Page 55 of The Baron Takes a Wife

“I was, once.” She turned and looked back in the mirror, trying to remember that girl she had been. She realized that she tended to idealize that time, the time she always called before, and that she had grown, possibly in some good ways since then. “When I was younger, I was rather vain. I led several boys in my village on a merry dance.”

“I can’t fault you for that. Most young people are vain. I think I was rather vain before I went to war. Fate had different things in store for both of us.” They both absentmindedly touched their scarred temples. She caught his eye in her mirror, and he gave her a small smile and continued. “Except your scar only makes you more beautiful, as it always makes me think of your determination to survive. A determination that led you here.”

Elena turned around again and stared at him. This time, he did not catch himself but met her gaze with an intensity of his own. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She wanted to say something in return. That he was beautiful both because of and in spite of his scars as well.

But instead, she said, “Not all young people are vain. Irene isn’t.”

He snapped out of the moment they had been in and smirked. “Irene is a unique case. She takes after Sophie.”

“She would put her hand in the fire for those she loves.” Elena’s heart squeezed as she thought of her grandmother’s saying, and how it applied to her new sister, then she caught herself. When had she started to think of Irene as a sister? This conversation was getting out of hand when she should focus on the evening ahead of them.

“What color would you say this gown is, Husband?” She tried to return the conversation back to her dress. “I do not know the names for all the shades of color in English.”

He gestured for her to stand and turn around. As she acquiesced, Goliath gave a short bark at the motion.

“It’s all right, little one.”

“Little?” David snorted. Goliath gave him a look, then laid his head back down. David ignored this, putting his hand to his chin as if deep in thought.

“Sunset,” he said after she had slowly turned around. “I think the color is sunset.”

Elena hadn’t thought of that word as a color before, but she found herself deeply pleased by it and felt a slow smile creep across her face. Perhaps this gown would not compare with the diamonds of the ton, but it would do for a dinner with old friends. She went back to her vanity to put on her gloves.

“I am glad we will be among friends tonight. Not quite so many people.”

“True, though with you and this chap, I think I’ve become better equipped to handle crowds than I used to be.”

“Still.”

“Still.” He stood, set down his glass, and traced the line of her jaw with his gloved hand, the feeling of the glove simultaneously rough and smooth against her skin. She was overcome for a moment by how much she had missed his touch, how exhilarating but deeply comforting it was all at the same time. As he pulled his hand away, Elena felt her heartbeat change, then drew a breath to settle herself as she bid Goliath goodnight.

****

David had now been to several social events with his wife, but none with only his friends. He prayed that everyone behaved, though he doubted Elena would cast judgment if they did not. She had that wonderful gift of accepting everyone as they were and seeing the best in them, no matter what. He had meant what he said earlier, she might not know it, but Elena’s gift was to draw out the strengths of others, particularly when they didn’t see it themselves. Hell, she had seen something in him when he was little more than a stranger and in Goliath when anyone else would have left him to die.

Regarding his friends as they entered, he was struck by how aristocratic they appeared, which made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. In spite of his title, he did not always think of himself as an aristocrat. With one foot in trade and the other in the peerage, he often felt like a strange outsider with no clearly defined role. And yet his unique social position had been oddly welcoming for Elena, as he was sure that neither Henry’s nor Michael’s ancient, titled families would have been pleased if they had brought home a foreign bride from the war. As he formally introduced her to Henry, Elena met Henry’s irreverence with amusement, and he was glad to see his old friend looking more animated, more human than he had before. Sophie, who had deigned to join them, appeared both entertained and annoyed by the mostly aristocratic guests, though she had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since they had returned from the hospital several days prior. But she had always gotten along well with Lord Gaius who, for a scholar and gentlemen, had the ability to talk to people of all walks of life. Sophie always mentioned how she enjoyed his lack of sense of what was fashionable and his slightly eccentric household.

Michael was also there and even more his typical self than usual, droning on about the war and their recent conversation regarding various armies. Michael was generally not one to surrender a point until it had been thoroughly dissected, so David groaned internally when Michael decided to return to the issue of the size of the Russian army at dinner.

As he spoke, David saw Elena begin to fidget in the corner of his eye, first with her napkin, then with the folds of her gown. Those who did not know her well or who were generally unobservant, like Michael, might not notice she was distressed, but David now knew her better than he knew himself, and he shot Michael a look full of daggers. Michael, the fool, was belaboring an academic point, not once stopping to think that details of the Russian military might be a sore spot for someone like Elena, whose whole life was overturned by a Russian invasion. Or himself, for that matter. Fortunately, Lord Gaius’s daughter, Antigone, noticed Elena and David’s discomfort.

With her eyes wide, she turned to Michael, who was sitting to her right, and, apropos of nothing, asked, “Lord Michael, if there is a war in the United States, will Britain fight against slavery?”

Michael quickly turned his head toward her, not seeming to mind the change in subject as long as he could have an opinion about it.

“Antigone, there won’t be a war.”

David saw a small line cross her brow. He remembered that both Elena and Irene had told him she did not like to be called by her full name. It was also rather inappropriate for Michael to use her Christian name when she had politely called him Lord Michael, even if he had been given leave to do so before.

“Father says that John Brown has been raising money among abolitionists in New England, and in Canada, they had a congress—”

“And very few people attended.”

“Still, if there is a war, shouldn’t Britain fight against slavery?”

“Even if there is a war, Britain will mind its own affairs.”

“But Britain profited from the slave trade—”