Chapter Eight

January 20, 1818

Baselton House

St. James Place

Vivian couldn't keep her mind on her letter writing, for her thoughts kept being distracted and jogging back to Evan. Of course she was worried about her husband's safety, but she couldn't help but think about him, for he'd spent the past two nights with her in some capacity or another.

Since the night he'd come into her room and finally kissed her properly, something had shifted in their relationship ever so slightly. He spent more time with her, and she appreciated that, for he was solicitous and charming, even when a day terror caught him. And while she delighted in his efforts to feel more comfortable in her presence, she worried about his state of mind.

Why had he not coupled with her two nights ago when he'd had the opportunity? Did he truly believe he wouldn't be able to satisfy her? Or worse yet, was that something he'd also forgotten how to perform? To say nothing of his assumption that she'd remained faithful to him during his absence. She had tried to explain that night, but he'd cut her off, had apparently not wished to talk during that intense session of kissing. Still, the hot guilt and shame continued to circle through her insides, for sooner or later she would need to admit her sin.

Something would have to break, for they were both headed toward a crossroads.

With a renewed focus, she returned to her letter writing, but her heart wasn't in it. After spending the time she had with Evan, she was slowly beginning to realize the man he used to be was not going to return, and that she needed to accept the man that he was now. That terrified her a little, for what if the man he was didn't like the woman she'd become during his absence? Obviously, she'd had to grow and strengthen her resolve, to say nothing of the fact she was far less trusting, and she was far less willing to let a man sweep her away. And she was old enough to know exactly what she wanted from a partner.

Would he eventually come up to the mark?

She huffed out a sigh, and this time, she put her pen in its holder. There was simply no point in trying to continue writing the letter when her mind kept wandering. Currently, her husband was downstairs in his study, talking with his man-of-affairs, for he intended to make good on his promise to care more and better for his properties and the people who depended upon him. It was one of the things she admired about him. Would he feel she intruded on his time if she interrupted him and asked to go on their daily walk early?

The decision was made for her when the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside her morning room interrupted her thoughts. As she glanced at the door, she frowned when Lord Starkington preceded the butler by a few steps, and because of that, Davis did not look pleased.

"I made my wishes known to you in no uncertain terms the last time you paid me a visit, Edward." As she slowly rose from the chair behind her secretary, she narrowed her eyes. "Why the devil are you back?"

"My apologies, my lady," the butler said with a scowl to Edward's back. "He pushed his way past me and completely ignored me when I told him you weren't at home to visitors."

"Think nothing of it, Davis. It seems Lord Starkington's manners have gone missing. I will take care of this." She wasn't pleased to see him, and especially not when her husband was in residence at the same time. "If you could wait in the corridor until I call for you?" Perhaps if Edward knew there would be a witness, he would maintain discretion between them.

"Of course, my lady. Shall I notify His Lordship of this visit?"

Now that would be an interesting conflict to add to the poor Drury Lane production currently playing out here. "That would probably be the best course of action." And would put Edward on notice that her husband would join them imminently. "Thank you." Once the butler left, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "What do you want, Edward?"

"What I have always wanted since the day you first smiled at me, when you first let me pay my addresses to you." He came toward her using small, stalking steps as if he were a jungle cat and she was his prey. "I want you, and this time, I won't take no for answer, for you and I both know that your marriage is in name only. Quite frankly, your husband will never be whole again." His pursuit of her never stopped. "How the devil can you throw away your life on him never knowing if one bad nightmare will send him into melancholia so deep he'll want to end his life?"

Hearing one of her fears spoken aloud sent an icy tremble down her spine. "I will do my level best to ensure that won't happen."

Edward snorted. "You cannot be with him every minute of every day. It wouldn't take much to send the man over the edge."

"Stop. I don't want to hear that." She shook her head. "Refuse to dwell on it." And she tried to keep the secretary between her and the earl.

"That means you consider it a very real fear." A slow grin curved Edward's mouth, but there was no mirth behind the action. "You don't deserve such anxiety in your life, my dear. His problems are not your own. He is not the man you want him to be—never will be. The most humane thing you can do is give him up to his demons."

How can I do that when I still care for him? Or were those feelings only attached to the man she remembered from years ago? "While that may be true, you are not that man either." Vivian skittered around her desk, constantly retreating before him. "What you and I had is through. There is nothing left for you here."

"I beg to differ." The light of determination had entered his eyes. "You are here, and as I said before, I'm not giving up on us together."

Was the man daft? She came to a halt merely to prop her hands on her hips. "This is madness. I am married to Baselton. That is all."

"Has he bedded you since he's come back? Has he done anything for you that a husband would?"

"No, but we are slowly finding our way, and it's not your business anyway." Heat slapped at her cheeks. "Intimacy will come."

"Let him go, Vivian. Encourage him to grant you a divorce. Ask him to set you free so you can get on with your life." With every step, he drew closer, and Vivian didn't know if she was strong enough to resist him this time. "You are wasting your time being a caretaker to him. Marriage vows were never supposed to keep you a prisoner."

What did it say about her that her attention was split between the men? Edward's statements held truth. Her husband had made no secret of the fact that he suffered nightmares or day terrors or that his mind wasn't quite right beyond the amnesia. But how could she abandon him when he needed her? On the other hand, Starkington was younger, more virile, and from all accounts, he cared about her, wanted to wed her. It would be folly to think he couldn't look after her better than her husband could.

Where did her moral responsibility lie? Which path was the correct one?

While she'd been lost in thought, Edward had closed the distance, easily trapping her between his body and the edge of her desk. By the time she focused on him, he'd cupped her cheek, urged her head up until their gazes connected.

"I love you, Vivian, and I love you now. I am here now. Surely that means something, is more important than something you might find with him." Then he claimed her lips with his, went so far as to press his free hand to the small of her back and urge her against his chest. Just a month ago, that type of kiss would have swept her away, and she would have been all too enthusiastic about returning the embrace.

Yet…

"No!" Planting her palms against his chest, she gave him a forceful shove backward. "Stop that. I meant what I told you the last time. Yes, we'd had feelings for each other, and I'm sorry for that. I should never have accepted your suit when there had been no proof Evan was dead." She wiped the moisture away from her mouth with the back of her hand as she held his gaze. "My allegiance is to my husband until such time that we agree to part. Please understand."

Before Edward had a chance to respond, Evan strode into the morning room with the butler hard on his heels.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Anger flashed in his brown eyes, and in that moment, he was every inch the earl she had married eleven years ago. Then his attention landed on Edward. "Have you assaulted my wife?"

"It isn't assault if she returns my feelings." He approached her, dared to snake an arm around her waist. "For over a year, I have courted Vivian. We were on the cusp of becoming engaged, but you ruined it by stumbling back to Town as half a man, a stranger to her and fairly keeping her a prisoner due to some damned legality."

Oh, dear. Vivian sprang away from him. "Edward, stop aggravating him. It's not—"

"Stay away from my wife!" With that roar, Evan sprang at the other man. "What is between us is not your business, and I refuse to have you spend one more moment in my house without my permission."

Tension brewed between them as both men glared at each other.

"Why should she stay here when you aren't the man she married all those years ago? It's naught but scandal and sin what you're allowing here, and you should be ashamed of yourself, Baselton." Edward shoved at Evan's chest. "You should get out, my friend, for you aren't her husband any longer."

"Do not think to make demands of me, Starkington." To Evan's credit, he refused to back down in the face of the younger man's claims. Once again, he lunged, but Edward darted out of the way and out of reach. "It matters not the state of our marriage; that is our affair, not yours, but Vivian is not being held a prisoner." He pounced upon something on her desktop then came away brandishing a gold letter opener whose blade winked in the afternoon sun that streamed through the window.

"Evan, please calm yourself." As her heartbeat pounded out a frantic rhythm, Vivian bounced her gaze between the two angry earls. "Edward was just leaving. He has already been told that my allegiance is to you, and that his relationship with me is over."

Anger lined his face. "He should never have assumed you were free to begin with." When he made to stab Edward with the letter opener, Vivian panicked.

"Enough!" She darted between the men, and the blade tip of the letter opener glanced across the back of her hand when she tried to separate them. Pain skittered through her hand, and she hissed with surprise as a thin stripe of blood welled from the cut. "This is unbecoming the both of you."

Easily, Evan went around her to continue after Edward. "Davis, please show Lord Starkington out of this house. Under no circumstances is he to be allowed back in." Then he shifted his gaze to Edward. "If you don't leave now, I will haul you out by your damned collar." He brandished the blade. "If I find you here with my wife again, you can be assured our next meeting won't end with mere words."

"At once, Your Lordship." As the butler came further into the room, he glared at Edward. "If you will follow me, Your Lordship?"

"I am well aware of where the door is." With lightning in his eyes, Edward leveled a glance on Evan before resting a softer gaze on her. "This is not over, and you know it."

Vivian trembled from reaction, for she'd never been fought over, and seeing the two men do so had provoked a primal thrill deep inside her. The way he'd shown a bit of possession had ignited the embers of desire into an inferno. As soon as Edward exited the room with the butler, she rounded on her husband. "Was that strictly necessary? You showed yourself for an arse in front of a man who will think nothing of destroying your reputation in public."

"Do you think I give a fig for that?" He shook his head, glanced at the golden letter opener, then tossed it away in disgust. It landed on the carpet with a muffled thud. "A reputation can be built or destroyed merely by gossip. The mettle of a man is determined by his worth and how he treats his friends and the people he cares for." The closer he came to her, the more he closed the distance between them, the more her heartbeat thudded, for he was magnificent in his aggravation. "For God's sake, Vivy, please promise me that you will stop having your lover over while we are trying to work on our marriage. My patience for this is growing thin."

"You knew he'd been here before?"

"Of course. I'm not quite the nodcock you apparently believe. Davis tells me everything." The slight scab on the top of his left ear reminded her that he'd been in danger not long ago, and it had nothing to do with his time in the war.

A stab of annoyance went through her chest. "None of this has been my fault. I've told Edward time and again not to call, told him that we are over, that I am married to you, but he won't take no for an answer."

Pleasure battled with anger in his eyes and expression. "I swear I'll kill him the next time he dares show his face in this house." Ever closer he came, and when he scooped up her hand, he met her gaze. "You are mine, and I have no intention of letting you go unless we both determine we are no longer suited and there is no possibility of cultivating love in our union any longer."

Dear God, he is perfectly lovely just now.

Her hand trembled in his hold. "You never cared so much for that in the past."

"Perhaps I'm only learning how wonderful it is to have someone waiting for me after everything." His Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow. "I have hope that you will still wait for me at the end of the mess I'm currently in, and that sort of caring leaves me speechless with awe." When he lifted her hand, no doubt to press a kiss to it, his eyes rounded as he looked at the line of blood from the letter opener's blade. "I did that, caused you this injury."

"Don't worry yourself. It is naught but a scratch."

"I hurt you, gave you pain." Shock lined his face while disgust threaded through his voice. "I'm a surgeon; I'm supposed to heal not harm."

"Evan, are you quite well?" As she stared, he froze where he stood. Seconds later, sweat formed on his brow and upper lip. His pupils dilated until the irises were nearly swallowed up, and his breathing became labored and heavy. "Evan?" Quickly, she pulled her hand from his as his grip tightened then waved it in front of his face. His eyes didn't flicker or follow her movements. "Evan, please say something." Panic bubbled in her chest, for though his eyes were open, she doubted that he saw or even heard her.

"They're coming again," he said in a whisper as he darted his gaze about the room. "There is nowhere to hide." Suddenly, he shoved her behind him. "Get the younger men to safety! Make certain they don't meet this wave."

Clearly, he was trapped in a nightmare, and it terrified her. "Davis!" What should she do? "Davis, help!"

Then her husband stumbled backward with a hand to his chest. "I've been hit! Close the gap! Don't let the French breach the line!" He reeled into her, his weight heavy as he apparently went into a faint.

"Evan!" This problem was beyond Vivian's ken, but she clutched him to her chest even as her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. "Oh, dear heavens, what do I do?" The sound of running feet reached her ears, and she nearly sobbed with relief when the butler pelted into the room. "Thank goodness. Davis, please help me get the earl onto the sofa. He's stuck in a nightmare, and I cannot rouse him from it."

"Let's see what we can do." As Davis joined her, he grunted as he hoisted Evan to his feet. "Come, my lord. The sofa will be much more comfortable." With a look at her, the butler got a shoulder under Evan's arm and half-pushed half-pulled him over to the sofa at the other side of the room.

"I'm a damned surgeon, soldier. I need to be out on that field!"

"Not if you are suffering an injury too, my lord." Davis dropped him onto the sofa where the earl sprawled on the furniture with one leg stretched out on the cushions and the other boot planted on the floor.

"Evan, can you hear me?" Vivian kneeled at the side of the sofa and laid a hand on his arm. "Please tell me you are well."

"Leave off, private. Let me up. I'll be needed on the field." When he attempted to rise, she pushed him back down and kept her hand on his chest.

"You are not in the military any longer." When he didn't appear to hear her and tried once more to rise, she shifted position, drew back her hand and slapped his cheek. "Forgive me but I need to wrench you out of this nightmare."

The butler frowned. "It doesn't appear to have worked, my lady."

"I know." Another wave of hot panic rose in her chest. For the first time since Evan had come home did the reality of his situation impress upon her. This was his life—their life. This is what they would either need to overcome or find a way to exist with if they ever hoped to continue in their marriage, and it shook her to her soul. "Davis, please run to the Rogue's Arcade immediately. Ask for either the Duke of Edenthorpe or Strathfield. If they are not there, any of the other rogues will do, but I cannot manage His Lordship on my own."

And it fairly broke her heart.

"I shall be as quick as I can, my lady." Davis ran from the room to do her bidding.

"Evan, please come back," she whispered as she grabbed his hand. The cut with the thin line of blood was all but forgotten. "I need you as much as you need me."

He only stared at her with a frown and taut muscles.

Fifteen minutes later, Davis returned with Baron Twinsfield.

"Good afternoon, Your Ladyship," the other man murmured as he approached. "Mr. Davis told me what happened."

"It's quite frightening." With a glance at her husband, Vivian rose to her feet and ignored the fact that her legs shook. "I don't know what to do. He won't come out of the nightmare." It was probably best she didn't mention the bruises on his face, but she wondered if they were the product of the last attack on the club members.

The baron nodded. "When day terrors fall over a man, the worst thing anyone can do is try and wrench them out." He took her hand and squeezed her fingers, frowning at the wound on the back. "Let me sit with him, speak to him for a few moments. We have all seen this. Hell, some of us still battle with the phenomena."

"Thank you." Somewhat curious, she stood well back from the sofa, and softly told the butler to have the staff prepare the earl's bedchamber for him to retire early. As she watched with a tight chest and pain around her heart, the baron talked in a low voice to her husband.

"Listen to the sound of my voice, Baselford. Think about where you are. Feel the evidence with your hands. You are no longer in the war, and the battlefields have been left far behind in your past." The sing-song quality of Twinsfield's words was a tad soothing even to her. "You are safe; we are all safe. No longer are you required to shoot your fellow man or kill them where they stand. You protect them with your medical knowledge."

She bit down on her bottom lip, for Evan no longer remembered even that. As the baron continued to speak quietly to the earl, she watched as tears welled in her eyes to roll down her cheeks. Would her husband always be vulnerable to his nightmares? Was there no escape?

Eventually, and with a gasp, Evan came back to the present. He flailed about, disoriented, but Twinsfield had a knack for keeping him subdued while speaking in a soothing manner.

"All is well. Lady Baselford is here. There is no danger. Everyone is safe." With slow movements, he helped Evan to his feet. "I'm going to escort you upstairs to your bedroom now. You'll be more comfortable there, and perhaps you might feel well enough for tea."

"Tea sounds lovely." Exhaustion clung to his voice as he shuffled across the room while leaning heavily on the baron's arm. He was much like a tired old man, defeated by life.

"Oh, Evan," she couldn't help but whisper as she trailed after the men. The enormity of the life ahead of her pressed in and stole her ability to breathe properly, and one of the most frustrating aspects of this was that she didn't understand how to help him.

It took very little time for Twinsfield to see Evan into his suite. He even helped him out of the restricting clothing, and once the earl was clad only in breeches and his fine lawn shirt, the baron saw him settled in the large four-poster bed.

"Remember, my friend, you are safe. We are all safe." He dropped a hand to Evan's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Your wife is standing near the door. I'm going to talk with her for a bit and then see to your tea."

"Thank you." Though Evan was pale, he gave the baron a tired grin. "I owe you much, I'm afraid." Then he stared at his counterpane, frowning at the paisley swirls in colors of navy and maroon.

"You owe me nothing; the rogues don't leave anyone behind." Then Twinsfield joined her at the door. "Your husband will be all right after he sleeps."

"Since I don't have the experience that you do, I will take your word for it." She brushed at the moisture on her cheeks. "I'm glad you came so quickly, but I'm afraid I'm rather lost at what to do next." In a low voice, she explained about the events that had led to the incident.

"It wasn't your fault, Your Ladyship." When he briefly touched her arm, she took comfort in the gesture. "War harms men in many ways. In some instances, ways that are never healed. In the case of your husband, it's made more complicated by the fact he cannot remember the past that is haunting him."

"Will the nightmares ever stop?"

"I couldn't say. The mind is a beautiful and terrible place, and unfortunately, it is different from man to man." For a few seconds, he glanced at Evan then rested his attention back on her. "Men like him, like us, require special handling and patience. It deeply hurts us that we're not whole or considered strong men any longer." The shadows in his eyes testified to a past and his own demons. "Everyone wants us to fight for king and crown, but no one wants to be there for us in the aftermath. They all wish for heroes until those heroes return broken and helpless."

"Then he will always be broken." A sob entered her voice, and she pressed the fingers of one hand to her lips to prevent crumpling beneath the emotions that raged beneath the surface.

"Perhaps." Twinsfield heaved out a breath. "I know it's difficult for you, but believe me, having someone by our sides through thick and thin makes such a difference."

Another round of tears fell to her cheeks. "I am trying, but it feels like everything is falling apart. He will never be the man I married, and it seems the man he will become won't ever have the chance to escape from the horrors he cannot properly remember." Essentially, he was trapped, and she couldn't help him. "I have never felt so ineffectual."

"I understand. Please don't give up on him, my lady. He needs you more than he'll ever say." With a glance at Evan, who had closed his eyes, Twinsfield took her into his arms and hugged her. There was nothing sexual or romantic in the gesture; she merely took comfort in the support from a brother-in-arms. When he released her, he said, "Even this new form of him needs you. Sometimes the women in our lives are the only thing standing between us and the darkness. Don't discount that strength or that position or how important you are to him."

"What if that isn't enough?" It was futile to wipe away the tears, for they continued to well.

"It will be, or…"

"Or?" The word had to be forced from her tight throat.

"Or he will find some way to separate himself from this reality and this life." The baron's eyes reflected sadness. "I lost a friend that way many years ago. He considered himself a burden, couldn't contemplate living with the horrors and his scars. You see, he'd lost an arm."

"You think Evan might kill himself? Already, I keep the laudanum from him at his own request, but I cannot be here with him all the time."

"If this isn't his crossroad point, you will soon arrive there. It will be the time when only he can decide what he wishes to do." He gave her an encouraging grin. "Don't despair, Your Ladyship. You are both strong, and unless I miss my guess, you both still harbor feelings for each other." When she sniffled, he gave her his handkerchief. "He might not ever be the man you used to love, but the man he is now is no slouch. He just needs someone to believe in him so he can do what must be done. The hope is that once he feels comfortable in a routine and finds purpose again, his mind might stop dredging up the nightmares."

"Because he'll have new, happier memories to fill in the blank spaces," she added in a hushed voice.

"That is a theory, but know this. The men of the Rogue's Arcade are all broken in some way, but not one of us is useless. We've gone on to live decent and rewarding lives, so please retain that hope."

"Thank you." On impulse, Vivian rose onto her toes and bussed his cheek. "I am here for as long as he has need of me. I won't fail him again."

They talked quietly for another few minutes until Davis brought up a tea tray, then the baron left and Vivian sat with her husband in silence as he took his tea and then eventually fell asleep with a jam tart still balanced on one knee.