An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts 2)

“Your reputation means as much to me,” he said as she passed him.

Matilda locked the gate. “But these are not my friends. When it ends and we part ways, they will sympathize with you and hate me. I can live with that. I don’t think you should have to.”

His gaze was direct. “I don’t think I would like that outcome for you.”

As they made their way through the garden, William slipped his arm behind her back. She leaned into him, wondering what had happened to him earlier that he could have acted so afraid. William did not like her to pry, but it had been obvious he was beset by a spell of some description. She’d been calling his name in that dusty stable for several minutes before resorting to using Billy just to break through to him.

She stopped him and then quickly inspected his appearance. There was straw sticking to the tails of his coat, so she quickly flicked the pieces away with her hand.

“Are you attempting to punish me?”

“No. I leave that sort of thing entirely to you.” The flippant remark sparked an unexpected twinge. So far, they had not returned to the subject of spanking. But to bring it up now wasn’t the best time for her nerves. She shrugged and brushed his shoulders one more time. “There now. Perfectly handsome once more.”

He looked toward the ballroom and tensed. “I need to go home,” he whispered.

Matilda nodded, thinking that a very good idea. “I’ll speak with your aunt and claim my headache takes us away. I’m sure she can manage your sisters for the remaining hours without us as chaperones.”

“Thank you.”

They returned to the ballroom, William’s grip on her arm tight. She said their good-byes, explained she wasn’t feeling well, and hurried William out to await their carriage in the hall. On the way through the crowd, she noticed his eyes grew wild whenever the press of bodies around them drew too close.

Once they were inside the comforting darkness of their borrowed carriage, William dropped his head onto her shoulder. His arm slipped around her body and he dragged her close, almost into his lap. She froze, uncertain of what William was about. He had not held her since the early days of his recovery, and then only when he had been asleep or when he was very restless. It was as if he needed someone to hold him to the earth.

He still seemed not himself, so Matilda allowed him to remain close, stroking his arm in a manner she hoped soothed him. His breathing settled during the journey, and by the time they drew up before the town house, he was still quiet but calm once more.

Once at home, she spoke for him, wished the butler good night, and requested Dawson come up to attend William in his bedchamber. His mood remained subdued, and he made no further advances toward her.

Matilda turned back his bedding and patted the mattress. “Come and sit. Mr. Dawson will be here in a moment and will help you ready for bed.”

William sat on the edge of the bed in silence, appearing lost in thought, quite unlike the confident man she’d come to expect when they were alone. He was hurting, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

When Dawson arrived, she wished them both a good night, then retreated to the dressing room. She struggled out of her gown unaided, then pulled her nightgown on. She left her hair unbound, which William seemed to prefer, and waited. When the valet finally left William, she hurried back in, finding her husband exactly where she’d left him but without his shirt, waistcoat, and coat. His feet were bare, though he still wore his black silk breeches.

Her pulse raced a little too fast at the state of his undress and she swallowed. She was rooted to the spot by his body and his vulnerability. “Are you going to sit there all night?”

He took a deep breath. “I considered it.”

Matilda shook off her apprehension and moved toward him. “Sleep will help.”

“Sleep is another nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” She set her hand to his shoulder and then his brow to test him for fever. “I don’t understand.”

“I dream, Mattie. Even during the day.” A shudder wracked him. “I’d rather be awake than remember the past.”

“You dream of the war?”

His nod was brisk. “Every death I dealt, every wound I inflicted. Only it is worse than when it actually happened. I’m…”

He almost said more, but he turned away as if he couldn’t face her.

Matilda’s heart skipped a beat. She had no understanding of the violence of war, but clearly William could not bear it. It was months now since his participation had ended. He never spoke of his past. She had imagined he’d not cared to dwell on it.

Matilda set her hand to his shoulder, then glided her fingers softly over bare, heated skin. Touching him seemed too intimate, but he’d always responded well to her caresses during his convalescence. “I had no idea. Lie down now.”

William folded to the mattress slowly. “Will you stay in my arms tonight?”

She bit her lip. Once since their marriage he had managed to wrap around her without waking her from sleep. Was that all he wanted?