“I’m sure she’ll be perfect. It’s a wonderful idea, Edward, thank you.” Lily flung her arms around him and kissed him, moved by his thoughtfulness and sensitivity. It was the perfect solution to her problem, and it was just like Edward to present it in such a matter-of-fact way.
“Now, let’s have a look at this house.” He glanced around. “It looks—”
Lily put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say anything. Not until you’ve seen it all.”
His mouth quirked with amusement, but he kept it shut. She led him through room after room, explaining all the changes she’d made. “Now that gas has been fitted throughout, you’ll find it much lighter and more pleasant at night than when you were a child. Aren’t the light fittings elegant? No, don’t say anything.”
She showed him the reception rooms and the library, the only room that was almost entirely unchanged. “I had all the books taken down and dusted, the shelves polished, the furniture repaired where necessary and the walls painted. Nothing else. Except for the gas lighting.” She eyed him anxiously. Galbraith men loved their libraries.
He made a slow tour of the library, then turned to her with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
They went upstairs. “This is my bedroom.” She threw open the door and stepped back. Edward admired the new cream silk wallpaper, the new curtains and the elegant new furniture—not nearly as heavy and oppressive as what had been there before. “I’ve replaced most of the furniture in the house,” she admitted.
“I noticed all that ghastly Egyptian stuff has gone. It frightened me to death as a child. This is all very nice.” He strolled toward the connecting door. “I suppose this is my room.”
“Mmm.”
He opened the door. Lily waited with bated breath as he examined every item in the room: the wardrobe, the tall chest of drawers, the cheval glass, the comfortable leather armchair, the elegant small table where he could write his endless letters . . .
He didn’t say a thing, just nodded thoughtfully and with apparent approval.
She gave a surreptitious sigh of relief. He hadn’t noticed. “And now I want to show you the upstairs.” She took his arm and tugged him toward the door.
He didn’t move. “There’s something missing.”
“Really?” she exclaimed in surprise. Hoping she wasn’t overdoing it.
“Yes, really. A small matter of a missing bed.”
Lily widened her eyes. “Good heavens, you’re right. I didn’t notice. The men must have forgotten. Or maybe it wasn’t finished. Yes, that will be it. Your bed isn’t yet finished.”
He looked down at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I suppose until it arrives, I’ll have to share your bed.”
“Oh, dear.” She tried to look concerned. “You won’t mind, will you?”
He laughed. “You, Madam Wife, are a minx. I expect that missing bed of mine will turn up eventually.”
She gave an innocent shrug. “In a year or two, at least.” He kissed her and when she had breath to continue, she added, “Possibly more.”
She showed him the rest of the house, but when they came to the attic stairs, he paused. “I remember this place.” He glanced at her. “I was never very happy here.
“I’ve changed it quite a bit.” She took his hand and led him up the stairs.
He took two steps in and stopped. The gray walls were now a soft yellow. The low line of cupboards was painted blue, and the molded edging painted bright red. The bookshelves were new. The floor had been varnished and waxed, so the room smelled of beeswax instead of dust, and several large, colorful fluffy rugs were scattered over it. In the corner was a French enamel stove.
He examined it curiously.
“Miss Chance, my dressmaker, has this kind of stove in her shop. They keep her rooms lovely and warm, and are clean and safe to use.”
“This room was always so cold. And so bare and dull—and grim. Now”—he glanced around with a smile—“I could almost envy the children who will play here—our children, God willing.” He walked to the angled window in the roof and pushed it open. He pulled a stool forward. “Stand on this. I want to show you my childhood kingdom.”
With one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, he pointed out the silhouettes and rooftop lands he’d imagined, explaining what they’d been to a solitary small boy, and where his imaginary friends and enemies—and several monsters—had lived. She leaned against him, aching for the lonely little boy he’d been.
He glanced at her and caught her blinking back tears. He pulled her against him. “Don’t weep for the past, my love. Like the shabby, outworn furnishings of this place, it’s gone to dust. What you’ve done to this room”—he made a sweeping gesture—“this whole house, is truly wonderful, but it’s nothing compared with how you’ve transformed my life.”
He linked both arms around her waist and looked down at her. “You’ve given me back my home—and I’m not talking about any building, but home in every sense of the word. You restored me to my place and my people, opened up my heart again and showed me the road to a future I didn’t dream was possible.” His deep voice was ragged with emotion. His grip on her tightened.
“For the past decade and more, I’ve lived a kind of half-life. It was an existence, not a life, with no meaning and no purpose except not to feel, not to hope, and not to love.” His expression was solemn, but his eyes blazed with a light that took her breath away. “You are my hope and my home. You’re my future and my endless, eternal love. With all my heart, I thank you.”
“Oh, Edward.” Lily gave a happy sigh, wound her arms around his neck
