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Chapter 28
When Sam opened her eyes again, the room was dark. At first, she thought it was night, but when her eyes adjusted, she saw a crack of light behind the thick drapes. She got up and drew them apart, letting the sun in. It was probably midafternoon, judging by the position of the sun.
Sam was alone in her own room. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent the night in her own room. Ever since they started sharing a bed, she’d spent all of her nights in John’s bedroom. She looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing her chemise. She decided to get dressed before she ventured out of the confines of her room.
Sam went to the dressing room and selected one of her day gowns that she could put on without the help of the maid. Once she drew it on, she moved to the looking glass and froze. Her gaze immediately settled on her neck. It was swollen, and she could clearly see black and blue handprints on it. She shuffled closer to the looking glass and almost cried from the ugliness of it. She ran a hand over the bruises. They smarted, but it no longer hurt to swallow.
“One, two, three,” she said. It didn’t hurt to speak either, although her voice was still hoarse.
She went back to the dressing room and took out a long shawl. She draped it over her neck and set out of her room.
Samantha checked her husband’s bedchamber first. The room was dark, the drapes shut. The bed was carefully made up, and his blanket was missing from the floor by the balcony doors. Samantha left the room and went down the stairs.
The house was quiet. When she’d gone to bed that fateful night, there were so many guests, everyone running around, chatting, laughing. Now, the place felt like a mausoleum. Although she loved this house, after all the energy she’d put into the renovations, it still didn’t feel like home without the boisterous noises of people.
Carefully looking into every room she passed on her way, she finally found Isabel in the library.
“How are you feeling?” Isabel’s brows drew closer over her eyes in worry.
“Well,” Sam croaked. She put her hand on her throat. “It doesn’t hurt as much.”
“Good, good.” Isabel indicated a chair next to hers. “Do sit down. Do you want some warm tea? With honey, perhaps?”
Sam nodded and sat in the chair. “Where’s John?” Sam asked as she settled in the chair and straightened her skirts.
“He’s…” Isabel paused a bit, on her way to the servants’ bell, and looked over her shoulder. “He’s not here.”
She made the final two steps toward the bell and rang it. After asking the housemaid for tea, she settled back in her chair, making a great show of straightening her skirts.
“I’ve noticed,” Sam said hoarsely. “Where is he?”
“In London,” Isabel answered without looking at her.
“In London?” Sam shot from her chair so fast it nearly toppled back.
“Do be calm, Sam! Please, sit down.” Isabel softly, albeit firmly, forced her sister back into the chair.
“What is he doing in London?” Sam’s voice quivered as she asked. Why was he in London, how and with whom? While she was suffering here all alone. Well, not exactly alone, but she wasn’t with him either.
“He…” Isabel cleared her throat. “Richard made him leave.”
Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Not that he put up much of a fight. I suppose John agreed with the decision. He’s hurt you, Sam.”
“Not deliberately!” Her voice cracked, and she tried again, quieter. “He had a violent nightmare.” Sam’s eyes filled with tears and she willed them back.
“Sammy, sweetheart, people don’t just strangle their loved ones in their sleep.”
“He didn’t mean to,” Sam said, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “He’s had nightmares since the war, you wouldn’t know that. But I did. I just didn’t think…” Sam’s voice faltered. Her lips began to tremble, and she had difficulty drawing a proper breath.
“Relax, sweetheart, please. Just breathe, all right?” Isabel’s hand tightened around Sam’s. She reassuringly squeezed her fingers, then let go. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have left if he didn’t hold himself solely responsible.”
“Of course, he feels responsible,” Sam spat back, irritated and angry. Tears freely rolled down her face now. “Wouldn’t you? I am not harboring a wife beater, Isabel. He had never hurt me before, and he didn’t mean to hurt me then either.”
“Sammy, he could have killed you!”
“I can’t have this conversation with you right now.” Sam wiped her tears with the sleeve of her gown. “You can’t possibly imagine what he must be feeling. If what you are saying is true. I have to go to him.”
