Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Gunshots pierced the air. Fireballs trailed and sparked, exploding into plumes of smoke all around him.
Richard whirled around just as one soldier fell on his right.
Screams beckoned from every side, the desperate cries of dying men.
He twisted the other way, only to watch another three comrades collapse.
No, not again—his heart thundered. His breathing grew clipped. There were already too many lives lost, too many hopes broken. A bloodied hand waved a few yards away. Richard scrambled forward, eager to help save even one life more.
But the soldier pulled further away with every step he managed. Despite stride after arduous stride, the land between them stretched and pulled. More cries joined the cacophony, female voices mingling with the male.
Richard turned behind him. He was drenched—in sweat, in blood, and likely a dozen other things. The battlefield swirled in a state of smoke. It was difficult to see even as the voices persisted.
Was that his batman? Or was it his general? He paused to listen. The gunshots had stopped. There had to be other reasons for the cries pealing around him.
Adelaide—her name cut through the haze. Richard jumped to attention.
He had to save Adelaide. The distant figures swathed in gray grew sharper as he ran towards them.
There was Mr. Bamburst, one hand around Adelaide and another around Macy.
Both women had their mouths opened in screams, but Richard heard nothing.
Had the canons rendered him deaf? There was ringing. So much ringing. He ran towards the three figures. Mr. Bamburst taunted him with sneers. The two Pershing sisters struggled and fought. Bamburst was going to kill them. He was going to—
Soft hands wrapped around him. A sweet scent filled his senses. He struggled momentarily, before his body eased of its own volition. Then slowly, the images blurred. Gradually, the ringing dwindled.
“Richard.” A woman’s voice calmed him by name. His breathing eased. He reached his hands out into the darkness. Soft fingers closed around his and brought them back to his chest.
Cool fabric brushed against his cheeks. There was no more gunfire, no more Mr. Bamburst. Richard relished the air that returned to his lungs.
His heart slowed back from its frenzy to a slower, steadier rhythm. There was no gunfire. There was no Mr. Bamburst. Adelaide was well. Macy was well. He saved them. He always would.
He drifted back to sleep.
The sun shone bright by the time Richard roused again. His sheets lay strewn around him in a tangled mess, a common occurrence after a night of difficult dreams.
He was alone, as always. But on the pillow next to his, there lay a few strands of long, deep-brown hair. And when he pressed his face closer to examine them, there was the indubitable lingering scent of sweet pea.
Richard planned their journey back to Granville so well that Adelaide barely remembered being inconvenienced in any sort of way the entire way home.
As her husband had promised, they took a slightly longer route returning in order to ensure Macy was safely delivered in person to Miss Stanley’s Finishing School for Girls.
And while Adelaide might have felt some trepidation regarding entrusting her sister to strangers, Miss Stanley and her teachers appeared so kind and genteel that she immediately knew her worries were unfounded.
There, Macy would be treated just like any other student. There, Macy would be free to thrive, far from the threats of Aunt Dinah or Mr. Bamburst and their ilk.
At long last, her sister was safe, and Adelaide could finally turn her thoughts towards her own happiness.
She sneaked a glance across the width of the carriage to her gallant husband as they rode the last few miles to Granville.
His eyes stayed fixed outside the window for most of the journey, although he remarked occasionally upon the distance until their next stop.
By all appearances, he was calm and entirely in control.
But that was not the man she had encountered three nights ago in London.
Adelaide’s heart clenched at the memory of her strong, protective husband crying out in his sleep, anguished. She did not know what terrors tortured him then, but she had tried her best to soothe him, even staying beside him until just before the break of dawn.
Even then, she knew it wasn’t enough. Her husband—her dear, heroic Richard—had been battling demons of his own for Lord knew how long, and all she’d ever done was to wait for him to rescue her.
Guilt over her own neglect tugged at her. Her fears, for herself and for Macy, were hardly unfounded. But the presence of those fears did not justify her neglect of her husband.
Slowly, as one would approach a skittish animal, Adelaide inched her gloved fingers across the seat and brushed them against Richard’s. When he didn’t respond immediately, she slid her hand beneath his until he noticed and turned to face her.
He looked down at their joined hands, as if puzzled, before glancing back up. “Is everything alright?”
Was everything alright? Adelaide knew things weren’t, but she could hardly put a finger upon what exactly was wrong between them, as individuals and together.
She tried to speak gently. “Thank you for arranging for Macy’s schooling.”
“You are most welcome.” He responded matter-of-factly. “I do believe Miss Stanley’s will be good for her.”
“Oh, undoubtedly. And knowing that she is finally out of Aunt Dinah’s reach—oh, Richard, you have no idea how relieving that is to me.”
His lips lifted into a small smile then, and he angled his body towards her before reaching forward and clasping both her hands. “You must know that I will gladly protect you, and everyone you love, to the last breath of my being.”
“But why?” The question flew out of its own accord, foolish as it was to question the best thing to ever have happened to her. “I do not think I deserve such devotion.”
He did not answer right away. But when he did, his voice was low and gentle. “You are my wife, Adelaide. If I fail in protecting you—then what sort of husband would I be?”
The tears came unbidden. She succeeded in suppressing most of them, but her eyesight still blurred. “Not all men are so good.”
“You seem to have a very low view of men, my darling.”
How could she not?
Adelaide sniffed. “Most men I have known in life have not been—gentle.”
“No, I can see that. But with Macy ensconced in school and you safely married, Mr. Bamburst can no longer hurt you. I hope you understand that.”
Of course she understood—but Mr. Bamburst was hardly the worst she’d seen of the male species. That title belonged to her own father.
“Richard, I hope you understand,” she said, making her first true attempt at untangling her past with her husband. For how could she ever expect him to reveal his troubles, if she constantly buried hers? “I am—I am afraid not just for my safety from Mr. Bamburst.”
“Of course. There is your aunt too.”
Adelaide sniffled. If only it were not so difficult to put it all into words!
She steeled herself for another attempt. “Before we came to London, we made sure to tell everyone that my parents passed in a carriage accident. And yet—”
Her words halted at the sight of Richard’s eager, concerned eyes. Would explaining her past truly help close the chasm between them, or would it only add to his worries, when he already had so many of his own?
Adelaide was thwarted the opportunity to decide when their carriage pulled up to Granville, where the carriage door was thrown open in an immediate, dramatic fashion.
“Ah! Richard! There you are! And your new bride too.” A tall man with a bright smile and a slightly scruffy face called into the carriage. “Felicitations, Mrs. Avington. I’m Harold, and I am one of the new brothers you’ve acquired.”