Page 5 of The Baron Takes a Wife

She froze, her hand in midair as if unaware of her actions. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

They stared at each other for a moment. In that instant, he began to feel a thread of something stronger than admiration take hold in his chest and weave through the heavy air. He did not know what it was, but he knew that she understood something about him that not even his oldest friends would comprehend, and that was not insignificant. Even though she knew nothing of his life, and he knew almost nothing of hers.

He felt drained from the revelation of his face and set the hand mirror down. She turned back to the book.

“My reading is very slow.” She bit her lip. If he wasn’t so distracted by his own misery, he noted that he would have appreciated the fullness of her lips. “My apologies.”

He shook his head and gestured with his hand as if to brush the thought away as she began to read.

“The good people of Paris were awakened by a grand peal from all the bells in the three districts of the city,” she began to read, then stopped. “So Paris is a large city with different sections, like Constantinople?” she asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, not really registering what she was saying, and she went back to her reading, which was, admittedly, a bit slow. He tried to watch her and listen to the words, but the pain and dread of his future, of his face, his legs, everything, kept creeping back. Fortunately, sleep overtook him before the panic could completely take hold.

Chapter Two

She did not return the next day. Or the next. David had promised her he would try to move his toes, but he found he could not bring himself to put forth the effort. He would spend hours convincing himself she did not return because he was a monster because she was afraid of him. Somehow, the power in his life had swung off its access. In London, he had never had to seek out female companionship. It was only in the past year or two that he had begun to feel something missing, this void that led him to run off to war and purchase himself a commission in a haze of idealism and gallantry. And now, here he was, desperately waiting for one woman to whom he was only one of many wounded men. He sighed. Mayhap this would be good for him, humble him. He needed to make sense of everything that had happened. Here he was, alive when so many had died needlessly. He had to find some good, something to walk away with. Because if he couldn’t, what had it all been for?

The doctor gave him more laudanum for the pain, and he felt that yearning to find something good begin to slip away. That night, he thought, if only I could take just a little more. Or he could ask the angel.

She came back on the third day. The screens were up again, and the sky was dark, so he could not tell what time of day it was. His joy at her appearance quickly gave way to an inexplicable anger. He looked away when she entered.

“I brought the book.”

“I thought you were coming ages ago.” He had barely used his own voice in days, and it came out in a harsh whisper. He realized he hated the sound of his voice.

“I’m sorry, I was delayed. There was an outbreak of cholera, so Mrs. Raeburn and I went around the camps to help. She knows how to treat cholera better than almost anyone here.”

He knew he had no right to be angry, no claim to her, but he couldn’t control the melancholy that was swallowing him, that made him discontented when he had only ever been even-tempered before. He saw she had a satchel with her this time. It looked to him to be filled with bottles.

“Do you have any laudanum?”

“Laudanum? But I spoke with the doctor…you have had enough already.”

He still looked away. “Well, yes, but I could always use some more.”

“You need to take only what is given to you. If you take too much, it could kill you.” He was still looking away, but he could hear strength and conviction in her tone, even through her heavy accent.

“Would that be so bad?” He despised the note of self-pity in his voice, but there it was.

“Yes! Will you look at me, David?” It was the first time she had ever used his Christian name. The shock of it alone made him turn toward her slowly.

“Do you have any family?” she asked him, her gaze not leaving his. He had thought them warm before, but now they gleamed molten. He nodded, fixated on her glowing irises.

“Yes, my sister and my aunt.”

“Do you love them?” He thought of his little sister, Irene, and how much she looked like his mother, how her face lit up as she played the piano. His aunt Sophie, brave and funny, unwilling to suffer fools. He nodded again. Elena knelt to look at him, eyes at his level.

“I would kill to have my family back. I am no soldier, and I do not say that lightly. Your family, you would be leaving them alone in this life. This world…you men have it set up so you leave your women unprotected. The things we must do to survive.” She shuddered, her golden-brown eyes losing some of their luster. “Yes, we suffer, and horrible things happen.” She appeared to touch her scar inadvertently. “But we must think of the other people who depend on us. We must think of ourselves that we deserve to survive. So yes, it would be so bad.”

He had never heard her speak like this, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her face. It was the most she had ever spoken to him at a time, and unlike before, her words did not have the usual pauses in between but came out in fiery benediction. His first reaction, anger, slowly gave way to a greater sense of awe. She straightened and sat on his bed, which she had also never done before, as if her speech had drained her of energy. He summoned his strength, reached up, and gently stroked her scar. She froze.

“How did this happen to you, Elena?” He had never used her Christian name either, but it seemed they were crossing many boundaries that day.

She was silent for a long time as she stared at her hands, then she began to speak very quietly.

“I suppose I owe you that much since I yelled at you.” She sighed, still staring at her hands, spreading her fingers across her lap. He wasn’t sure if she would continue when she began. “I had a match with another merchant’s son in my village. It would have united both our families. I did not love him, but I would have tried to be a good wife for the sake of my family.” She cleared her throat and continued. “But then I met a new man who came to my village from Russia. I thought myself in love. That finally, I was having the adventure I had always dreamed of. I forgot my duty to my family. All I could think of was him. Us. I was so selfish.” Even though she spoke rather evenly, as if recounting a story that happened to someone else, she couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. “He convinced me to run away with him. We tried to leave the day the Imperial Russian army invaded Dobruja. I see now he thought we could take shelter with the Russians, maybe go on to Moscow. I did not realize the invasion was to happen later that day. I suppose it does not matter now.” She was speaking almost to herself now as if she had forgotten David was even there.

“But after a few hours, I changed my mind. I begged him that we should return to my family to receive their blessing. Whatever happened, I did not want to part with them like that, to bring them dishonor or never see them again.” She added the last part quietly, and with such sadness, he felt a pang in his chest for her. He saw her tighten her hands in her lap as she brought them back together.