Chapter Eighteen

A few days before they were planning to leave London, Elena found herself sitting at the piano once more. She tried to remember the lessons she'd had with David, but all she could recall was a searing heat, and somehow ending up on top of the piano. They could never tell Irene about what they had done on her sacred piano, Elena decided, or they would all surely die of mortification. Irene was extremely fond of the Broadwood, and Elena had to admit, it was a beautiful instrument, though she did not have many to compare it to.

Sitting at the piano, she could feel Goliath looking at her while he sat on the floor with one eye open. Sometimes, he reminded her of herself, always looking out for danger, for that moment everything would slip away. She had thought he might be a good companion for David, with their wounded legs and bodies, but she was beginning to wonder if he might be even more of a kindred spirit to her.

Giving him a small nod, she set her fingers on the keys. She pictured in her mind what David had her do before, the feel of her hands on his…and she pressed down. Goliath howled. Like before, she was reminded of the small but powerful difference between noise and music. Perhaps she could convince Irene to take her on as a student if the school got off the ground. When it got off the ground, she corrected herself.

"Are you trying to teach Goliath how to sing?"

She looked up to see her husband casually leaning against the doorframe and felt the heat of the memories of the room pulse in her veins. She ought to be embarrassed by her horrible playing, but he knew the extent of her musical abilities. He was supposed to be her teacher, after all.

"I thought my teacher would help me develop my skills, but alas…" she trailed off dramatically.

He walked over and sat on the bench beside her, setting down his cane and pausing to scratch Goliath on the head. "I suppose we did get rather…distracted in our previous lessons. But I have to admit, I live for those kinds of distractions."

Elena bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I do, too, Husband. But I would still like to learn to play."

"I think I have a solution. What if, when I successfully teach you a song, we reward ourselves with a distraction?"

"So if I can play one song, then we will reward ourselves?"

He nodded, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

"But what about Goliath?"

David leaned back to look at the dog. "He's quite the prude. He'll give us our privacy."

She shook her head, but the anticipation of both of their previous distractions and the excitement of learning a song coursed through her, and she felt young and free in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

As he started to put his hands on the keys, she put a hand on his arm. His small shiver only increased the heat in her own blood. "I want to try it on my own this time. Not with my hands on top of yours. Not that I don't enjoy my hands on yours," she added, "but Irene says that is not the best way to learn."

"She is correct. That's the way I learned, but it was very informal. A proper teacher would not have you do that. But I happen to be very improper. And I wanted an excuse to touch you." He ran a finger down her arm, and she tried to ignore the gooseflesh erupting along her skin.

"Husband, remember, our reward."

"Right, right, yes." He took a deep breath, then cracked his neck from side to side, flexing his fingers. "I'm going to teach you a song my mother made up when I was a child. First, I'm going to play it on the lower notes. I will show you where to put your hands, but I want you to copy my movements. Again, this may not be proper, but unlike Irene, I never learned from a teacher other than my mother."

He played a series of notes several times through, making sure Elena was familiar with the melody, which was short and airy. He then positioned her hands on the keys and had her imitate his movements on higher notes. It was difficult at first, and she made many mistakes. When she first began, Goliath seemed so indignant at the affront to his ears, which, in fairness, were large and upright, that he left the room. However, David was a patient and encouraging teacher, and soon, Elena was able to master the simple melody.

"I am going to play a different part on the lower notes. Try to keep playing what you learned, and don't focus too much on what I am doing. It will make sense eventually."

She kept playing, and she noticed him playing something different than her. At first, it threw her off, and she was afraid she would make a mistake, but she pushed through, and all of a sudden, what she was playing felt entwined and supported by his notes. She recognized with a burst of delight that they were making music. And then that delight morphed into a deeper realization: they were building something together based on trust, passion, and something more. They played the song several times through, then simultaneously, their hands stopped, both of them panting. They turned to look at each other, and Elena was struck as she always was by how their scarring was a strange mirror of the other as they each reached up at the same time to caress the other's scarred skin. Then, somehow, both of their arms went around each other, and they came together in a frenzy of joy and eagerness.

After some time, David rose and adjusted the latch on the French doors adjoining the drawing room. Then, she found him kneeling in front of her as she sat on the bench, her skirts pushed up and his hand roving up her legs, peeling down her stockings and kissing each inch of revealed flesh. Elena reclined on her elbows, hitting the keys, which clanked loudly. He pulled the tapes of her drawers and eased them down her legs, again kissing all the skin newly exposed to the light and air. She shuddered as she felt him kiss his way up her thigh and began to arch her body in anticipation. He reached her sex and took a deep, luxurious lick, then looked up at her. As she felt a pulse of sensation throughout her body, she gave him a small nod, dipping her head back to enjoy his dedicated ministrations as she continued to rest on the keys. Her elbows began to ache, but the pain was worth it for this beautiful pleasure. She had never done this before that first night together. She wondered if she ought to feel ashamed, but instead, as all that energy that had welled up inside her body centered at the apex of her thighs, she just felt release. He licked longer and deeper, finding a steady rhythm, and she felt herself closer and closer to a peak as a wave of feeling and intensity crashed over her entire body. In her mind, she thought, crescendo, and cried out, though she tried to cover her mouth with her hand.

As she recovered herself, David pulled her to the nearby settee and looked questioningly at her as he unbuttoned the placket of his trousers.

"Yes?"

"Yes, darling."

He entered her with great force, rocking into her, and she met him, this time chasing that climax, that crescendo, moving her body in harmony with his. They joined together until they both cried out, and he quickly left her, covering himself with his hand. She felt his absence but understood why he did what he did. Once more he was trying to respect her wishes, her future. After he had wiped his hand with a handkerchief and sat next to her, he adjusted her skirts and petticoats to cover her thighs, but she sat so that her legs below her knee were still bare, dangling off the side of the settee.

"That was the most pleasant distraction I have ever had in a music room," he said, sounding a bit breathless.

"Likewise." Was all she had the power to say. She was trying to catch her breath when a thought struck her. "Husband?"

"Wife?"

"Do you have a music room at your estate?"

"With Irene as my sister? She would disown me if I did not have a music room."

"With a piano?"

"Naturally."

She let out a breath. She was looking forward to going to the country, but she felt a small seed of fear and doubt in her heart that she couldn't quite extinguish. Knowing there was a piano eased some of that fear.

"Good. Then I can learn more songs."

"And we can reward ourselves with future distractions."

She gave him a long, slow smile.

"Naturally."

Chapter Nineteen

By the day before they were to leave, Elena's seed of fear had sprouted into a whole garden of doubt. That morning, she woke with the dawn and sat at her vanity, staring out the window at her view of London. She knew it was a limited view, but with its busy, crowded streets, this city had been hers for the past three years. She knew David was correct that they ought to leave, but she could not rid herself of the worry in her chest.

"Elena?"

She looked back at her husband, whose eyes were still closed but who was reaching his arm for her on the bed.

"I'm over here. I just rose to watch the sunrise."

"We're not farmers, Elena," he grumbled, "we don't rise with the sun. Especially during the Season."

She walked back to the bed, pausing to stand above him and stroke his hair gently as he seemed to return to sleep. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back into bed, wrapping his arms around her in a tight cage.

"Well done, my lord, you had me fooled."

"The old eyes closed trick. Works like a charm."

She clicked her tongue but still nestled into his arms, willing the warmth to help rid her of her fears. David rolled her to her back, loosened his grip, and stayed on his side. His green eyes searched her face as his playful expression shifted toward something more serious.

"Why did you rise so early, my love?"

She weighed telling him, but she shook her head. "You will think it is silly."

He continued to search her eyes, waiting for her to go on. She realized she did want to tell him, but she did not know quite what to say. She stroked his hair as she weighed her options. "This, for the most part, has been my home these last few years."

David blew out a long breath. "This has been the only stable home you have known since you saw your childhood home ransacked and abandoned."

"I suppose, yes." It did feel good to get off her chest, and she went on quickly. "I know that leaving right now is the best course of action, but I cannot help but be sad to leave. And a little afraid of your estate."

He pushed himself up on an elbow, his gaze raking her over with concern. "You're afraid of the estate?

"Not of the estate itself, but of how people will see me, view me. I hear some of what the worst in the ton say about me, how some gentlemen treat me."

"Not since—"

"No, not since you returned. Truly, it did not bother me very much. But, in a new place, in your home? I don't want to embarrass you or Irene."

David entwined his hand with Elena's and brought their joined hands between them as she shifted to her side.

"I cannot promise that everything will be perfect, and I understand your fears, Elena. I do. However, most people around the estate like our family but consider me a bit eccentric."

"You? Don't most gentlemen marry strange foreign women or have their aunts run a business because they are skilled at that work?"

He acknowledged her sarcasm with a roll of his eyes and went on. "I do not think they will be all that surprised that I brought a foreign woman back from the war. And once they get to know you, they will all fall in love with you, and Goliath will be terribly jealous."

"I think you are optimistic."

"I have been told it is one of my more annoying qualities."

"That is true. Even outside Balaclava, there were only a few days where I saw true darkness upon you."

"Yes, thank goodness I had you to pull me out of that."

She looked away, humbled by his admission. They sat like that in silence for a moment when David asked, "Elena, did I do you a disservice when I married you?"

"What?" She was so surprised by his question that she sat up and looked down at him. "What moved you to ask that?

David half sat up, leaning back against the headboard. "I can't quite say." He shrugged. "But it has been gnawing at me since the first night we went out in Society. I had not realized what I had invited you into. I wonder if I had, well, taken you out of the frying pan and into another fire. It means—"

"Yes, I have heard that one. Sophie says it a great deal when Parliament passes a new law she disagrees with." She was suddenly afraid he was asking something else. "Do you…regret marrying me? I know now how cruel the ton can be. I do not wish to bring shame to your family or business." She waited with bated breath, afraid the answer was yes.

"What?" He froze as if horrified by her question. "Absolutely not. It was the best decision I've made in this life. I suppose I'm just concerned you might regret your decision. I know the ton. I grew up around Society. I didn't realize in the moment that you would have to learn entirely new rules, that some would never accept you. I thought I was doing a noble thing, doing something that would protect you, but I hadn't thought it all the way through, what it would mean for you. And perhaps, selfishly, I wanted a reason to keep you in my life." As she began to respond, he held up a hand.

"But I am most afraid that you might have found your family. That you would have been more likely to have located them after the war had you stayed."

Elena turned her body so that she looked down at him more fully. She could not think how they had gotten here. She had never thought about the choice to marry him since she had made the decision. Once he had suggested it and convinced her, it seemed the only course of action. She had not considered what would have happened if he had not asked or if she had said no.

"My lord," she began, holding up her hand as he started to correct her. "Husband." He looked up, his green gaze catching hers. "I have never regretted my choice, truly. I am very glad I married you. Very grateful."

"But I don't want you to be grateful, Elena. I'm the lucky one."

"Then let us say that we are both lucky." She took his hand, which still bore some of the scars of war.

"You don't speak of it very often."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"The war."

"I know." He swallowed. "I cannot tell if always looking forward is a virtue or a sin."

"Possibly neither." She gave him a small smile.

"Mayhap, you are correct." He sighed. "I think about it, but not all the time. Most of the time, I can keep that door shut. I'm afraid that if I always keep it open, I'll remember all those who did not survive. I'll think about the men I killed and their families living without them. I'm afraid if I look too deeply, I'll never come back."

She understood what he was saying, even though she hadn't fought in a war. There were some days and moments it became impossible to look too deeply into. The what-ifs could drive a person in circles in their mind.

"Would you like to go back someday? To see their final resting place, to say goodbye to your fellow soldiers?" She stroked his knuckles. She hadn't realized it before, but she had come to love his hands, not just for the wicked things they did to her body but for their strength and roughness. She loved the feel and texture of them. They were rough for gentleman's hands, but she supposed that war had likely changed his body for the rest of his life. And perhaps his soul a bit too.

"I suppose I might." They sat again in silence as she stroked his hands, the sounds of the city beginning to wake up around them.

"Would you like to go back to look for them? Your family?" he asked softly.

"We could do that? You would bring me?"

"Of course I would bring you. Who else knows their way around or speaks the language?"

Elena shifted slightly and studied him. He was smiling, but a tinge of sadness shaded his eyes as if there was deep pain behind his words that he did not want her to see. At that moment, she truly did believe that he loved her. Not in the selfish, possessive way that Anatole had but in a steady, giving way, where he would always put her happiness above his own. She felt like a giant weight had landed on her chest, shattering most of the ice around her heart.

"You would do that for me?" was all she was able to say.

"Anything." He gave her a small, rueful smile. "Let me see what the Foreign Office says, and we can decide. I'm only sorry we didn't go look sooner, but…"

"No, you had to take care of yourself. I understand why you needed to do that." She turned away again, feeling unsteady at how this realization affected her. "You do not speak of that very often either."

"I don't speak of the clinic because it was monotonous." He lay back, and some of the rigidity seemed to leave as his voice took on a more casual tone. "Again, if I thought too much about my situation, I might have gone mad. But I also came to accept myself over time, I suppose. I know my body will never be the same, but I am…at peace with that. Sometimes, I think I would have been all right if I had never recovered my ability to walk. For so long, I thought I couldn't be a man if I couldn't use my body below the waist, but I could have used a chair. I knew several men in Bern who did. I have means, and I have you and Sophie and Irene. I'm not saying it would have been easy, but I lost years with the three of you I could have had back if I had accepted myself as I was. The experience helped me see that the world is designed for people who can walk. I had to endure excruciating exercises and pain just to do it again. And what if I had been a working man? I wouldn't have had that luxury of money and time." He paused and let out a sigh. "My legs will have weakness, likely for the rest of my life, and, again, I am at peace with that. It doesn't make me any less. It doesn't mean I'm not a man. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, I think it does. I pity any man who mistakes your strength for weakness, for I think you are the very best man I know." As she said the words, she knew them for truth. The revelation rocked her, and she felt further shaken by how long it had taken her to realize this. She wanted to tell him more, to communicate to him how important what they shared was to her.

"I would have supported you if you had lived in a chair. I would still have wanted to be your…" She trailed off as her cheeks heated.

"My lover?" He glanced over at her with both heat and laughter in his eyes.

She nodded shyly. "I know it is not the same, but I used to be much heavier. Before the war, before I knew hunger. It was fashionable in the village where I grew up. But I wonder if you would have desired to be my lover quite as much." The word lover almost stuck in her throat again, but she felt it needed to be said.

He turned his head to regard her, and she felt his gaze run along her entire body. Even though she wore a nightgown, she felt bare, as if he could see through the plain cotton.

"My darling wife, I love your body at any size. There is nothing in the universe that can change that."

As she looked at him, she felt that weight on her chest pinch, and the pain was both beautiful and terrifying. Feeling undone, she quickly changed the subject.

"Did you come to this acceptance of yourself at the clinic or since you have been back?"

"Mostly since I have been back, even though I often find I am trying to make myself fit into this world like pushing a square peg through a round hole. But I also realized all of you would support me however I am." He swallowed. "No, I just gave myself small tasks at the clinic to keep from boredom and despair. I had time to appreciate all that Mrs. Raeburn did outside of Balaclava. I had to remind myself how lucky I was to end up there, across from the hotel. So many died in the hospital barracks in Scutari. If I hadn't lost my ability to walk, I would have likely been sent there instead of waiting for transport to Portsmouth."

"I heard about the barracks in Scutari. We were lucky we did not have as many outbreaks."

"Lucky, but I also think Mrs. Raeburn has knowledge and skill that others do not have."

"She does, doesn't she? Too bad she isn't appreciated by most men of science."

They sat in silence for a moment as they thought about that, and she lay back alongside him.

"So, Elena, just to hear you say it, I did not ruin your life?" Even though he asked the question casually, she had heard a grain of doubt in his voice. Apparently, even this tall, handsome lord needed assurances sometimes.

"No, Husband, no. While I have sorrow and am still working on asking myself the right question, as you suggested, I have had opportunities I would never have had. I still love my village and the life I had there, but this life is different. If I had never married you, I never would have gone to the opera. And you would never have translated it for me, and we wouldn't—"

"Be here now," he finished for her, turning his head toward hers. Even if she had to leave him, she would never forget that moment, that crescendo, even when she was old and gray. But right now, the thought of growing old and gray without the man beside her left a hollowness in her chest.

"You have enriched my life, Husband. Being married to you is a privilege. Friendly as you are, I feel you do not let many people truly know you."

"I suppose I do not." Turning away from him, she wrapped his arm around herself, feeling his rough hands against her skin.

"But it's not enough for you to stay," he said quietly.

Elena loosened her grip on his hand as she felt some of the shattered ice begin to reconstitute as she tried to erect some of her old defenses. How could she leave the best man she knew? But how could she not return if there was word of her family? That was all she had longed for all these years, yet that dream was becoming more distant lately. She did not know what to hope for anymore. All she knew was that hope was exhausting.

She felt his hand tighten in hers and then relax as he let the moment pass, and his voice was much lighter as he spoke. "What a clod I am, here I was meaning to give you comfort, and here you are comforting me."

"I think we are comforting each other, Husband."

"I supposed that's to be tolerated." His hand began to trace the outline of her breast, then slowly crept to the top of her nightgown.

"Well, Wife, how do you feel about marital duties since we have several hours until the rest of the world is awake?"

"Marital duties make them sound like a chore." He slid the nightgown off her shoulder, revealing her left breast.

"Oh, they may be considered a duty, but for us, they are all pleasure," he said, cupping her breast, and for a few more hours, they were engaged in much more than duty.

****

Later that day, Sophie was preparing to depart to stay with a recently widowed friend in town. As they bid her goodbye, David overheard her speaking to Irene. "Now I want to see improvements on our initial drafting. I know you have it in you to think this through to the fullest. Send me your revisions, and I will look them over."

"Yes, Aunt Sophie."

"We may build you a school yet."

"We won't need to build it if we purchase a property."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Make a plan first."

"Yes, Aunt Sophie," Irene responded dutifully.

"And you, Nephew? What of you? Will you take your seat in the House of Lords?"

"Next session, most likely."

"You better. I don't much like the direction this country is going in."

"Yes, Aunt Sophie," he said, parroting Irene.

"I will be in touch about the business."

"You have handled it marvelously since I have been gone." During her visit, they discussed how they would manage things in the future. Now that David had returned, he wanted to take a more active role but did not want to take anything away from Sophie, who had a keen mind for business.

"How do you like your new secretary?" Elena asked.

"Oh yes, I've been meaning to thank you, Elena. She has been a find. Writes wonderfully in Italian. Fiery little thing, too, not afraid to stand up for herself. I don't mind having her around." Which was very high praise coming from Sophie.

"And her past, it does not bother you?"

"Why should it? It's not her fault this world is run by terrible men."

Elena, who was usually so restrained, threw her arms around Sophie as if overcome by the moment. Sophie, rarely caught off guard, looked stunned, then gingerly patted Elena's back.

"Oh, I do love you, Aunt Sophie," Elena exclaimed.

At that utterance, David and Irene were the ones caught off guard, and he saw his own shock mirrored on his sister's face. He had never heard Elena express love for anyone in the present tense before, not even Goliath. Even though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, the sentiment still blossomed traitorously in his heart, and as Irene looked over at him in surprise, he gave a bemused shrug. He could only trust that this new part of their marriage, of going to the estate, would help open up her heart more fully. David had returned to the Foreign Office the previous day to learn there was no news of Anatole. However, the man he spoke to mentioned that he had heard of several families who had fled Dobruja and stayed in Constantinople after the invasion but had no names or contacts. He had promised to write immediately if he heard anything, and David believed him, the solemn civil servant he seemed to be.

He was torn on whether to tell Elena—even though they had agreed to honesty, he sensed every time she got her hopes up just to be dashed again that something died a little inside her, and he hated to cause her that kind of pain. He wondered if his hesitation in telling her was also tied to his belief that she would fall in love with the estate and never want to leave, but he swallowed that down. He would tell her if he heard more, he resolved.

Elena pulled back from Sophie, looking a little embarrassed. Sophie caught her hand, again, not what one would expect from his aunt.

"Elena? Are you afraid to leave?"

Elena looked down.

"Don't let the estate intimidate you, girl. You've been to battlefields, for goodness sake! The English countryside should not scare you."

That was not precisely true, as the hotel and hospital had been away from the battlefield, but David knew better than to correct his aunt in this moment.

"My sister had the same look on her face over thirty years ago when she left to become the previous Lady Grayston, the title you now hold. And I'll tell you what I said to her then: Hold your head high when you walk through that door, and fear no man."

Elena, whose gaze was riveted on Sophie, nodded slowly, lifting her head as if to stick out her chin.

"There you are." Sophie reached to tap her under the chin but withdrew her hand and paused, a fleeting sadness crossing her face. "I don't think my sister could have ever imagined you, my girl, but she would have liked you. I know it in my bones. "

He watched Elena swallow and offer a small smile. As he glanced to his side, he saw Irene's eyes were full of tears, and his own felt in danger of going the same way. He gripped his cane and made his way closer to the two women.

"Well, I ought to be off. One more thing, Elena." Sophie turned back.

"Anything."

Sophie looked down, and he saw something he had never seen in his entire life. Was she blushing? David looked away, stunned and a little embarrassed, as if he had seen something he shouldn't.

"Could you send me Mrs. Raeburn's address? I should like to start a correspondence with her."

Elena blinked and swiftly recovered. "Of course, Aunt Sophie."

"You will give Goliath my best."

"We can send for him," David began, but Sophie cut him off.

"No, you know how I hate drawn-out goodbyes. I will come to the estate when I can. I can see him then."

"Yes, Aunt Sophie."

And with that, she turned with the same determination and economy with which she did everything else and walked out of the door with a swift nod to Fields. Just as she left, Goliath came bounding in.

"You just missed her, old boy," David told the dog, who cocked his head as if sensing a change but unsure of what it was.

"How do you think Goliath will take to the estate?" Irene asked as they began to walk back toward the drawing room.

"Lots of grass and land, all the rabbits to chase, what's not to like?"

"Yes, but London is likely the only home he's never known," Elena interjected.

"He is strong and good at surviving. I am sure he will adapt and find himself quite at home."

Irene had gone on, but Elena lingered, looking unconvinced. He took her hand and drew it to his lips, trying to convey all the hopefulness this new journey gave him. She sighed and gave a small smile, and they both joined Irene and Goliath.