She knew immediately that he had awakened. His body stilled, and his stiff muscles relaxed. “Marion?”
“Yes. It’s me. I’m here. You were having a nightmare.”
He closed his eyes and moaned, letting his head drop back.
Marion gave him a moment to compose himself, then grasped his forearm. “Let me help you back into bed.”
Tristan stiffened once more. “There is no need to help me into bed. I am not an invalid.” He brushed aside her hand and rose. Despite his claims to the contrary, he swayed when he stood, but quickly attempted to hide it by sitting on the edge of the bed.
Marion sat back on her heels and regarded him. “I think you were dreaming of your time on the ship.”
“Since lately that is usually the source of my nightmares, that is an excellent observation on your part.”
She felt him immediately shut down, blocking her out. “You have them often?”
After his quick nod, she continued, “Do you want to talk about it?” Although Drake had told her the story after he’d visited with Tristan, perhaps relating it to her might ease his mind a bit.
“What is it with women that they believe if one talks about something, it will go away?” He used the sleeve of his nightshirt to wipe the perspiration from his face. “Mrs. Gibbons always wanted me to talk about my experience. Do none of you realize that bad memories are a part of life? If one has no bad memories, then he most likely hasn’t lived long enough.”
Marion stood and sat alongside him on the bed, giving him distance. His anger was most likely in direct proportion to his embarrassment at again appearing less than a man.
He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, his bent elbows resting on his thighs. After several moments of silence, he said, “The frigate under my command came upon pirates attacking a Portuguese merchant ship. We battled for more than three hours. We had crippled the pirates when a fire broke out on our lower deck where the guns and gunpowder were stored.
“It became apparent that the fire would soon rage out of control, so I ordered the men to abandon ship. Before the last man had left, the gunpowder exploded and I was thrown into the sea. Both the frigate and the pirate ship sank.”
Marion fought the urge to touch him. Tristan had been terrified of fire since his family had perished in a blaze. To think he had had to face that horror again made her stomach roil. Though somehow she knew any comforting on her part would be viewed by him as another sign of his weakness.
How she yearned to wrap her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. Not just for his comfort, but for hers. He’d suffered so much in his life, yet he refused to accept any of her compassion. To Tristan, any show of sympathy on her part would be viewed as pity. The last thing she wished to convey to him.
He shot her a wry smile. “Now that I have confessed all, I should feel up to snuff, with no worries or future nightmares?”
How to respond to that? His tone was obviously sarcastic, however, she couldn’t help but believe talking about his troubles would, indeed, help with his nightmares. Reaching the Tristan she knew so well, behind the façade of the man he’d become, would definitely be a dance of two steps forward and one step back.
“You may scoff, but keeping all of that bottled up inside you could not be good for your health.”
“Ah. My health. As if talking would bring back my sight.” He shook his head and stood. “If you will excuse me, madam, I wish to attempt a return to sleep.”
Frustrated, Marion climbed to her feet. “As you wish. I will see you at breakfast.”
“Yes, indeed. I will see you at breakfast as well.”
Tied in knots, and with no response that would help, she crossed the room and closed the door quietly.
…
“My lady, the Duchess of Manchester and Lady Abigail Fox have inquired as to whether you are at home.” Mason stood in all his butler-like stiffness as he announced Penelope and Abigail’s arrival the next afternoon.
“Oh, heavens. Yes, please, show them right in.” Marion leaped from her chair, casting aside the book she was trying very hard to read.
Her thoughts had been going in circles since she had arisen that morning. A visit from her sister-in-law and sister was just the thing she needed to pull her out of her doldrums. And perhaps they might even have some advice for her.
“Marion, how lovely to see you!” Penelope hurried into the room, her rounded belly a slight bump under her gown.
Marion hugged her back. “Yes, it is lovely to see you, as well.” She moved back and studied her. “You are beginning to show.”
“Yes, but I think this one will be a bit smaller than Robert. Perhaps we’re to be blessed with a daughter this time.”
“That would be wonderful.” Marion was immediately taken by a cry from Penelope’s son, Robert, who reached out for her with his chubby arms extended, his fingers flexing.
“My goodness, Robert, I am your auntie, too,” Abigail said as she handed the wiggling child over to Marion. At the early stages of her first pregnancy, Abigail’s belly was already larger than Penelope’s.
“There you are, my boy. Auntie has missed you so much,” Marion cooed as she ran her palm over the child’s silky hair. “I am so happy your mama has brought you to visit.” She turned to Penelope, who was shifting in her chair, trying to get comfortable. “Where is your nanny?”
Penelope waved her dismissal. “Oh, we had to let her go. Robert didn’t like her.”
Abigail and Marion grinned at each other. Penelope had let at least three nannies go since Robert had been born a mere ten months prior. But being the soft-hearted person she was, she always managed to find them another position with a glowing reference before they left.
Penelope did not want anyone taking care of her son except her. For, as unheard of as that was for someone of her rank, having been brought up in America, she viewed handing over your children to staff members with disdain. Luckily, the dowager duchess had been a very involved mother with her children, so no one in the family found Penelope’s concerns odd. And a besotted Drake would do just about anything his wife wanted.
“I miss my favorite nephew so much.” Marion nuzzled his pudgy neck, and the child threw his head back and giggled.
Abigail patted her stomach. “Be careful there, Auntie Marion. You may have another nephew in a few months, and one mustn’t play favorites.”
“Yes. I know. But from the size of your tummy already, perhaps I will have another nephew and also a niece.”
“Twins?” Abigail smiled and rested her hand on her belly. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Perhaps you will have a child of your own sometime soon,” Penelope said, touching Marion’s arm softly.
She sat the baby in her lap and regarded the two women. “Probably not.” She chewed on her lip, avoiding the women’s stare and then, to her horror, she burst into tears.
Sensing his auntie’s distress, Robert began to wail, and reached out for his mother.
“Oh, dear.” Penelope hopped up and rescued her son from Marion’s grip. “We need tea. I’ll send for tea.” With the wailing child in her arms, she hurried to the door.
Abigail moved to sit next to Marion, her arm around her as Marion’s shoulders shook and she wiped her cheeks with her fingers.
“Don’t let anyone see me,” Marion called from her spot on the settee.
“No, of course not.” Penelope opened the door, jiggling Robert as she summoned Mason. She was apparently having some difficulty asking for a tea tray over Robert’s wailing and Marion’s sobs. Mason attempted to push open the door, but Penelope held firm.
“Your Grace, if my lady is distressed, perhaps I should send for his lordship.”
“No!” Marion stood abruptly, almost knocking Abigail to the floor. “Mason, I am fine.” She twisted her hands. “Just have Cook prepare the tea.”
Penelope closed the door, took two steps, and was yanked back, almost losing her footing.
“For heaven’s sake…” She turned and mumbled under her breath. Tugging hard, she pulled the bottom of her gown from where it had caught in the door. A ripping sound followed as she hurried to the women on the settee.
“Oh, look. You’ve torn your gown.” Marion patted her eyes with the handkerchief Abigail had drawn from her reticule.
“It is no matter.” Penelope walked up and down, patting Robert on his back. Within minutes the boy settled down and, in the way of children, fell fast asleep against his mother’s chest.
Watching the scene of mother and child, with Penelope’s slightly swollen belly, and Abigail’s hand resting on her tummy, brought on a fresh wave of self-pity. Marion took in a shuddering breath. “I am so sorry for my outburst.”
“No need to apologize, Marion. But can you tell us what has you so upset?” Abigail asked.
After a few seconds of trying to put into words all her fear and disappointment on how their marriage—or lack of marriage—was progressing, she decided on one word. “Tristan.”
“Ah.” Penelope eased her body into the chair across from Marion and Abigail, and shifted Robert so he lay cradled in her arms. She absently trailed her fingers through his curls. “Are things not going well?”
Marion shrugged. “Things aren’t going at all.” She wiped her nose with the handkerchief and shook her head. “At times it seems as if nothing has happened to change us. I sense the familiar warmth and closeness that we’ve always shared. Then, when I am feeling hopeful, Tristan will pull back and shut me out.”
“Is he still determined to seek a divorce, then?”
“Yes. But that is impossible. He is of the opinion that if he divorces me, I can find another husband and have a family.”
“That’s preposterous!” Abigail said.
“Exactly. If he were even able to secure a divorce—which is highly unlikely—the scandal would prevent me from ever marrying again. And…I don’t wish to marry again. I have a perfectly wonderful husband whom I love dearly, and who I know loves me still.”
“Oh dear, this is a conundrum.”
The women all fell silent until a knock on the door drew their attention. “Yes,” Marion said.
“Your tea, my lady.” A footman opened the door, and Mason carried in a tray laden with a teapot, cups and saucers, and a plate of biscuits. “My lady, Cook said if you wish something heartier, she can send some sandwiches.”
“Thank you, Mason, but that won’t be necessary.”
“Um, actually, Marion, I wouldn’t mind something more substantial.” Abigail grinned, her face flushing.
“Oh, of course, forgive me. I forgot you are eating for more than one person.” She addressed Mason. “If you would please have Cook send some sandwiches, that would be wonderful.”
After placing the tea tray within reach of the three women, the butler left, closing the door softly behind him.
“Now, Marion. We must come up with a plan to get Tristan to realize his blindness does not in any way make him unacceptable as a husband,” Abigail said.
“Seduce him!” Penelope blurted out. Then, seeing the startled looks on her sisters-in-law’s faces, she covered her grin with her fingertips.
“That’s a splendid idea.” Abigail leaned forward, her tea forgotten. “If you seduce him, he will be hard pressed to say he is not an acceptable husband. I mean, after all, isn’t that what marriage is all about?” She stopped at the other women’s gasps, then raised her chin. “Don’t deny it, ladies. We all know what men like best about marriage. And if he is able to, um…perform, his ego will be comfortably soothed.” She paused and regarded the other women with wide-eyed concern. “Heavens, he is able to…I mean, his blindness hasn’t affected his…um, nether parts?”
Marion and Penelope exchanged guilty glances, and then all three burst out laughing.
“Since he hasn’t, ah, approached me in that way, I can’t say for sure if his…manly parts work,” Marion fanned her heated face. “However, from what I’ve seen when he was unaware of my regard, all seems to be in order.” She wiped her forehead. “Goodness, I can’t believe this conversation.”
The ladies giggled once more, then Marion’s face fell. “I’m afraid I have no idea how to seduce someone.”
Penelope tapped her finger against her chin. “I would suggest a certain type of nightgown, but since Tristan can’t see that…”
“Tristan says he can always tell when I’m near him. He claims it is my unique scent and my footsteps. According to him, since he lost his sight, his other senses are stronger.”
After a minute Abigail said, “Well…since his sense of touch and smell are sharper, you’ll just have to use your hands.”
“Or your mouth.” Once again, at Penelope’s suggestion, the other women blushed brightly and then giggled.
“Penelope, since you are married to our brother, I don’t think I want to hear any more suggestions from you,” Abigail said, trying unsuccessfully to hide her grin.
“Oh, my. This room has become quite heated.” Marion said as she patted her upper lip with a serviette.
“But now you have some ideas on how to go on. You have to get Tristan interested in you…that way. Then, once you’ve shared a bed, it will be much harder for him to insist on a divorce. He is a gentleman, after all,” Abigail said.
A light tap, then the door to the drawing room opened, gaining their attention. Tristan moved into the room. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had visitors.”
Penelope and Abigail gave each other a questioning glance.
“My sister, Abigail, and my sister-in-law have come to visit.” She paused and turned to introduce her sister-in-law Penelope to her husband. “Your Grace, may I take this opportunity to introduce to you my husband, Tristan, Lord Tunstall?”
Penelope inclined her head. “My lord.”
He bowed stiffly. “Your Grace. And Lady Abigail, a pleasure.” He hesitated for a moment and, seeming to gather his thoughts, he added, “I apologize again for intruding. Ladies, I wish you all a good day.” He turned abruptly and left the room.
“Goodness.” Abigail blew out a breath and collapsed against the back of the settee.
“Do you see what I mean? He’s not the same Tristan I married.” Marion shook her head. “He never would have been so rude. He would have been more than happy to join us and chat for a while. Surely you remember, Abigail?”
“Yes, I certainly do. Tristan was always a warm and friendly sort, even if a bit on the quiet side.”
“But he knew you had visitors?” Penelope asked.
Marion smiled softly. “Is it not remarkable how he compensates for the loss of his sight?”
“My girl, you have your work cut out for you. But don’t give up,” Abigail said.
“I have no intention of giving up.” Marion studied the door where Tristan had exited. If she had to put her pride in her pocket and seduce her husband, then that was precisely what she would do.
Beware, Tristan. Your wife is coming for you, and I am determined.
Chapter Eight
Tristan made it as far as the library before he stopped and took a deep breath. How could he have been so incredibly rude? To ignore, and then cut, Marion’s family when they visited his home was beyond the pale. He’d been so taken aback and flustered at her having company, he’d reacted like a boor.
Should he return and apologize? Or just let it go? And how embarrassed Marion must be. He deserved a good tongue lashing.
Reaching the window, he pounded his fist against the frame. She should not be here, receiving visitors. She should be back with her family, not teasing him with her scent, her voice, her touches. Dammit, he didn’t want her!
Liar.
All right. He did want her, but for God’s sake he didn’t want to want her. She was slowly worming her way into his life. And heart. Not that she’d ever left his heart, but he’d hardened himself against her, had been able to keep up the pretense for more than two years. How easily she wa
s breaking down his resolve.
A thought slowly trickled into his mind. Suppose you stopped pushing her away?
The rush of joy and relief that washed over him almost brought him to his knees. Then, before he became too comfortable with the idea, he shoved it away.
No man without sight could be a proper husband. And fatherhood? How could he teach a son to be a man when he was only half a man himself? Best if he put that tantalizing idea to rest and accepted his life for what it had become.
Things would have been so much better had he been the one to die in the fire that had wiped out his family. Thomas would never have joined the Royal Navy and would have been able to carry on his family name and heritage. He, on the other hand, as the second best son, had let his parents down once again.
The sound of ladies’ chatter and the closing of the front door brought him up short. Would Marion lash her anger and disappointment on him? He braced himself as the door opened and Marion entered.
“My dear, before you say anything, I am sorry for having intruded on your company. I hope the ladies didn’t leave on account of my rudeness.”
“Not at all. We were nearing the end of our visit.” She hesitated, then continued, “I wish you hadn’t left so quickly. They were anxious to spend some time with you, as well.”
“No.”
When he didn’t add any further comments, he could feel her disappointment, and then her struggle to remain pleasant. God, he could sense her every mood by merely being in the same room with her.
“I was about to take a stroll in the garden. Would you care to join me?” He was correct, the fake smile was in her voice as she issued her invitation.
“Yes. I could use a bit of fresh air.” He gripped his cane and extended his elbow for her to take.
As they stepped outside, the lack of sun chilled him to the bone. He tugged Marion closer, not sure whether he was trying to warm her or himself. “Is it too cold for you today?”
“No, actually I enjoy the brisk air.”
“Did you have a pleasant visit with your family?”
“Yes, very much. It was so nice to see them again. And Penelope is enceinte once more, as is Abigail.” She sighed, causing his stomach muscles to tighten. Her unspoken everyone except me tore at him.
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