she couldn’t avoid him now. Or what had happened.
“Hopefully he will be happy today,” she said, turning back toward him and making her way over to the bed. She occupied herself with straightening pillows—a silly task on a bed which would be made later by the maids.
“He seems cheerful enough so far,” Miles said. “Perhaps he is not so sick
after all.” His hair stuck up on his right side, just as Lydia had anticipated it would, and she couldn’t stop a smile.
He narrowed his eyes at her, though his mouth turned up at the side. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Only your hair…”
He put a hand up to feel his head and pushed the hair down hurriedly. “Dratted hair. Every single morning.”
“Yes,” she laughed. “I remember. Here.” She came over to him, and he searched her face before lowering his head so she could reach it. She paused a moment then raked both hands through his hair so that it all stood on end. He caught at her wrists, bringing his head back up, and she covered her laugh with a hand.
“That was not what I was expecting you to do,” he said, trying to stifle his own smile. He still held her wrists. “And after I handled your hair with such gentleness last night?” He made a tsking sound then let one of her hands fall, touching a finger to her hair and holding her eyes with a teasing look that promised vengeance. But he only brushed the hair away from her face, letting his fingers comb through the strands all the way to the end, halfway down her arm.
Lydia suddenly felt lightheaded, and her gaze moved to Miles’s lips, remembering how it had felt to kiss him under the kissing bough. There, they had been watched. Here, they were all alone. Would it feel the same? She wanted to explore what she had felt, to know if there was any chance that they could recapture what they had once had.
He leaned in closer, his eyes searching her face then roving to her mouth.
But they had been down this road before. It led nowhere. She knew that. Did he? How could she expect him to resign himself to the fact that he had married a woman who couldn’t do the one thing she was meant to do?
“I should get dressed,” she said, pulling away slightly. “I told Jane to bring Thomas in half an hour.”
Miles blinked then nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course. I should prepare for the day as well.” He hesitated before giving a perfunctory smile and making his way toward the door to his room. When the door shut behind him, Lydia clenched her eyes shut.
