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“I have them too.”
She looked at him, doubt clouding her mind. “Why would you—”
“From the war. From what I saw in battle. Mark has them as well. Worse than I do. We’ve tried to keep them from the others, but it is hard. Mark has found other lodgings and will be moving out soon. I have known others who—it takes time, Sarah.”
She shook her head. “It has been more than a year. Almost two.”
“A short amount of time for such things. In truth, it may never go away completely.”
Sarah reached up and stroked his cheek. “I am too damaged.”
“No.” He placed his hand over hers. “As you said, we are not children.”
“I—I—” She took a deep breath. She would say this. Now or never. Stay or go. “This time... I think I reacted to your words.” Another steadying breath, then the plunge. “I want more than remarkable, Matthew. I had sealed myself off, but you have broken that seal. I am falling in love with you. I do not want to feel the numbness I had with Owen. From the outside, we had a ‘remarkable’ life, but inside we were rotten. So I want more than just remarkable.”
The smile spreading across his face also held a sly humor. “I never took you for greedy, Lady Crewood. A superlative lifeandlove?”
Sarah caught the humor, relief seeping through her. “This is your fault. You have made me want more. Expectations. Love. More.”
Matthew stood and urged her to her feet. “Then we will have to see what we can do.”
Chapter Eleven
Saturday, 30 July 1814
Embleton House
Nine in the evening
“You do realizenot even one of Wellington’s campaigns could have progressed this rapidly.” Mark, still in his full military regalia from the wedding, leaned against Matthew’s bedchamber door. “You could have waited the full month for the banns to be read and Mother to plan the breakfast.”
Matthew put away his razor and wiped his face with a towel. “Given that much time, Mother would have staged the breakfast at Astley’s and turned out the entirety of Mayfair at St. George’s. I think the quieter affair suited Sarah and me.” Especially after what he had witnessed on Thursday. Her moment of panic, her terrified recall of flames that had burned her, reminded him far too much of what he had seen in soldiers trapped in battle, the nightmares that he and Mark both experienced. He had watched her like a proverbial hawk all day, but she had shown no similar indication.
She had been beautiful in an emerald-green gown that emphasized her hair, which had been caught up in soft waves and held in place by green feathers and lace. She had been jovial, and her face had glowed as she met him at the altar of the cathedral. Only his family and her servants had attended, and the breakfast had been a family affair in the Embleton dining room. Afterward Sarah and he had retired to their respective bedchambers—hers now adjoined his through a shared dressing room. He had rested and tried to nap, although he could occasionally hear Sarah and Reid continuing to unpack and organize. He had told her he would come to her tonight around nine, and she thanked him for the forewarning.
Forewarning. He was not entirely sure he liked that term as a response.
“Have you told her?”
Matthew retied his banyan and finished tidying his washstand before turning to Mark. “About the magistrate?”
His brother nodded.
“Lewis came too late last night for me to send a message. And opportunities today have been slim.”
Mark’s grin turned wicked. “Surely you are not going to bring it up...” He gestured toward the door of the dressing room.
“Of course not. Do not be absurd.” Matthew retied the sash on his banyan again.
Mark’s eyebrows arched. “Are you nervous about going into her?”
“No. Why would you think such?” Matthew fidgeted with the knot in his sash, and Mark cleared his throat. Matthew dropped his hands to his sides. “I have no idea why. I have certainly been with women before—”
“Many, if memory serves.” His brother smiled. “But never a wife.”
“She asked me to wait until after sundown.”
“Less light in the room. The scars? She still believes you will be repulsed?”
