Chapter Six

Another ball, another crush. Elena was always a bit overwhelmed by the large skirts on the gowns in fashion in London these days. And the corsets! She never wore such restrictive garments at home. But she must stop thinking of home right now. As she fanned herself, her eyes sought out Irene again. Irene had a full dance card, but as far as Elena could see, Irene looked like a waxen doll. She hardly smiled at her suitors, and when she did, it was a tepid, cold thing. Nothing like what she looked like at the hospital, or with her brother, or even the way she lit up when laughing with Elena. Elena felt a brief sting of guilt at how much Irene wanted to be a sister of her heart and how many barriers she had erected out of fear that Irene would replace her own sisters. Couldn't she make more room in her heart for Irene, who had so few family members as it was?

Elena accidentally bumped into her husband in her distraction, who caught her before they both fell. She looked up to apologize and saw the same concern for Irene written across his features. She also saw the same anxiety she had seen the last time they had been at a ball as he gripped his cane tightly.

"Husband, would you like to, as you say, get some air?" Following his gaze, she noted, "Irene will not feel better if we are over here worrying over her."

He nodded, his hand still gripped tightly to his cane, then offered her his arm as they made their way outside to a courtyard. She found a bench outside for them to sit quietly for a few moments before he spoke.

"Thank you," he rasped. "For noticing. I suppose I need—"

"I know." She hadn't realized she had set her hand on his again. This time, she didn't remove it. He looked to be in need of something, maybe comfort. He turned his palm over and gripped her hand tightly, glove to glove.

"You know, it should be quite a success that Irene has had a full dance card everywhere we go." He had put his casually light voice on, but Elena did not protest or delve deeper into his discomfort. She understood not wanting to talk about things that were too painful. "As my mother was in trade, and my father's family, our title is less than half a century old, our blood is not very blue."

"Blue?" she asked, puzzled by this turn in the conversation.

"Oh, it means some of the older families look down upon us."

"But what does that have to do with the color of blood? I have unfortunately seen your blood, and it is indeed very red." She felt a strange intimacy discussing the color of his blood, but the British truly said the strangest things.

"I feel I have a lifetime of explaining British turns of phrase to you, my dear. You ought to keep notes." She blanched slightly at the endearment but hoped he did not notice. "Peerage and nobility are often referred to by the quality of blood, in other words, how blue their blood is, meaning how old their family or title dates back. I don't know where the phrase comes from exactly, but you hear it here and there. I think it might have come from Spanish nobility…"

"But, no one's blood is special or different. I've seen many men's blood." He stared at her, his humor evaporating a little in the confession that she had seen the blood of many men. She often forgot that being at the officer's hotel and visiting hospitals, she had likely seen things many women would never have imagined.

She let the odd moment pass and went on. "And it all runs red. It just looks blue sometimes. But truly, no one's blood is any different color as far as I've seen. That's silly. In my homeland, we have a saying that essentially means we all have the same blood under our skin." That wasn't quite the expression, but she struggled to translate it into English.

"Yes, well, it's the British peerage, darling. It's not supposed to make sense," he drawled.

"So very peculiar." She shook her head. While she had intended to banter to take his mind off his reaction to the crowd, she truly did not understand much of the logic of the British aristocracy. But then, she supposed most societies, like hers, had unspoken rules and hierarchies. For the sake of future social interactions, she ought to write these things down.

"Truer words were never spoken." He lifted her hand, which she forgot he was still holding, and gently kissed her knuckles. That strange energy from before roared back and caused her heart to stumble slightly. But was that panic? Or something on top of the panic? Looking up at him, she recognized it did not matter. She had offered her hand and conversation in comfort, and now he was smiling, so her goal was complete. She tentatively smiled back. He paused momentarily as if he had forgotten what they had been talking about, then cleared his throat and continued.

"But as I said, at least half of them likely look down on us because the title is so recent. Before fifty years ago, we were merely merchant stock on my father's side. But I must be polite to everyone even if they are rude because we need their clubs and households to purchase our sherry."

They slipped into silence again. She noticed he was still holding her hand.

"May I ask you something?"

Elena cocked her head to the side and nodded slowly. Suddenly, his tone had turned serious, and she was curious as to why.

"The song you used to sing. What did it mean?"

She thought for a moment. Half the song did not translate into English words. It was merely soothing sounds to comfort children. "It was just a lullaby. Something we sang to children to get them to sleep at night."

She started to withdraw her hand as something heavy constricted her chest. Something she did not want to face at the moment, but he caught her hand.

"If it was for children, why did it sound so sad?"

"Because," she began, struggling for an answer when the truth hit her. "We try to tell children they are safe, that nothing will ever harm them. I think the sadness comes from knowing we cannot promise it. That it can all be torn away."

David looked into her eyes as if he could see why the weight had fallen on her chest at that moment, but he did not press. Still, his scrutiny made Elena feel uncomfortably vulnerable, so she quickly changed the subject.

"Irene." He loosened his hold on her hand. "I'll speak with her. "

"You noticed it too."

"I don't want her to feel like she needs to marry anyone. She's so young. I just wanted to give her a Season if that's what she desired. I wanted to be there for her in a way I haven't in the last few years. The way you have been. I don't know what we—she would have done without you."

"She loves the hospital. She loves to go with me. There, she looks determined, purposeful. Tonight, she just looked—"

"Empty," he finished for her. "You know, at first, I was worried about what she would see going to the hospital with you. She isn't like you. She's never seen…" He looked at her for a second, then shook his head. "Well, I suppose you had never seen war. War came to you, but you met the circumstance. I've never known anyone like you, Elena."

Elena felt caught, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze again, but also uncomfortable with his directness. Fortunately, he looked away and continued.

"But Irene, she grew up sheltered here. You know, when she first wrote to me of going with you, I almost wrote back forbidding her."

Elena raised her eyebrows. She realized that this only raised one eyebrow since the scar damaged the other, but she hoped this would have a more substantial effect.

"Yes, I know. I cannot forbid my sister anything. But then, she started to write to me of the things she saw and how grateful she was to see more of the world, to be useful, and I remembered how I felt when I enlisted. Why I felt that way."

"You did not want to be a fribble," Elena offered. She could see the corners of his mouth turn up as if fighting a smile.

"Something like that. But now I'm glad she has been visiting St. Helena's with you. I'm looking forward to seeing it myself. Getting to see Mrs. Raeburn again."

"Yes, I think Irene would like that."

There was a pause, and then—

"Irene," they both said at the same time.

"Great minds," David whispered under his breath, offering his arm after he reached for his cane.

****

As they made their way back inside, David caught sight of one of his oldest friends, Lord Michael Northram, and their old mentor, Lord Gaius Sprague, a Classics scholar. Though born of the aristocracy, Lord Gaius often appeared as if he had just stumbled out of his library with his slightly bent spectacles and very academic lack of sense of what was in fashion. Lord Gaius had been a godsend for him and his friends, as David had floundered when he lost both parents and inherited the title and family business.

Lord Gaius's daughter Antigone, or Annie, was Irene's dearest friend and also in her first Season, although from what David could see, she was enjoying her debut much more than Irene. Unlike her father, Annie was elegant and fashionable, but she was also sharp and thoughtful like him. David was grateful that Irene's dearest friend had a good head on her shoulders.

As he saw them, Michael's eyes briefly flashed with something like joy at seeing his old friend, but he covered this rare emotional reaction quickly.

"I was just telling Lord Gaius that they would allow anyone into the army these days," Michael drawled.

"Not you, surely."

"Heaven forbid I upstage the hero of the Crimea." Even though Michael's tone was biting, David knew there was no venom behind it.

"Lord Gaius." David bowed, ignoring Michael, who could go on and on. "Let me introduce my wife, Lady Grayston."

Elena curtsied as if she was born into the role. "My lord." The older man ignored the formality and took her hands in his own. Michael also bowed, but he had been introduced to her before.

"Yes." Lord Gaius peered over his spectacles. "How delightful to meet you. I have heard so much about you from my daughter, Annie."

"Antigone," Michael muttered, though Lord Gaius did not seem to hear him.

"She has told me about your wonderful work at the hospital. And to tend to wounded soldiers in the Crimea, how gallant, my lady."

Elena gave Lord Gaius her first real smile of the night, and all the golden radiance beamed off her. Not for the first time, David was reminded of icons or paintings he had seen of the Byzantine Empire, whose dark and tan figures were often surrounded by wide golden halos that gave them a luminescent aura. Even Michael blinked rapidly for a moment.

"I am not as brave as my husband, but I have my moments. Please, Lord Gaius, tell me more about your Round Table. My husband could not adequately explain." She took his arm and began to stroll away with the man, leaving Michael and David.

"Well, you see, it really is a misnomer. I began to meet with a small group of young men to discuss the ethics and philosophy of the Ancient Greeks, and somehow, one of them, your husband I think, wanted to talk about knights. My lady, you have no idea the challenges of being a student of the Classics in a Romantic era."

As they walked away, Elena cast a questioning look back at him. David shrugged and quirked his lips, delighted in the fast friendship between his wife and mentor.

"You shouldn't look quite so besotted. It is not fashionable."

David turned back to his old friend. He was all sharp edges, tall and lean, with sandy blond hair and brown eyes that were so dark they were impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling. He often wore spectacles, which only further obscured his expression, though he had left them off tonight.

"I meant to call on you when I returned, but—" David began before Michael cut him off.

"I understand. You have a life to ease back into." Michael looked him over, then gave him a small, rare smile. "It is good to see you do so well, old chap. You had me worried there that I would have to be your nursemaid in your dotage."

David shrugged, then remembered. "I meant to thank you. For looking out for Elena and Irene, and for writing me. It was much appreciated."

Michael gave a clipped nod. "I knew you had some idea in your head of saving her from a bad circumstance. But she does seem to be very much worth saving." Rare praise from Michael, especially for a woman. He wondered what Elena had done to earn his good opinion. Just then, David heard a change in the music and decided he should probably look again for Irene.

"I was surprised to see you at one of these events," he muttered, his gaze on the crowd. "You are not looking for a wife?"

"Not exactly." David noticed Michael scanning the crowd as well. His expression, as ever, was impossible to read.

"It is good that you got out of there in one piece." Michael went on, "You don't know how close we came to a drawn-out world war." That was about the closest Michael would probably come to saying he was glad David wasn't dead.

"I only got out of there, if you mean the Crimea, because my spine was so bruised, the doctors weren't sure I would walk again."

"Even so." Michael tilted his head, seemingly preoccupied with the crowd, and they lapsed into a few moments of silence. David caught eyes identical to his own, eyes that looked blank and empty. He knew he had to talk to Irene. He felt horrid that he might have forced her to have a Season if she did not want one. But he had asked, hadn't he? He thought back to their correspondence for a moment and couldn't remember. He resolved to consult with Elena on all decisions involving Irene in the future. And Irene, of course. Next to him, Michael gave a start as if he had found whomever he was looking for. His unreadable eyes widened slightly when they landed on Lord Gaius's daughter, Annie, who seemed to be enjoying herself dancing with a young man that David did not recognize. He did not know what to make of Michael's reaction, but he doubted Michael would tell him if he asked.

"Your sister is enjoying herself?" Michael asked distractedly.

David frowned and squinted at Irene. "I can't say. I ought to remedy that if you'll excuse me. Will you call on us later this week?"

"Of course. I always make room in my schedule for war heroes. Aren't they composing poetry for you these days?" Was Michael always this prickly? David didn't think so but saved his worry about that topic for later.

"I wasn't in the Light Brigade, Michael. I wasn't even there at the time." Michael always liked to talk about a topic ad nauseam, which David usually didn't mind, but he was growing tired of discussing the war.

"It was quite a miracle we won in the end." Michael went on. "The Russian Army vastly outnumbered us, but then again, the Russian Army, there's not any bigger, is there? Two million strong, at least."

David thought for a moment. "Possibly the Chinese army?"

He knew he had gotten Michael in that moment, as he knew his friend well enough to know his mind was whirring behind his unreadable eyes. David was pretty sure that the Russian army was larger, as far as he knew, but it would bother Michael to distraction if he did not have the exact numbers in front of him.

"I would have to look at the precise numbers. I'm sure the Foreign Office has them." David held back a grin. This was his opportunity to change the subject.

"But certainly, they are the largest army in Europe. You must grant me that."

David sighed. Michael really hadn't changed much. Before Michael could go on, David asked the question that had been at the forefront of his mind.

"That reminds me, could you introduce me to the ambassador to Constantinople?"

Michael had extensive connections in the Foreign Office. Having a rather hedonistic father, Michael and his older brother seemed committed to being useful to society. In Michael's case, perhaps too committed.

"I'd like to make inquiries about Elena's family. I should have tried more before I left, but I was rather preoccupied at the time."

"Of course. I shall make the introduction. It is still Redcliffe, though he has been speaking of retirement. He is in London currently."

"Thank you."

David was about to take his leave when Michael suddenly spoke, his gaze not moving from the crush.

"Have you heard from Lennix recently?"

Henry Lennix, brother and heir presumptive of Viscount Strathall, was another of their old friends. He and David did tend to get into spots of trouble here and there, but nothing too serious. David tried to remember the last time he had heard from him. "I received the odd letter on occasion, but nothing substantial. I haven't seen him since I've been back. I was going to call--"

"But you have a life to settle back into," Michael finished. "He's been different these last few years. I can't say what it is." He paused, and David appreciated that this was a rare moment when even Michael did not have the words.

"He was always a bit of a hellion, but I never worried for him." David tried to remember that time before the Crimea. He had been a bit of a hellion himself before he went to war, angry at the world for the loss of his parents, frustrated that he had inherited so much responsibility so young. His frustration had given way to a carelessness and an easygoing fa?ade that he used to cover this anger. Fortunately, he had grown out of most of the anger.

Michael's lips thinned. "He's been more than a hellion. He's been profligate these recent years. Nearly always in his cups when I see him. He'll drink himself to death at this rate."

David felt like he had been punched in the chest, and he struggled to draw breath for a moment. Had he been so tied up in his own pain these past few years that he had ignored his sister or the burden of the world he had brought Elena into? Ignored one of his oldest and dearest friends? He feared the answer was yes.

"Have you spoken with him?" he asked.

Michael's mouth went even thinner. "You know he never listens to me." Henry always had teased Michael, who had been so serious, even when he was young. David was often the peacemaker of the group.

David nodded. "I'll see him. This week, if I can."

"See who?"

He hadn't realized that Lord Gaius and Elena had returned. He feared his smile was as besotted as Michael accused him of, but he couldn't help it. His wife was so lovely to look at, and he was grateful for the reprieve from a difficult subject.

"Henry Lennix." He looked down, unsure if Lord Gaius knew about Henry's circumstances.

"What a coincidence. I told your wife I would like to host the old Round Table sometime soon. She wanted to see my library. Apparently, she is an avid reader."

"Is that so?" He hadn't asked her about reading yet. There had been too much else to think of.

"Yes, I cultivated a love of reading in English in the Crimea. I had a most excellent teacher." Her eyes danced as she turned back to Lord Gaius. "I think I can answer for both of us that we would be honored to attend, Lord Gaius. Yes, Husband?"

He tried very hard to keep a detached, casual expression, as the way she said "husband" sent an electric shiver up his spine. Even though "my lord" was more appropriate in society, "husband" in Elena's accent had the most charming ring to it.

"Anything, Wife." He could swear he heard Michael mutter "besotted" under his breath as they walked away, but Lord Gaius appeared not to hear him again.

****

David found Irene the next day while she was playing piano in the music room. She really was a prodigy, even better than their mother had been. He stood to listen for several moments before Irene noticed he was in the room. He hadn't registered he had closed his eyes until the music stopped.

"You're going to come with us today?"

His eyes snapped open, and he saw Irene regarding him with trepidation and affection. He reckoned it was their age difference that made them so close. Often, among his friends, those who had siblings close in age quarreled and fought, but since Irene was so much younger than him, he doted on her, and she, in turn, looked up to him. They were all each other had after their father died when she was still a child. He still couldn't believe she was in her first Season when all he could remember was having tea parties with her dolls.

He blinked out of his reverie. "Yes, if you and Elena will have me."

The corner of Irene's mouth turned up. "We could be in need of a footman."

"Ever your servant." He struggled to broach the subject he needed to discuss with her. "Last night you seemed a great success."

The light dimmed in Irene's eyes. "Yes, it was rather diverting."

This was going to be harder than he thought. He had no idea how to talk to his eighteen-year-old sister about her suitors. Perhaps he should have left this to Elena or Sophie.

"Irene, I noticed, that is, Elena and I agree that you, well, you didn't seem to be enjoying yourself very much.

She gave him a look. Now that he was back in the company of women, he was getting used to receiving that particular look.

"Should I have been?"

David didn't know how to answer. He knew that as the sister and daughter of a peer, Irene ought to have a Season. But he realized he had never really asked her what she wanted.

"Irene." He sighed. "I'm not very good at this. Elena's not from England, and Aunt Sophie grew up in trade, so I don't know anyone who could have helped you. Lord Gaius had a sister-in-law, but she died before Antigone was to have a season. I should have spoken to you before assuming—"

"It's all right, David." Irene took pity on him. "I'm just not the same girl I used to be. I'm unsure if I ever want to marry, and I feel too young to do so at this point. And the purpose of the Season is to essentially find a husband."

"Why don't you try to enjoy yourself, and that will be your purpose. And if you meet someone you wouldn't mind…" His discomfort with discussing this subject with his little sister rose substantially. "Spending time with, then, that would be capital."

Irene sighed. "It's hard to enjoy oneself in that environment. So much waste and excess."

David smiled, remembering his own younger self. "Yes, but you can enjoy it and still feel superior."

Irene swatted him. She then turned serious. "I should so like to do something with my life, David. I couldn't stand it if this was all there was. I just haven't figured it out yet."

He remembered coming to the same conclusion several years earlier in this very room. They were indeed strangely alike despite their age difference.

"I'm still figuring that out as well, Irene."