Page 21 of The Baron Takes a Wife

She gave him a look. Now that he was back in the company of women, he was getting used to receiving that particular look.

“Should I have been?”

David didn’t know how to answer. He knew that as the sister and daughter of a peer, Irene ought to have a Season. But he realized he had never really asked her what she wanted.

“Irene.” He sighed. “I’m not very good at this. Elena’s not from England, and Aunt Sophie grew up in trade, so I don’t know anyone who could have helped you. Lord Gaius had a sister-in-law, but she died before Antigone was to have a season. I should have spoken to you before assuming—”

“It’s all right, David.” Irene took pity on him. “I’m just not the same girl I used to be. I’m unsure if I ever want to marry, and I feel too young to do so at this point. And the purpose of the Season is to essentially find a husband.”

“Why don’t you try to enjoy yourself, and that will be your purpose. And if you meet someone you wouldn’t mind…” His discomfort with discussing this subject with his little sister rose substantially. “Spending time with, then, that would be capital.”

Irene sighed. “It’s hard to enjoy oneself in that environment. So much waste and excess.”

David smiled, remembering his own younger self. “Yes, but you can enjoy it and still feel superior.”

Irene swatted him. She then turned serious. “I should so like to do something with my life, David. I couldn’t stand it if this was all there was. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

He remembered coming to the same conclusion several years earlier in this very room. They were indeed strangely alike despite their age difference.

“I’m still figuring that out as well, Irene.”

Chapter Seven

David had not seen Suzanne Raeburn since their conversation outside Balaclava, as she had departed for the north days later, and he and Elena had left shortly after. Fortunately, he had enough connections in the army and shipping that their exit was swift. They made the journey back to Portsmouth, and then he’d left for Bern upon reaching London after he sorted out the issue of a license.

Time had not dulled Suzanne Raeburn, though she looked like she had carried things back from Balaclava. Whether it was illness or weariness, he could not tell.

“Mrs. Raeburn, you look as radiant as last I saw you.” He felt somewhat unsteady from climbing the stairs to the hospital and sought to cover his fatigue with good humor. Elena started to say something but stopped and remained silent. Something warmed in him as he gave thanks that she understood he did not want attention drawn to his difficulty with stairs.

“He’s such a charmer. I shouldn’t have let you marry him, Elena. You know how I told you not to trust handsome, charming men.”

He often forgot about his face, but he couldn’t think of himself as handsome anymore. Not compared to what he used to be. “Well, good thing I’m no longer handsome.”

Elena gently swatted his arm. She reached up to adjust his hair, then let her fingertips lightly graze the left side of his face. He froze. This was her second time touching him in the past few days. This had to be progress.

“You’re still rather handsome, my lord.”

Even though he’d rather not think about his looks, he was delighted she found him handsome, and he forgot all about the stairs. It must have shown on his face because Elena looked as though she wanted to roll her eyes at him.

“Do not look so pleased, my lord. I am unsure of how I feel about handsome men.” She lowered her hand. “I am not inclined to trust them.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, so he looked to the other woman.

“I might look a bit different from the last time I saw you.” He couldn’t keep the grin from his voice as he handed his cane to Elena to show how he could stand without it. Mrs. Raeburn looked genuinely happy for him, and Elena was beaming. As proud as he was of himself, of his own determination, he was struck by the realization that these two women were as much to thank for his life as all the doctors he saw abroad. If they hadn’t built the hotel, if Elena hadn’t been there when he woke up, he might not be here today. He looked at both of them, lost for words at how to thank them. For an English gentleman, he was better than most at recognizing and expressing his feelings, but that wasn’t saying very much.

Mrs. Raeburn did not seem to mind his lapse as she went on. “While I am no doctor, I’m guessing that your body did much of the work, as your paralysis was temporary and not permanent. Though I suppose the doctors in Switzerland showed you exercises to help you relearn how to walk essentially?”

David nodded, not surprised that she was familiar with the workings of the clinic.

They spent the remainder of the day touring the various hospital wards. He was impressed by everything but particularly moved by the adjacent convalescent home for veterans of the Crimean War. He felt oddly humbled that he could walk about with his beautiful wife while many men lay in beds, missing limbs, or, he shuddered to think, so mentally anguished they could not return to their former lives.

At one point, when he had lingered in the convalescent home while Elena and Mrs. Raeburn had moved on, he dropped his cane. It landed with a sudden and loud clang that seemed to disturb one of the men from a bed, who looked around, shaking uncontrollably. David, who felt guilty for making the noise, grabbed the man by the forearm.

“Breathe,” he commanded quietly. “Count backward from ten,” he said, remembering one of the practices from the clinic. The man settled, took a deep breath, and then looked up. He was sweaty and pallid, but he glanced at David gratefully.

“Thanks, milord.”

David was embarrassed by the distance the man put between them, but he did not know how to overcome it. Perhaps if he shared a small amount of himself…