BookToReadChapter 109 Victoria tried to slip out of bed, but every tshe moved, McNeil moaned in pain, his brow furrowing. She had no choice but to stay put.
With a resigned sigh, she lay back down beside him, fully dressed. The night was chilly, yet McNeil's body radiated heat.
After a long, exhausting day and hours spent nursing McNeil, Victoria drifted off without realizing it.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming the room. Victoria felt soft, rhythmic breaths against her cheek. She startled awake, only to find herself wrapped tightly in McNeil's arms.
Her heart sank a little. Gently, she pressed a hand to his forehead.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtThe fever had broken.
As she tried to pull her hand away, McNeil caught it, mumbling, "Violet..." The rest was lost in a sleepy slur. Of course. Last night, she must have lost her mind.
Victoria carefully disentangled herself, got out of bed, and headed downstairs. She'd meant to just leave, but instead, she found herself in the kitchen, making a pot of warm porridge for McNeil.
Once everything was done, she left without a backward glance.
The marriage was over. With Gwyneth in the picture, they would always be connected, but that was all. She didn't want her daughter to grow up without a father.
Victoria hadn't been gone long when the doorbell rang.
Xenia assumed Victoria had returned, but when she answered, it was Gwyneth bouncing in, followed closely by a striking woman. Early spring sunlight caught the woman's pale blue dress and cream-colored coat, her poise unmistakable.
Xenia paused-then recognized her instantly.
"Is McNeil home?" Violet had come, bringing Gwyneth along. She'd spent the whole night trying to reach McNeil, and Gwyneth had called him too-no answer.
Violet was done waiting. If Victoria was there, she could always claim she was just dropping Gwyneth off. Wordlessly, Xenia opened the door, eyes flicking over Violet with a sigh. Compared to Mrs. McNeil, this woman had a certain confidence and energy- sharper, more dynamic. Victoria was gentle and quiet, years spent at hsoftening her edges. Violet, Xenia thought, had qualities that could easily capture Mr. McNeil's attention. Gwyneth dashed upstairs to find her father. Violet followed briskly, but Xenia caught up with her and spoke in a low voice.
"Mr. McNeil was ill yesterday. The doctor saw him this morning. He's still asleep." Violet's brow creased, and she quickened her pace.
"Hush, Gwyn, go play for a bit," Violet murmured as she entered the bedroom.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmMcNeil lay pale on the bed, a bandage wrapped around his back, a hint of red seeping through. Violet's eyes widened. He was hurt.
"McNeil-" she called softly.
A few moments later, McNeil finally stirred, his eyes opening to a blur of shapes. "Victoria," he murmured automatically.
All night, feverish and half-awake, he'd thought Victoria was by wasthere-feeding him medicine, watching over him. They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. Violet heard him. Her expression froze for a heartbeat, but she was too clever to press further.
McNeil blinked, staring at Violet until he finally realized it wasn't Victoria.
He masked his confusion. "It was you who looked afterlast night?"
Violet glanced at the washbasin and towels still in the room, and replied without hesitation) delirious-barees. You were remember a thing, do you?" Just then, Xenia arrived with the porridge Victoria had made. She overheard Violet's words and frowned instinctively.
Violet met Xenia's gaze with a cold warning, her eyes sharp as daggers. Xenia shivered and busied herself tidying the room in silence, then quietly slipped back downstairs.
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