“Not if you don’t wish to speak of them.” She didn’t look at him. “Trey never wants to talk of such, especially to me. I can’t say that I blame him. It must have been terrifying to stand there facing down the enemy, not knowing if you’ll live or die.”
“Quite.” She didn’t need to know of the deep, profound fear that knocked a man’s knees together or caused him to shit his pants the night before the last charge would begin. A lady of breeding shouldn’t be privy to the sheer number of men who had died on those battlefields, the way their blood ran like rivers over the land, or how boys as young as sixteen bolted from cowardice only to be shot in the back by a superior officer for desertion.
To say nothing of the French brutality and torture that happened if one were unfortunate enough to fall prisoner.
“No man should ever have to experience the ravages of war, whether they agree with the politics behind it or not,” Finn said quietly. “The only thing war serves is the rich and the legislators and the unscrupulous merchants who transport goods on demand for a price.” Bitterness clogged his throat, choking him on the sour taste. “There is money to be made when war wages, and none of that coin falls to the men fighting or the people left behind to pick up the pieces.”
“Oh, Finn, I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” Jane turned toward him and threaded her arm through his, regardless of the crush of carriages around them. The scent of orange blossoms wafted through the air. “Forgive me if my naiveté has caused you grief.”
“There is nothing to forgive. The effects of the war will continue to be felt for years to come, I’ll wager.” Ignoring her for a time, he guided the horses through the maze of carriages and pedestrians until they’d cleared the mess that was Rotten Row. “Did you wish to linger on the promenade, or should we follow the other paths through the park to more quiet, private locales?”
“A spot removed from the throng is most welcome.” The smoky quality of her voice sent gooseflesh over his skin. How he wished he could feel that desire in his prick and stones. Just once and then he’d be satisfied with his lot.
As soon as the thought knocked about his mind, he realized it wasn’t true. Not at all, and not when this tempting, caring, compassionate bit of womanhood sat beside him all peaches and light with her warmth seeping into his side.
“Very well. Let’s find a shady place to park. Then I shall answer any question you put forth to me.” Upon his honor he would, even if it were distasteful to him. She deserved that.
“I’ll hold you to it.” Then she smiled at him and his world came about right once more.
“I don’t doubt it.” He clicked his tongue and pulled on the reins, guiding the mares on a path away from the hub of polite society. “In the meanwhile, tell me the significance of that heart pendant you wear. I’ve seen it twice now.” The colorful cloisonne bits sparkled and winked in the sunlight each time she moved or drew a breath. “It’s quite pretty.”
“Thank you.” She touched a gloved fingertip to the heart. “It belonged to my grandmother. Oh, she’d had adventures in her day, and I’ll wager she hadn’t even told me all her stories before she died.” A smile lingered in her melodical tones, and it brought one to his face. “She was a pillar of strength and the one I turned to when times were rough.”
“I remember my grandmothers. One died when I was a boy, but oh, she was a veritable whirling dervish. Managed us all.”
“That was my gran too.” Jane giggled. “When I was a young girl, after my mother died, my grandmother used to tell me stories of long-ago knights and maidens who were rescued by those brave men.” She shrugged. “They were tales to help me forget the pain of loss, I’m sure, but I ate them up and begged for more.”
“The root of your love for fairy stories,” he said softly with a nod.
“Of course.”
“I had a similar experience, though it was my grandfather who fed my addiction, with those same tales of knights and King Arthur you probably heard.”
“To live in such a gallant age.” A sigh escaped her, and she pulled her arm from his. Immediately, Finn missed her touch. “Grandmother was the foundation stone of our family. On her death bed, she gave me this pendant, told me to always follow my heart regardless of what was expected of me, regardless of duty. I asked her why, for I couldn’t fathom a time in my life that I’d need to heed that advice.”
“What did she say?” He was enthralled in her tale as if she read from the most popular book of fiction.
“She laughed and said I should save it as a reminder for when the time comes.” Again, Jane passed a fingertip over the heart. “I’m still waiting for that crossroad.”
“Perhaps it’s a good thing you haven’t encountered it yet.”
“Yes, but I know that it’s coming.” A touch of despair had entered her voice.
“How do you know?”
“My father wishes for me to eventually accept the Duke of Ballantrae as a husband. Right now, he wants me to do the pretty and flirt with the man at the next social event we attend together.” She stared at her hands which we’re twisted in her lap. “I’m in a quandary over what I should do.”
Choose me over him.
A shaft of jealousy lanced through his chest so sharp he caught his breath. His fingers tightened on the reins. The horses tossed their heads and slowed their forward momentum. Of course, that’s what fate would do to him. When he’d found a woman who might accept him for who he was, she was all but promised to another. By increments, he forced himself to relax. The horses regained their previous momentum, but his breath was labored. Each inhalation hurt.
“What is there to think about? If a duke is interested in you, then don’t hesitate to take advantage of that.” Good Lord, why did it hurt so much when Jane was nothing more to him than a friend? “You shall have a nice life as a duchess.”
“At this moment, I don’t want that life.”
He could hardly hear her barely-there whisper and was obliged to lean closer. “Why not?” When she didn’t answer, he nudged her shoulder. “Tell me. I might not be every woman’s dream of a perfect husband, but I’m a good listener.” As he uttered those words, he felt himself falling, tumbling, being buffeted about inside a funnel of darkness that sucked at him, ever-pulling him downward into the dregs of depression.
I don’t wantthis life.