Page 63 of The Baron Takes a Wife

David half sat up, leaning back against the headboard. “I can’t quite say.” He shrugged. “But it has been gnawing at me since the first night we went out in Society. I had not realized what I had invited you into. I wonder if I had, well, taken you out of the frying pan and into another fire. It means—”

“Yes, I have heard that one. Sophie says it a great deal when Parliament passes a new law she disagrees with.” She was suddenly afraid he was asking something else. “Do you…regret marrying me? I know now how cruel the ton can be. I do not wish to bring shame to your family or business.” She waited with bated breath, afraid the answer was yes.

“What?” He froze as if horrified by her question. “Absolutely not. It was the best decision I’ve made in this life. I suppose I’m just concerned you might regret your decision. I know the ton. I grew up around Society. I didn’t realize in the moment that you would have to learn entirely new rules, that some would never accept you. I thought I was doing a noble thing, doing something that would protect you, but I hadn’t thought it all the way through, what it would mean for you. And perhaps, selfishly, I wanted a reason to keep you in my life.” As she began to respond, he held up a hand.

“But I am most afraid that you might have found your family. That you would have been more likely to have located them after the war had you stayed.”

Elena turned her body so that she looked down at him more fully. She could not think how they had gotten here. She had never thought about the choice to marry him since she had made the decision. Once he had suggested it and convinced her, it seemed the only course of action. She had not considered what would have happened if he had not asked or if she had said no.

“My lord,” she began, holding up her hand as he started to correct her. “Husband.” He looked up, his green gaze catching hers. “I have never regretted my choice, truly. I am very glad I married you. Very grateful.”

“But I don’t want you to be grateful, Elena. I’m the lucky one.”

“Then let us say that we are both lucky.” She took his hand, which still bore some of the scars of war.

“You don’t speak of it very often.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“The war.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I cannot tell if always looking forward is a virtue or a sin.”

“Possibly neither.” She gave him a small smile.

“Mayhap, you are correct.” He sighed. “I think about it, but not all the time. Most of the time, I can keep that door shut. I’m afraid that if I always keep it open, I’ll remember all those who did not survive. I’ll think about the men I killed and their families living without them. I’m afraid if I look too deeply, I’ll never come back.”

She understood what he was saying, even though she hadn’t fought in a war. There were some days and moments it became impossible to look too deeply into. The what-ifs could drive a person in circles in their mind.

“Would you like to go back someday? To see their final resting place, to say goodbye to your fellow soldiers?” She stroked his knuckles. She hadn’t realized it before, but she had come to love his hands, not just for the wicked things they did to her body but for their strength and roughness. She loved the feel and texture of them. They were rough for gentleman’s hands, but she supposed that war had likely changed his body for the rest of his life. And perhaps his soul a bit too.

“I suppose I might.” They sat again in silence as she stroked his hands, the sounds of the city beginning to wake up around them.

“Would you like to go back to look for them? Your family?” he asked softly.

“We could do that? You would bring me?”

“Of course I would bring you. Who else knows their way around or speaks the language?”

Elena shifted slightly and studied him. He was smiling, but a tinge of sadness shaded his eyes as if there was deep pain behind his words that he did not want her to see. At that moment, she truly did believe that he loved her. Not in the selfish, possessive way that Anatole had but in a steady, giving way, where he would always put her happiness above his own. She felt like a giant weight had landed on her chest, shattering most of the ice around her heart.

“You would do that for me?” was all she was able to say.

“Anything.” He gave her a small, rueful smile. “Let me see what the Foreign Office says, and we can decide. I’m only sorry we didn’t go look sooner, but…”

“No, you had to take care of yourself. I understand why you needed to do that.” She turned away again, feeling unsteady at how this realization affected her. “You do not speak of that very often either.”

“I don’t speak of the clinic because it was monotonous.” He lay back, and some of the rigidity seemed to leave as his voice took on a more casual tone. “Again, if I thought too much about my situation, I might have gone mad. But I also came to accept myself over time, I suppose. I know my body will never be the same, but I am…at peace with that. Sometimes, I think I would have been all right if I had never recovered my ability to walk. For so long, I thought I couldn’t be a man if I couldn’t use my body below the waist, but I could have used a chair. I knew several men in Bern who did. I have means, and I have you and Sophie and Irene. I’m not saying it would have been easy, but I lost years with the three of you I could have had back if I had accepted myself as I was. The experience helped me see that the world is designed for people who can walk. I had to endure excruciating exercises and pain just to do it again. And what if I had been a working man? I wouldn’t have had that luxury of money and time.” He paused and let out a sigh. “My legs will have weakness, likely for the rest of my life, and, again, I am at peace with that. It doesn’t make me any less. It doesn’t mean I’m not a man. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I think it does. I pity any man who mistakes your strength for weakness, for I think you are the very best man I know.” As she said the words, she knew them for truth. The revelation rocked her, and she felt further shaken by how long it had taken her to realize this. She wanted to tell him more, to communicate to him how important what they shared was to her.

“I would have supported you if you had lived in a chair. I would still have wanted to be your…” She trailed off as her cheeks heated.

“My lover?” He glanced over at her with both heat and laughter in his eyes.

She nodded shyly. “I know it is not the same, but I used to be much heavier. Before the war, before I knew hunger. It was fashionable in the village where I grew up. But I wonder if you would have desired to be my lover quite as much.” The word lover almost stuck in her throat again, but she felt it needed to be said.

He turned his head to regard her, and she felt his gaze run along her entire body. Even though she wore a nightgown, she felt bare, as if he could see through the plain cotton.