Page 17 of The Baron Takes a Wife

He nodded. “I really can help teach you if you like. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m going to the hospital.”

“The hospital? Would you like me to accompany you?”

She shook her head. “I go every week, if not more.”

“Then I should like to come and see what you do every week, if not more.”

He seemed set on this course, and she could not find any reason to disagree. But she was still so confused as to why she enjoyed a man’s touch so much. She would need to take a little space from him to consider her response.

“Yes, my l—yes, David.” She could see the satisfaction in his eyes from what she had said. Dratted man. She would have to avoid him until after the ball that evening.

Chapter Six

Another ball, another crush. Elena was always a bit overwhelmed by the large skirts on the gowns in fashion in London these days. And the corsets! She never wore such restrictive garments at home. But she must stop thinking of home right now. As she fanned herself, her eyes sought out Irene again. Irene had a full dance card, but as far as Elena could see, Irene looked like a waxen doll. She hardly smiled at her suitors, and when she did, it was a tepid, cold thing. Nothing like what she looked like at the hospital, or with her brother, or even the way she lit up when laughing with Elena. Elena felt a brief sting of guilt at how much Irene wanted to be a sister of her heart and how many barriers she had erected out of fear that Irene would replace her own sisters. Couldn’t she make more room in her heart for Irene, who had so few family members as it was?

Elena accidentally bumped into her husband in her distraction, who caught her before they both fell. She looked up to apologize and saw the same concern for Irene written across his features. She also saw the same anxiety she had seen the last time they had been at a ball as he gripped his cane tightly.

“Husband, would you like to, as you say, get some air?” Following his gaze, she noted, “Irene will not feel better if we are over here worrying over her.”

He nodded, his hand still gripped tightly to his cane, then offered her his arm as they made their way outside to a courtyard. She found a bench outside for them to sit quietly for a few moments before he spoke.

“Thank you,” he rasped. “For noticing. I suppose I need—”

“I know.” She hadn’t realized she had set her hand on his again. This time, she didn’t remove it. He looked to be in need of something, maybe comfort. He turned his palm over and gripped her hand tightly, glove to glove.

“You know, it should be quite a success that Irene has had a full dance card everywhere we go.” He had put his casually light voice on, but Elena did not protest or delve deeper into his discomfort. She understood not wanting to talk about things that were too painful. “As my mother was in trade, and my father’s family, our title is less than half a century old, our blood is not very blue.”

“Blue?” she asked, puzzled by this turn in the conversation.

“Oh, it means some of the older families look down upon us.”

“But what does that have to do with the color of blood? I have unfortunately seen your blood, and it is indeed very red.” She felt a strange intimacy discussing the color of his blood, but the British truly said the strangest things.

“I feel I have a lifetime of explaining British turns of phrase to you, my dear. You ought to keep notes.” She blanched slightly at the endearment but hoped he did not notice. “Peerage and nobility are often referred to by the quality of blood, in other words, how blue their blood is, meaning how old their family or title dates back. I don’t know where the phrase comes from exactly, but you hear it here and there. I think it might have come from Spanish nobility…”

“But, no one’s blood is special or different. I’ve seen many men’s blood.” He stared at her, his humor evaporating a little in the confession that she had seen the blood of many men. She often forgot that being at the officer’s hotel and visiting hospitals, she had likely seen things many women would never have imagined.

She let the odd moment pass and went on. “And it all runs red. It just looks blue sometimes. But truly, no one’s blood is any different color as far as I’ve seen. That’s silly. In my homeland, we have a saying that essentially means we all have the same blood under our skin.” That wasn’t quite the expression, but she struggled to translate it into English.

“Yes, well, it’s the British peerage, darling. It’s not supposed to make sense,” he drawled.

“So very peculiar.” She shook her head. While she had intended to banter to take his mind off his reaction to the crowd, she truly did not understand much of the logic of the British aristocracy. But then, she supposed most societies, like hers, had unspoken rules and hierarchies. For the sake of future social interactions, she ought to write these things down.

“Truer words were never spoken.” He lifted her hand, which she forgot he was still holding, and gently kissed her knuckles. That strange energy from before roared back and caused her heart to stumble slightly. But was that panic? Or something on top of the panic? Looking up at him, she recognized it did not matter. She had offered her hand and conversation in comfort, and now he was smiling, so her goal was complete. She tentatively smiled back. He paused momentarily as if he had forgotten what they had been talking about, then cleared his throat and continued.

“But as I said, at least half of them likely look down on us because the title is so recent. Before fifty years ago, we were merely merchant stock on my father’s side. But I must be polite to everyone even if they are rude because we need their clubs and households to purchase our sherry.”

They slipped into silence again. She noticed he was still holding her hand.

“May I ask you something?”

Elena cocked her head to the side and nodded slowly. Suddenly, his tone had turned serious, and she was curious as to why.

“The song you used to sing. What did it mean?”

She thought for a moment. Half the song did not translate into English words. It was merely soothing sounds to comfort children. “It was just a lullaby. Something we sang to children to get them to sleep at night.”