Page 80 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
“Dimitri Von Mortimer,” he said, holding out his hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs…?”
For a moment, Marie stood dumbfounded, eyes scanning for anything amiss and settling briefly on his shoulder and left eye, which he kept tightly shut. “My Lord,” she said, bobbing her head. “I’m surprised to see… I mean, it’s good to see you…” She shot a desperate look at Adeline.
“I apologise for startling you,” he added. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony. Any friend of Adeline’s…”
She laughed, high and awkward. “Sorry,” she rushed. “I just wasn’t expecting…”
“A monster?”
“Someone so… polite. Ordinary.”
At this, Dimitri smiled. He could see why she was friends with Adeline. “I take that as a compliment.”
She giggled, nerves still clearly frayed. “I should leave you to your evening,” she announced, “just give me a moment with Adeline…”
She grabbed her arm and steered her away, clearly having no idea he could still hear them when she whispered of “all the details,” and “oddly charming.” Dimitri made faces at the baby until they were done, eliciting bubbles of laughter when he made his mask move.
The two girls returned. “Goodnight, My Lord,” Marie said with a weak smile, grabbing hold of the pram again.
“Good luck with the baby!”
“Haha, thank you!”
She wheeled off down the cobblestone street and silence stretched behind her.
Dimitri turned to Adeline, still watching the space where her friend had been standing.
“That was Marie,” Adeline repeated, as if he hadn’t been paying attention. “My—”
“Your childhood best friend,” he finished. “You’ve mentioned her a few times. You said you grew apart after she had the baby?”
They had chatted as amiably as old friends might, but Dimitri had sensed something in her, a hesitation, a wall, something which he couldn’t quite put to words but felt nonetheless.
Adeline nodded, but her eyes were glistening. Dimitri’s chest tightened at the sight of it. “I may be extremely out of line here, and feel free to tell me to drop it, but I can’t help but feel... there’s more to it than that?”
Adeline’s lip trembled, her fingers coiling. “She wanted me to be a midwife. It had been about half a year since my mother’s death. I hadn’t attended a birth since. She thought that it was time, that one good experience would get me over the bad, but… I couldn’t. Every twinge she felt, every minor complaint… it would all send me into a panic. I tried to keep the fear locked away, but she could see it. And she couldn’t understand it. She was my best friend, going through this wonderful, scary thing, and I couldn’t be there for her. Then she had the baby, and didn’t have the easiest of times, and I felt guilty for that, too, because I could have helped, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t…” She sniffed into her scarf, and Dimitri whipped out another handkerchief. She blew into it noisily, mumbling an apology.
“Sorry for crying.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. You look terrible when you cry. Really evens the playing field.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“You owe me at least two handkerchiefs now, you know.”
“I’ve been meaning to give the other one back—”
“Don’t,” he said. “And you don’t need to apologise, either. Not to Marie, and not to me.”
“But I just—”
He cut her off, wrapping his arms around her, holding her against his chest. He could feel the warmth of her body against him, the weight of her breath. He had been held before, with increasing frequency of late, but this was the very first time he’d held someone like this, and a part of him wondered why people didn’t walk around strapped together, if they found a willing partner. He wanted to keep her against him forever.
“Hmm…” Adeline murmured into him.
“What is it?”
“You give really nice hugs for a skinny person.”
