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CHAPTERELEVEN
Staring at the shattered glass all over the floor, splattered with blood, Edwina tried to hold the tears back in her eyes. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Lizbeth and Simon behind her.
“What happened?” Simon asked, immediately concerned, stepping on the broken pieces. Lizbeth picked her way through the glass to come to Edwina’s side.
“His Grace must have…” Edwina tried to explain, gesturing at the pieces of the mirror across the floor. She did not know what caused the wreckage.
“Are you hurt?” Lizbeth asked, taking Edwina’s hands.
“Oh, no,” she breathed, looking at the blood. “This is His Grace’s.” Lizbeth and Simon continued to take in the disaster, obviously as confused as Edwina.
“Did he mention where he went?” Edwina asked. “He just stormed out.”
“I did not see,” Simon said, shaking his head. “I just saw him rushing out the back door.”
“Is he often like this?” Edwina asked Simon, struggling to keep the tears back. “So… volatile?”
Simon grimaced, hesitating to respond to her. After a long moment, he told her, “He has not been the same since he came back from France.”
“What do you mean, came back from France?” Edwina asked, desperate for any information on her husband since he seemed adamant against telling her anything.
Simon shook his head. “He should tell you in time.” Overwhelmed with frustration, the tears finally fell from Edwina’s eyes. She shook, overwhelmed with the situation.
“Let us go get you cleaned up,” Lizbeth suggested, taking Edwina’s arm.
“Cleaning me will not help,” Edwina said through clenched teeth, trying to hold back sobs. “Since I have come here, I have been ignored and insulted. His Grace is apparently prone to violence, and I need to know if I am in danger here.”
Simon hesitated again but shook his head at last. “No, he is not a violent man. However, he spent a significant amount of time in the army.”
“Does your second statement not negate the first?” Edwina challenged, stepping forward as if she could intimidate the older, much larger man.
“Your Grace, if you would please, it is not my place,” he said gently, with kindness in his eyes.
“Do you care for him at all?” she challenged. “If he is hurting or struggling in any way, then should I not try to help him? To care for him? Can you not help me with that?”
“It must be his choice. You cannot force someone to do something they do not want to do.”
Edwina winced.
“I am sorry, Your Grace, I did not mean it like that.”
“No, I married His Grace by choice because of an agreement we made. I also choose to be a good wife to him — whether he likes it or not.”
Edwina turned to leave the room, and Lizbeth fell into step beside her, taking her shoulders gently. Her anger toward her husband replaced her frustration, and her tears stopped flowing. Back in her rooms, Lizbeth poured water for Edwina and handed her a cloth to dry her hands after she finished washing. As she dried her hands, she collapsed into a chair and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
“I must get him to confide in me,” she mused aloud to Lizbeth.
“You were so quiet this morning. Is there anything you want to discuss about last night?”
Edwina waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing happened last night. He looked at me like I repulsed him and told me that he wanted us to get more comfortable with each other before fleeing the room as soon as I asked him a question.”
Lizbeth came to sit next to her. “I am so sorry. Surely, he could not be repulsed by you.”
“It surely did seem that way to me. And today, I tried to help him. I am not sure what happened, but I think he may have punched that mirror. His hand was bleeding so much, but he threw me out as soon as I tried to help — but he did not have his mask on.”
“He didn’t?” Lizbeth asked in surprise. “What did he look like?”
“Oh, I was terrified at first. He was shaking with anger, blood on his hands, then to see the scars on his face. They raise up from the skin, angry and pink still, so they must be only a few years old. Honestly, though, I guess I thought he was hiding something worse, like a gaping hole in his cheek, but it is just a few raised ridges that run from the top of his jaw to his temple.”
