Page 20 of Lord of the Lost

Irritated, she stood, and rang the bell, summoning her maid. She would ask for a tray to be brought to her, for she could not face the thought of dinner with Devlin’s mother and sister, could not face seeing their misery reflecting her own. Millie came quickly and, while she tried to keep her expression impassive, Mona knew that she was curious.

She chose to ignore that – the servants could think whatever they liked, but Mona would give them no scope for gossip.

“Millie, please get Cook to send up a tray for me – I have a megrim, and won’t be going down to dinner. Also, let Her Grace know that I will be taking my meal in my room, and then retiring. Once I’ve eaten, you can help me prepare for bed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The girl curtsied and left. Mona turned back to the window, where the sky was now dark, but for the moon where it could be glimpsed behind clouds. She shivered, remembering the night she had met Devlin at the gate, how the moon had silvered him, making him seem both more handsome and more strange at the same time. As if he had belonged to the night, more than to the day, a ghost amongst the ghosts of war that haunted him.

That image stayed with her, even once she had eaten, and Millie had readied her for her bed. A bed she lay in, painfully awake, her mind still on Devlin, wherever he was.

Moonlight slipped through the cracks in the now closed shutters, casting the room into black and silver – a fit place for a haunting, with the old stones of the walls only partly covered by wainscotting, and the sense of age which filled every corner of the Castle.

She snorted, mocking herself. Devlin’s dark moods were obviously infecting her! Haunting indeed!

If this room was to be haunted, let it be haunted by her happy memories of the past, before Devlin had gone to war. She was unlikely to sleep, until she knew that he was home tonight, but at least she could dwell on pleasant thoughts while she waited. Perhaps those thoughts would help her see how to reach him – the man that she knew was still there, behind the cold façade.

~~~~~

A door crashed open in the middle of the night, the sound echoing through the hallways and rooms of the Castle.

Mona surged bolt upright in her bed, shocked, her heart pounding.

Not that she had been asleep - she had hardly even tried to rest.

For, knowing that her husband was out there, somewhere, doing the Lord only knew what, with the Lord only knew whom had preyed on her mind, despite her determination to dwell on good memories, rather than doubts. Improper thoughts had again entered her mind of Devlin in some low house with a low woman doing low things. Not that she really thought that likely, but she could not know, and she had tormented herself with all manner of thoughts while she waited.

Now it seemed, from the sounds she was hearing of his slurred voice telling the footman on duty to leave him be, that he was back, but she doubted she would be talking with him tonight.

She could tell, from his uneven footsteps, if the voice hadn’t been enough, that he was foxed - and she knew, instinctively, that it was not the hearty inebriation that came with a little ale by the fireside. It was the wild intoxication of a reckless youth, or a man with things to forget. She wanted to make sure that he was well, but decorum dictated that she leave him be, that she not interfere with her husband, but allow him to go to his own bedroom at his own speed.

He would probably be most annoyed, if not embarrassed, if she saw him so much in his cups. But… she had never truly been all that good at decorum…

And she could not kill her curiosity.

She crept from her bed to the door and laid her ear against the wood. Devlin was outside, further down the hallway, and it sounded like he was pacing. He muttered something under his breath, but it was too quietly spoken for Mona to make out.

She listened more intently, pressing her ear harder against the wood. Almost as if he had sensed her need to hear, he spoke louder.

“You love her, you love her, you love her. But you can’t have her, not you. Not you.” Mona felt a lurch in her belly. Was he talking of her or was he talking of another woman? “Mona,” he said, and Mona let out a sigh of relief. “I am not worthy of you, my love. I am not worthy.”

Hearing his words, she was left feeling almost dizzy, and for a moment, she clung to the door as her knees went weak. Perhaps there was still hope for her dreams, after all. Perhaps it might be easier to reach him than she had thought…

Mona pushed herself back from the door, knowing already what she would do. She knew that it was wrong – she was in her nightclothes, and stepping out of her bedroom like that was a truly scandalous idea – but the impulsiveness which had led her to meet with Devlin by the gate that night now led her to grasp the door handle and turn it — led her to step out into the hallway.

At the sound of the door, Devlin spun and regarded her in the darkness.

“Mona?”

It was barely a whisper.

“It is I,” she replied softly, “you are worthy, my love. You are the worthiest man I know. Come with me. Let me hold you. Come with me, my love.”

The words had come tumbling out, admitting the truth of her feelings – a truth which she had, to some extent, been hiding from herself, until earlier this night.

When he hesitated, she held her breath – had she said too much? Would he reject her, would he be overcome by that cold distance again?

But then he stumbled towards her. She went to him, slipped her arm around him and steadied him as she led him into the bedroom and to the bed, kicking the door closed behind them. Awkwardly, she helped him to sit, and then lie down on the bed. Once he seemed comfortable, she stroked his forehead, which was damp with sweat.

“Your hand is cool,” he murmured, his eyes falling closed. “Your hand is so cool, Mona.” He let out something between a cough and a sob, but no tears touched his eyes. “I love you, Mona. I think I have always loved you, in my way. But something died over there. The Almighty, on those battlefields, He stole something from me, Mona. He stole my heart.”

“You are wrong.”

Mona whispered the words, but Devlin did not hear them, for he had started to snore, the ale finally tipping him into a deep sleep.

She kept her hand on his face then, after a few minutes, she tugged loose his crumpled cravat, unbuttoned his waistcoat and, after failing to remove it, pulled off his boots, threw a cover over him, then climbed into bed beside him.