Page 29 of The Captive
Had he eaten anything since he’d disappeared into the mews in the last of the day’s light?
“‘Like a fiend in a cloud, with howling woe,’” he quoted, “‘After night I do crowd, And with night will go.’ From thePoetical Sketches.”
“Not very soothing. Try something else, and this time read it, please, do not draw upon the gloomy reaches of your memory.” She leaned back against the bookshelf, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes, the better to hear the beauty of the poetry and ignore the grouch reading it.
“‘He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, and mocks my loss of liberty…’ I cannot read this.”
He held out the book, and Gilly would have bet her favorite silk shawl he’d never opened it. He’d been quoting all the while. The bleakness in his eyes was unnerving.
“Today? When I did not come home?” he said, staring at the little book. “I was waiting.”
He was a foot taller than Gilly, battle hardened, and capable of meanness. He’d killed for King and Country, and endured all manner of privations in captivity, but at that moment, he was…uncertain.
“What were you waiting for?”
“The park…it wasn’t safe.”
She took the poetry from his grasp. “Explain this to me, Your Grace. I do not take your meaning.”
“I rode to Carlton House through the parks, to avoid the streets, the shops, the people…at midday, nobody’s in the park.”
“And later in the day, everybody who is anybody is in the park.” She took his arm and steered him back toward the fire, which was roaring merrily, thanks to his attentions. “You did not want to deal with the awkward questions and the well-meant stupidity.”
He frowned down at her. “I have underestimated you.”
“Most do. I prefer it that way.”
“As a widow, you’re subjected to awkward questions too, aren’t you?”
Gilly wanted to see his eyes, because she sensed his inquiry had hidden, gnarled roots, so she took a seat on the sofa and patted the place beside her.
Had Helene intended that her husband be left with awkward questions? Had she grown weary of the awkward questions related to his captivity? Was that why she’d made the choices she had?
“One isn’t supposed to be a happy widow,” Gilly said, certain in her bones Mercia would not judge her for the admission. “One might be merry, after several years’ bereavement, or peaceful, or content, but not happy. Perhaps you’ll consider me unnatural and limit my influence on Lucille, but I am a happy widow.”
He settled beside her, gingerly, as if the sofa were too hot to sit upon, and Gilly heard the poem again in her head:“He stretches out my golden wing, and mocks my loss of liberty.”“What was your report about, Your Grace?”
“Nothing of any import, old army business.”
“Then you won’t mind if I sit here and read for a bit while you work on it?”
His expression shifted, as if he were frowning because he was thinking too hard, not because she’d displeased him.
“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” she said, opening the book to a random page. “I can keep quiet, you know, when I choose to.”
“I’ve written enough for now.”
“Then find your own book,” she said, leafing through hers. “Find an old friend, and renew your acquaintance.”
He wandered off while Gilly chose a nice long poem about flowers and skies and lambs. She would not have remarked his return, except this time, he sat down like he didn’t expect the sofa to collapse under his weight. He sat close enough that the fold of his dressing gown casually draped over the hem of Gilly’s shawl.
He held another small volume, but stared into the fire, the book unopened in his hands. When Gilly yawned a half hour later and looked up again, he hadn’t moved in the entire time she’d been reading.
“I’m off to seek my bed. You should do likewise, Your Grace. Morning will be here before we’re ready for it.”
“I don’t advise rousing me from my slumbers,” he said, eyeing his book. “I take exception to violations of my privacy.”
“I do apologize, and it won’t happen again. Next time, you’ll wedge a chair under the door in addition to locking it, won’t you?” She rose and put her book on his desk.
