Chapter Twelve
Dante came into the house that afternoon and was immediately grateful for the warmth of his home. Outside, he’d come through spitting rain that had turned to snow not long before he’d entered the building. Because of the rain, he’d been chilled to the bone.
He’d had meetings with investors and other businessmen all day while Anne had been at her clinic.
Oddly, he missed her presence, for the time they’d spent together last night had been…
life changing, for lack of a better word.
Perhaps if he admitted that to any of his friends, it might sound disingenuous, but it was the truth.
Never had anyone comforted him or recognized his distress and the need for just being held until Anne had come into his life.
He still couldn’t wrap his brain around that fact.
Her presence had helped soothe the demons that haunted him for a bit.
And afterward, when they’d come together in that gentle coupling where so much had been exchanged between them.
It had surprised him to the depths of his being.
Now, he wanted to do something lovely for her that might show his growing regard and his gratitude for how she’d helped him last night. As he handed his outer things to the butler, he asked, “Is my wife in residence?”
“She is, sir.” Peterson nodded. “However, she’s not come out of her rooms as yet.”
“I see.” He nodded. “If at all possible, I’d like to take tea, perhaps a light meal, in the private family parlor this afternoon, for I’m not in the mood for formality.” In fact, he wanted a cozy evening with just his wife present, to further bond with her.
“Of course. I’ll let the cook know. A footman will bring up your trays within a half hour. Is that acceptable?”
“Absolutely.” With a nod, he left the entry hall bound for his wife’s rooms. At her door, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden panel.
“Anne?” When she didn’t respond to his hail, he frowned and knocked again.
“Anne?” Sounds coming from within were concerning, for they resembled soft whimpering.
“Anne?” Not waiting for permission, Dante pressed the latch and then pushed open the door.
When he didn’t find her immediately in the bedchamber, he moved to the adjoining dressing room, which was where he found her on the floor with her back to the wall, her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around her legs.
The skirts of her dark green gown flowed around the floor.
She rested her cheek on her knees, and from the tracks of tears on her face, it was obvious she’d been crying.
Also, her breathing was labored, and every once in a while, she shivered as if she were afraid.
With his chest tight from concern, he kneeled beside her. “What’s wrong?” The faint scent of candle smoke lingered in the air.
She sucked in a breath. “Sometimes, I suffer from attacks fueled by panic,” she explained in a ragged voice. “It happened a quarter of an hour ago.”
“Why?” He’d not known that about her.
“The maid closed the door.”
That didn’t make any sense. Perhaps the maid had assumed Anne would leave the suite for tea and that was why the candles had been put out. “And?”
“I hadn’t been expecting that.” When she met his gaze, tears shimmered in the sapphire depths of her eyes, magnifying the blue. “It frightened me, and the fear convinced me I couldn’t get out even though my mind knew that wasn’t true.”
It was a rather murky situation, and in the hope of understanding her better, he continued with his line of questioning. “Do such episodes happen often?”
“Don’t leave me here alone, Broderick. I’m afraid of the dark.” Though she stared at him, he wasn’t quite certain that she truly saw him. Whatever nightmare she was trapped in, it had a strong grip on her.
“I won’t leave you. I promise.” But he didn’t want to stay here, in the source of so much trauma, apparently. “Let’s go someplace where you won’t be quite as frightened.” After standing, he picked her up in his arms.
Panic reflected in her eyes. “Where are we going?”
“Into the private parlor. There is plenty of candlelight, it’s intimate, and we will share tea and a light repast there instead of in the dining room.
” As protective instincts flared, he pressed his lips to her temple.
“You will be safe there.” What was more, he wanted to have the right to protect her for the rest of her life.
Would she let him?
Once in the parlor, he dropped into a winged back chair of blue brocade and settled her over his lap so that her legs hung over the edge. A pretty picture, indeed, but he kept his arms around her so she would feel secure.
“Tell me why you are afraid of closed off spaces and the dark,” he asked in a low voice, for he wanted to learn as much about her as he could.
She met his gaze. Worry clouded those blue depths. “You will think me a silly goose.”
“I won’t.” Dante shook his head. “Not after everything I struggle with.”
Slowly, she nodded. “Alan was the oldest of us, but as my twin, he was only fifteen minutes older,” she added with a tight smile. “My sisters are three and five years younger than me.”
He remained quiet, not wishing to interrupt her concentration. Instead, he stroked a hand up and down her back and hoped he imparted the same calm to her that she had to him last night.
“When Alan was old enough, my father sent him off to Eton, as is tradition for many of the beau monde’s sons.” She toyed with the folds of his cravat. “My sisters and I stayed behind at my father’s country estate most of the year, and my parents engaged a governess.”
“Was she agreeable?”
“At first.” Anne nodded. “She was everything polite and lovely. Paid attention to us. We went on outings.” A sigh escaped her.
“Then my mother’s health began to fail. She spent much of her time in her rooms in bed.
No doubt having three children underfoot with demands didn’t help her flagging strength. ”
This was the first time hearing anything about his wife’s family, with the exception of her brother. “That wasn’t your fault, you know.”
“I do.” She rested her head against his shoulder.
“The governess soon had designs on my father, but since looking after three children prohibited that pursuit, she often took to locking us in various cupboards within the schoolroom and telling anyone who might inquire that we were outside, running amok in the countryside.”
“Dear God. I’m so sorry.” That sounded horrible for young children.
“So am I. It was terrifying to be so long in the dark in those cramped spaces, never knowing when we would be let out.” She closed her eyes, no doubt hoping to block out the memories.
“When we would complain about the treatment—since we often spent hours locked away while the governess spent time with my father—she would beat our legs and our backs with a wooden yardstick, telling us that locking us away was to keep us safe from wandering off.”
“Because she wished to bed your father.” Of course, he was properly appalled but wasn’t surprised. There was far too much of that in their world.
“Yes.” Anne nodded. “Oh, we all knew when she became his mistress. She put on airs in any event, while my mother grew weaker and couldn’t prevent my father from taking a lover.
” For long moments, she remained silent while pleating the folds of his cravat.
“The governess was insufferable after that, and the abuse continued.”
“What did your father say? Surely, he had to know.”
“If he did, he didn’t care. Men’s brains cease to function when there is a young, pretty woman interested in being bedding.”
“Sounds like your governess saw an easy path to a title and went with it.”
“It does.” She raised her gaze to his. “Years passed. My mother’s health never improved.
Alan, we thought, went to university, but apparently joined with the Home Office instead.
I became engaged. Then the news came that he died.
Shortly after, my mother succumbed to her illness.
I spent years in mourning. And then my fiancé perished as well, and around that time, my father finally married my former governess. ”
“Good God.” So that was the reason for the bad blood between the two women.
“But the trauma of those years lingered.” The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “I don’t like to be alone or in the dark. Many nights, I need a candle burning so I can fall asleep. The darkness is frightening. I always feel as if I’ll be forever trapped inside it.”
The story was horrific, sad, and enlightening as well. Dante’s heart squeezed as he cuddled her closer. “Yet you came into my room last night in the dark without a candle.
“I did.” Shock moved over her face. “I didn’t think of my needs, just wanted to help you with yours.”
That was no small feat for her, and he didn’t take that extension of trust lightly. “I was your candle even lost as I was?”
Her eyes rounded. “I suppose you were.”
I rather like that.
“You are not trapped with me, Anne.” He nodded as if that settled it. “I’ll protect you, from anything that frightens you—even me—but if you want out of this union…”
She pressed her lips together, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Damn but he wanted to kiss her. “I don’t.”
“Oh.” Was protecting her, providing his wife a safe place to exist, his new purpose? Would doing that distract him from his own ghosts? It was interesting to think about. “How are you feeling now? Better?”
“A little.” She met his gaze. “My chest doesn’t seem as tight.”
“Good.” Before he could say anything else, two footmen came into the room, each bearing a silver tray with plates and bowls of food resting on top.
“Ah, tea has arrived.” Gently, he encouraged her off his lap as the young men glanced their way.
Let them think what they wanted. He didn’t care.
“Just set it on the table. We can serve ourselves.”