Page 14 of The Baron Takes a Wife

“She looks so grown up,” Elena fought the embarrassing urge to cry. Irene was not her sister. Why was she acting like a watering pot?

“She looks like our mother,” David said quietly.

Elena noticed him grip his cane tighter and felt a great wave of compassion for her husband, who had lost both of his parents so young. She smiled up at him, their formality gone. “She must have been very lovely.”

He nodded, then seemed to compose himself for Irene, holding out his arm for his sister.

“I shall be the envy of the ton tonight, with the two most beautiful ladies on each arm.”

Irene playfully smacked him with her reticule. “Forth unto battle, comrades.”

Forth into battle indeed, thought Elena.

Chapter Five

He may have faked a rather convincing proper English gentleman for his wife and sister, but David had felt increasingly apprehensive about the ball all day. Even though the war had cost him very much, his regiment had not suffered quite like others who had stayed through the winter, and he was afraid he would have to field questions about battles he had not been part of. Fortunately, since he had sold his commission when he was invalided out, he was no longer expected to wear the uniform, which would likely divert some of the questions and prying eyes. He looked around as they exited the carriage and felt his heart sink. There were so many stairs leading to the doorway as the two staircases fanned out to the entrance. While he felt comfortable with his cane, it was still exhausting. Before the war, he would have never noticed the number of stairs or considered how unnecessary and limiting they were.

As they entered, he felt he was looking at a distorted mirror of his former life. As they passed through the receiving line, to his horror, he noticed several women scowling at Elena and several men giving her lascivious looks. He felt a sudden pang of what marriage to him had meant for her. While it had saved her from the battlefields of the Crimea, this was another battle one had to fight over and over again, though instead of cannons and gunpowder, rumor and scandal ran amok. As he watched her, smiling serenely and greeting those she knew, he vowed to shield her from any barbs of the ton. She looked so elegant in a navy silk gown that bore her shoulders and her décolletage, the shine of the deep blue highlighting the contrast with her golden skin. His heart had stopped and started again when he saw her descending the stairs, reminding him of the first time he had seen her, even though she had been wearing a plain gray dress that day.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she walked past those who scowled. It was their loss that they couldn’t see past her foreignness, accent, or background to know the magnificent being that she was. But then he supposed they didn’t deserve to know her, which made him feel slightly better. He wondered if he would have appreciated her in his previous life, in that distorted mirror that it was, though logically, he would never have even met her had he not gone to war. He realized that sharing that time with her outside Balaclava had bonded him to her in some way he could never undo, even if he tried. And he did not want to undo it.

****

Later in the evening, David watched Irene dancing with one of the many young men who had sought her out. He was somewhat concerned with the false smile she had worn in almost every dance, but he did not want to interfere with her night. He wondered if he should have found Irene a sponsor or chaperone, as between him, Sophie, and Elena, they all had little experience with the ton. He ought to, but he had been so busy with the business since he had inherited the title that he had spent little time at social events. Observing Irene’s dour expression, he decided that a companion or chaperone wouldn’t have made her happier here. He stifled a sigh. He understood how Irene was feeling, how far away this stuffy ballroom was from his life the past few years. The crush of people reminded him of waiting in the trenches with no space to breathe. He suddenly felt the intense need to leave, to get out. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Elena’s arm. He felt her small shock.

“Are you quite well, my lord?” She covered his gloved hand with her own.

“I’m all right.” David took a deep breathe. “Would you like to get some air?”

She looked at him quizzically.

“Step outside with me,” he explained. He forgot she did not know all the English euphemisms for things they did not actually want to say. He removed his hand and offered her his arm, which she tentatively took. They spoke briefly with a matron he had long known to keep an eye on Irene for a moment.

The courtyard was silver in the moonlight. He looked around to see if anyone else was out there, then when he saw no one as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight, he inhaled and exhaled. She led him to a small bench.

“Is it so bad?”

“Most of the time, I’m fine, but every now and then,” He shook his head as if to clear it. “And to be here, to see everything I took for granted all those years. It feels wrong to be here when others can’t.”

“Yes,” she said softly. He felt the wind change, giving the night an unseasonable chill, and then remembered he was a gentleman.

“You must be cold.” He removed his coat, then hung it across her bare shoulders, letting his gloved hand linger across her bare skin for a moment. She did not seem to notice his pulse race as she accepted it and pulled it tighter. She was looking at him with great concern, her brows furrowing, and he realized he needed to shift the atmosphere.

“What do you think of them?”

“Who?”

“Them.” He gestured back toward the ballroom. “The ton.”

“Oh, I suppose they think me an oddity.”

“The scar might help.”

“Yes.” She winced and touched her scar. “Whenever I feel particularly vulnerable, I make sure my scar is most visible, and I try to look intimidating and mysterious so no one will actually speak with me.”

She seemed to weigh telling him something and then looked up at him with a somewhat embarrassed expression. “You should know, they think I seduced you with my brazen foreign wiles. That I trapped you into marriage somehow.” She exaggerated her accent a bit at the end of her statement as if also striving to keep things light.

“How dare they say such a thing—” He moved as if to return to the ballroom, but she held up a gloved hand.