William snorted. “He claimed that before the scar.”
“Then he’d better hope not to meet anyone with as long a memory as mine.” She smiled shyly and then leaned forward a little to add in a softer voice, “My husband’s looks haven’t changed that much to force him to second place to anyone.”
William choked back his surprise at the praise while Deacon laughed. Damn it all! Matilda could say the most flattering things in public. Word was sure to spread of her admiration too, which would make the eventual news of their parting so much more shocking to a scandal-loving society.
It was all an act of course, flattery designed to encourage public belief in their happy marriage, but her remarks of indifference to his injury never failed to stroke his ego. His scar was hideous, his whole face twisted to one side, and he had noticed more than a few women become distressed at the sight. Not Matilda though. She barely paid it any attention and always looked him in the eye.
“I’d be honored if you’d grant me the pleasure of a dance, madam,” Deacon asked of Matilda, his eyes glowing with good cheer and innocent friendship.
William nudged Matilda softly so she would accept. He’d talked to her about dancing with other men. Although she was nervous about putting a foot wrong and having her feet crushed time and again, he’d promised that he’d be watching so she’d never feel alone. Dancing with Deacon should pose no problem to her toes. He was a decent sort, and not one to overstep with a man’s wife, and by all accounts he danced well.
“It would be a pleasure,” she murmured. Matilda turned to him and smiled warmly. “Excuse me, darling. I will return soon.”
“I’ll be waiting.” And watching.
He always watched her. He couldn’t seem to stop. Since the first night he’d held her in his arms, he’d been unsettled whenever they were apart.
They left him to line up on the dance floor. Deacon was well over six feet, and next to Matilda he appeared a veritable giant. Matilda swirled her skirts a little as the musicians tuned their instruments. A cotillion began, and William moved closer, keen to watch how Matilda did with the dance. She fascinated him. She was very graceful, which had at first surprised him. When they had practiced at home, he had quickly come to the conclusion she might have taken lessons before entering service.
About her former life she was reluctant to speak. Anything he found out, he’d had to pry out of her carefully.
Even with Deacon she was light on her feet, graceful and charming to watch. Her lithe movements made his heartbeat quicken.
They moved farther away, and although he’d prefer to follow, a new wave of guests arrived from the direction of the card room, and he was blocked.
Annoyed, he tried to push his way through to no avail. He was jostled, and the noise of hearty greetings rose around him. The stink of cigar smoke and alcohol filled his nose, and he fought a sudden wave of nausea.
He lost sight of Matilda and Deacon as his heart raced.
In fact, he couldn’t see anyone he knew around him, and the idea that he was left behind, abandoned, rolled over him like a breaking wave in a high sea.
He broke out into a sweat as he gasped and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. A woman brayed like a horse right behind him, causing him to jump, but the hubbub kept rising until he could only hear the sound of his own desperate breathing and quickening heartbeat.
William dug his fingers under his cravat, desperately trying to gain some air, frantically trying to see where he was headed, determinedly trying to reach his Matilda again.
Although he tried to move forward to where he thought Matilda might be by now, he was utterly surrounded by a wall of strangers. A glass smashed to the floor, a man shouted, and William gasped out loud. Panicked. Afraid.
He saw an opening in the crowd and shoved his way through it, not stopping until he reached the empty terrace and the fresh night air beyond. But even out here, there were hidden dangers. He heard whispers and moans from the darkness. There was no escape from people with prying eyes, lurking in the shadows with their lovers.
He dragged in huge breaths as his pulse raced. He needed…
From within the ballroom, noise continued to drown out all thought he might have had of going back inside. He stumbled into the darkness, desperate for a moment alone. He didn’t want to be seen like this. He reached the shelter of a low stone wall and rested against it as his ears began to ring and a second, hotter fever broke out all over his body. He stood again and managed to walk away, allowing the cooler night air to slide across his face.
He ran.
Running for safety.
William clutched his head, covered his ears, overwhelmed by sounds that had no right to be heard in this place or time. Weapons clashed, pistols boomed as if he was in the midst of battle, commanding a ship of doomed men with no hope of winning the day. Just as in his nightmares.
He kept moving as the onslaught continued. He ran for his life, fleeing before the pain began again.
He burst out of a gateway but couldn’t break free of the memories. The stink of battle enveloped him, and he ran until a wall stopped him. He clutched at the brickwork, then sank to his knees, covered his head, and prayed for death to take him quickly this time.
Thirteen
Matilda shook William. She shook him harder than she ever should and tried to lift his face from his bent knees. She was so afraid. It wasn’t natural for a grown man to be huddled against a crumbling wall like this, cowering and muttering to himself. He made no sense.
“Billy. Billy. What has happened to you?”