A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Her smile spread, and she chuckled throatily. “Yes, I do. I danced with you blind, didn’t I?” She’d kissed him again, then sauntered out of the room without the aid of anyone at all.

  He’d watched her go with reluctance and bewilderment, sighing to himself.

  Beth was regaining her independence little by little, and the more she learned and grew, the more comfortable he became. And the guiltier he felt.

  If he could prove to himself that she could navigate outside of the house without incident, he could leave for a few days. He’d have to come up with something to tell her, of course, and he would leave them with all the protection he could muster from the surrounding areas, as he had done in the past when leaving on an especially dangerous assignment. Not to mention that three of the footmen, two maids, all the stable hands, and his steward were all trained operatives, so there was quite a bit of protection at hand.

  His family would always be safe, whether he was here or not.

  But at what cost?

  Leaving again, knowing how Beth depended on him, could be seen as a betrayal or some sign that he had tired of her, and he couldn’t bear that thought. He didn’t want Beth to think anything except that she was cherished and adored beyond all reason. He wouldn’t leave her the way he had done before, to escape his own insecurities and avoid facing the truth. In fact, he had never been more inclined to remain at home and let the rest of the world fade into obscurity.

  Alas, that was not his way or his nature. He had always been one who felt a keen sense of duty, thrived on loyalty and honor, and felt most himself when in the service of some cause greater than himself. The only thing that could force him from Beth’s side was the safety and protection of his men, the kingdom, and his family.

  This was beginning to feel more and more like one of those times.

  But Beth had only just managed the stairs alone, and that had been with someone at the top and bottom of the stairs watching and waiting to help her. How could he possibly manage to claim, even to himself, that he would be leaving for the safety of the kingdom when his wife was not safe in her own home? No matter how capable his housekeeper or his children, she was his responsibility. If she suffered another accident and he was not here to see to her care, or worse…

  No, he thought firmly with a rough shake of his head. There would be nothing worse. Beth was healthy and strong and capable, and surely anything else she suffered would be minor in comparison, if she must suffer at all. Surely, her condition and injuries were enough…

  He couldn’t bear the thought of anything else. She was still vulnerable, as much physically as emotionally. He could not leave until she was more sure of herself. He refused to abandon her, no matter how tormented he was.

  Malcolm sighed heavily and returned to his desk, pulling out the barely-begun response to Fritz’s recent report.

  He had no idea where to begin. He was as lost as the rest and without the benefit of firsthand knowledge of the situation. He was damned if he did go, and damned if he did not. Time was running out, and he was trapped.

  There was no way she could tell him now. Absolutely no possible way.

  She would have to tell him eventually; he would know that she could see when it became clearer that she needed less and less help to get around, and she was not a talented enough actress to pretend blindness forever. The doctor would know fairly soon, if not the next time he came to check on her.

  But after the ball at the Harrises, and the incomparable night that followed, something was different between her and Malcolm. He was incredibly demonstrative, even in front of the children and servants, not that she minded, and she was beginning to understand the depth of the man to whom she was married, and madly in love with. He continually surprised her, and she wondered if she would ever truly know the full measure of him.

  She ought to have told him straightaway when her vision was returning. Perhaps a day or two would have been understandable, given the hesitation to admit that something she had hoped for endlessly may now be coming to pass. Now it was well on its way to fully being restored, with shapes and colors and light growing clearer daily. Details were still quite out of focus, and she had very limited abilities to see in the evening and nighttime. Nothing was perfect yet, and much was far from it.

  But she could see… and Malcolm had no idea.

  Something weighed heavily on his mind, something she had not noticed before due to preoccupation with her lack of sight, but now it was painfully obvious. He thought she could not see and so he did not hide his expressions. Now that she was beginning to see, she observed the somber look when he was silent, the furrowed brow that was becoming a fixture, and the way he tensed whenever the post arrived.

  It had been just over a week since the ball, and he seemed more burdened than ever before. He hid it as best as he could, devoting every moment with her to pretending otherwise, but still, it was there.

  If he had known she could see him, he would never have allowed his emotions to be displayed so openly. She knew that full well.

  Two days ago, she had seen him in his study, though not particularly clearly, and he’d had his head in his hands, elbows propped on the large desk. She had been too far away to determine his exact expression, and even now she had to be very close to see it, but from that distance, she could tell enough. She’d seen him grip at his hair, his loose and disheveled clothing, and heard the sharp, though faint exhale of despair or frustration.

  It had made her ache and given her pause.

  “Malcolm?” she’d asked falteringly.

  At once, he’d looked up, cleared his expression, and come to her. “Beth, I didn’t hear you come down.”

  His tone had given absolutely nothing away, so neither had she. “That is well, isn’t it? If you’d heard me, that would have meant I’d tumbled down the stairs, and that would hardly be fortunate.”

  Malcolm had laughed, surprisingly without sounding forced, and kissed her. “My impertinent wife is too clever for her own good.”

  Beth had run a hand over his cheek, wishing at the time that she could have seen him clearly, wondering if his eyes would have looked hollow or shuttered. “What’s wrong, darling? I know something is.”

  He’d kissed her palm, sighed, and held her close. “Too clever, love. I’m only burdened with business, nothing to trouble yourself about.”

  “Is there trouble?”

  “There’s always trouble,” he’d muttered in a surprisingly dark tone. “But I don’t want to dwell on that.”

  Then, he’d changed the subject and taken her on a long walk while regaling her with stories from his youth, and while his mood had improved by the end, it had returned later in the day after he’d returned to his study.

  She hadn’t asked again, but it worried her. The only time he seemed himself was when he was either focused on her or playing with the children, and even then, the burdens seemed to weigh on him if he were not distracted.

  Beth could not complain and would not. She had her husband’s attention and affection, and both of those in excess, but not his confidence. She did not care if his troubles did not concern her, or if they were not something she would particularly understand. She wanted to share his cares and his sorrows, to help him find a way through them, and to be a source he could turn to for advice or to unburden his soul if nothing else.

  But Malcolm suffered in silence, and obviously was not inclined to let Beth know what any of it was about.

  She wanted to be his wife in truth, not just in name and in his bed, though she dearly loved both. Was it too much to wish for? She had already gained much more than she had anticipated in this marriage, and to ask for more than what she had seemed somehow wrong. A marriage of convenience had turned to one of friendship, and then to one of affection, and now enjoyed the privilege of something more, something less easily defined. She couldn’t call it a marriage of love, though there was more than enough on her side, and Malcolm…

  Malcolm…


  At times, she would swear that he loved her as she did him. She thought she could feel it in his touch or in his kiss, in the way he held her at night. Yet other times, he seemed so far away that she wondered if he wished for the freedom he once had. Not that he would ever abandon her or treat her with any less affection and honor than he had done. He was a good man. One could not draw conclusions with such men.

  He would always be the sort of man he was now, a devoted husband and father, a man who honored commitments and would not shirk duty, and one who valued loyalty and respect above all else.

  With all of his current burdens, and considering how often he seemed to find relief in his wife and children, Malcolm would not take kindly to the revelation that his wife had kept something from him, especially something as significant as regaining her eyesight.

  She feared his response more than she had feared anything in her life. She would tell him, but she needed the perfect moment to do so. Perhaps something with a hint of hesitation, and if she made it sound as though she had only just started regaining it… She had never had any talent for lying, and she doubted Malcolm, with all his keen skills in observation, would be any more fooled by her attempts than her parents had been.

  She would have to have him sufficiently distracted to not make much of her sudden announcement, or the time to read into her lies.

  Was Malcolm ever completely distracted, or even just enough for that? Beth doubted that very much. But she had to do something, and soon. Anything less could be perceived as a betrayal of sorts, and there was no telling how her husband might react when she was discovered.

  “What in the world are you doing in this room?”

  Beth turned with a quick jerk of surprise, her fingers skidding on the pianoforte which she had been aimlessly playing. “Malcolm!”

  He strode into the room, looking almost relaxed for a change, his jacket off and his cravat loosened. “And why do you sound as if you are in trouble? I’m hardly going to scold you for venturing in here, I only wonder at it.”

  She swallowed and looked away, forcing a smile. “I did tell you once that I played.”

  “I recall that,” he said, coming over to stand beside her, setting a hand at her back. “I also recall that you said you never played for yourself, only at the behest of others.”

  Beth shrugged, running her fingers over the keys again. “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind and wished to explore the idea.”

  “An intriguing notion, considering…”

  Her jaw tightened. “Why should I limit myself simply because of one small obstacle?”

  “Steady on, love, that was not a criticism.” He kissed her hair quickly and rubbed her shoulders a little. “On the contrary, I applaud your industry and efforts. What a bold and determined woman you are.”

  A flush of guilt lit her cheeks at his words, which he would undoubtedly mistake for modesty. “I can only play what little I remember,” she admitted, which was true, as she could not make out the notes on the page yet, “and not very well…”

  “I refuse to let you criticize yourself when taking on such an impressive task,” he scolded, gripping her shoulders a little. “You’ll find a way, Beth. You always do.”

  Oh, it was intolerable for him to speak so warmly of her when she had something so important weighing on her! The burden of her confession pressed down against her chest and made breathing difficult.

  Thankfully, Malcolm didn’t notice any of that as he gently turned her about on the stool. “Come outside with me, love. The children wish to play while the day is fine, and I don’t want to leave you cooped up in here. Come and enjoy the sunshine and let me marvel at what it does for your already perfect complexion.”

  He stroked one cheek with the utmost gentleness, and Beth felt at once as though she had wings, and yet somehow further mired down. Stretched to her extremes, she was unable to move for the pressure building within her.

  “Nothing about me is perfect,” she whispered with more harshness than she intended, praying he would not notice.

  She glimpsed a crooked smile in his face. “Surely we’ve argued on that subject more than enough. We don’t need to do so again, do we?”

  Now she blushed in earnest and rose to her feet, sliding her arms around Malcolm’s waist and burying her face against him. His arms tightened around her, and he said nothing, no doubt accustomed to Beth’s sudden bursts of affection. He’d never complained about them before, and he did not now.

  She just needed to hold him while her heart pounded restlessly, afraid that this precious time together would end before long, and she would be powerless to stop it. She could not will her husband to remain with her, could not force his reaction to be one she wished for, and it would be her fault if all went awry.

  He would be thrilled that her sight was returning, yet he would be livid that she had hidden it. Which of the two sentiments would win the day?

  Beth held him closer still, sighing weakly against him.

  “What’s this, love?” Malcolm murmured fondly, running a hand over her hair. “Are you well?”

  She nodded and forced herself to step back a little, ignoring the urge to look up at him with all the love in the world. He would see her eyes, and she couldn’t risk the discovery. “Sometimes, I just need to be held,” she admitted, ducking her chin a little.

  Malcolm took her chin in hand, raising it gently and kissing her with the utmost softness. “You may always rely upon me to accommodate you there, Lady Montgomery. No matter the occasion or my occupation at the moment, there will always be time for me to hold you.”

  Beth cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, fearing words would betray her.

  “Come on, love,” Malcolm said as he broke away. “The children will be anxious, and you are too able a distraction for me.” He took her hand and pulled her along behind him as they left the music room and moved to the back of the house.

  Through the windows, Beth could see the small, shapeless forms of the children on the lawn. The day would be bright, almost blinding in the direct light of the sun compared to the relative darkness of the house. Only days ago, she might not have reacted at all to the change, being almost entirely unaware of it.

  But now…

  She closed her eyes as Malcolm led her, knowing it was the only way that she could avoid discovery.

  “I’ve arranged a chair for you,” Malcolm was saying, his hand warm in hers. “It is in the shade of the house, so you won’t become overheated.”

  “Put it in the sun,” Beth pleaded, forcing her eyes open a little. “The day is not so warm, and I want to feel the sun against my skin.”

  Truth be told, she only wanted the warmth of the sunshine to soothe the cold ache seeping into her bones. She wanted to be in the sun, now that she could see well enough to appreciate it, and everything was clearer to her under its influence.

  “As you like.” He adjusted the chair accordingly, then helped her to it.

  “Papa!” Jane shouted, her hands fisted on her hips. “Bitsy is fine now, come and play with us!”

  “Hurry, Papa!” Samuel echoed, slapping away Archer’s hand as he tried to adjust his brother’s collar.

  Malcolm exhaled, shaking his head. “To be in such demand…”

  Beth chuckled easily, not having to force the effort. “They do adore you.” As do I, her heart added in a pained chorus.

  As if he could hear the silent cry, Malcolm smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No matter what you may hear,” he whispered, “I will be winning whatever it is I am induced to play.”

  She smiled back at him with a nod. “I have no doubt of it.”

  “Very accommodating, wife.”

  “I do try.”

  Malcolm strode away towards the children, surprising them all with a monstrous roar and scooping up Greer at once. The little girl squealed and giggled, flailing in his hold as Malcolm chased the others with her in his grasp. It was a merry game of chasing until the other childre
n decided to form up against him and forced him to the ground to rescue their sister. Once she was freed, they all chased their father in turn.

  The tides frequently turned in the game, and the energy only rose as it went on. At one point, Malcolm was a dragon, and the children were villagers bent on his destruction. Then the girls were princesses in a tower, and their father was the troll that had captured them while the boys attempted a rescue. Malcolm played as Beth had never seen him play before, with wild laughter and grand gestures, easy manners and completely lost in every game.

  There was no proud earl here, and no reserve to be found. This was a devoted father stripped of pride and formality for the sake of his children. They would always come before anything else in his life, and he was not ashamed to have that known. How many men in the world, let alone one of rank and standing, would allow themselves to be so carefree with their children? How many of them romped and played more than just for show? How many children looked up at their fathers with the adoring looks these children bestowed upon Malcolm as he tossed them into the air or tickled them into hysterics?

  It was a rare man that Beth Owens had secured for herself, and there was no course but to love him hopelessly and fiercely, with all that she was and more. She ought to tell him that. No matter if he could return the sentiment, he deserved to know that she loved him. Such a secret was too much to bear, and she was astonished to have kept it this long. But she feared telling him, knowing there would be no turning back once she admitted something so great.

  She’d never thought of herself as being particularly afraid of anything, yet confessing her love was more terrifying than anything else. Except, perhaps, confessing the return of her sight.

  And perhaps one other secret…

  Greer suddenly ran at her father and Malcolm swept her up, tossing her into the air yet again, her red-gold curls dancing in the bright sunlight with a burst of delighted giggles to accompany them. Malcolm twisted her this way and that, tickling her sides and making her squirm precariously in his hold. He chuckled and drew her to his chest, kissing her soundly, and then setting her down to the ground, letting her dash off with her siblings.