Page 95 of The Danger of Desire
He glanced away. “It was only after I graduated that I had to find other ways of... dealing with the night. For some reason, I don’t seem to have the nightmares when I sleep during the day.”
“So it’s darkness that sets them off? Can’t you just keep a lantern burning throughout the night?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried that. But it’s actually the quiet as much as the darkness that causes me trouble. I used to try to sleep at home at night, to be normal.”
He faced her, determined to drive home what she was dealing with. “But I stopped attempting that after I punched a footman when the man tried to wake me from the throes of a bad dream. He quit the next morning, and I realized I had to do whatever I could to keep the night at bay.”
“But even with your attempts, you still have the nightmares. I mean...” She colored. “You had one at the house party.”
“Yes. That’s why I avoid house parties: The country is too quiet, too... utterly dark. Everyone retires earlier, and I’m left alone to try to keep from sleeping. As long as I’m in town and I’m busy, I’m better. But in the country...”
He couldn’t suppress a shudder.
“So what do you do when you have to go to your estate?” she asked.
“I only go there rarely. I hire an excellent staff, so I need only visit my properties once a month to deal with necessary affairs.”
“So, no hunting, no leisurely country visits.”
“Occasionally my bachelor friends and I go to the hunting box in Shropshire, but none of us is actually much interested in hunting. So we mostly drink and play cards and—”
“Enjoy the local light-skirts?” she said tartly.
“Something like that. But I never have such parties at Lindenwood Castle. There, it’s all business. I leave early in the morning as soon as I come back from the stews, sleep in the carriage on the way to the estate, and meet with my estate manager as soon as I arrive.”
He walked over to stoke up the fire. “We spend the late afternoon discussing matters. Then I dine with the local magistrate, and I go to the tavern for the rest of the night. Early the next morning, I climb into my carriage, I sleep all the way back to town, and once I arrive, I head off for the stews or my club or some social engagement.”
“That is an awful way to live,” she said.
The words startled him. He’d never thought much about it, but she was right. It was. “But it’s the wayIlive.” He stared into the hearth. “Now you know why I haven’t married before. It’s no life for a wife.”
“No, it’s not.” As the words cut into him, she added, “It’s no life for you, either.”
“Ah, but I’m used to it.”
She left the bed and Flossie jumped to the floor. “Are you? It seems to me that this patchwork way of dealing with your fear isn’t very successful. You still have nightmares sometimes, don’t you?”
He debated whether to tell her the truth. But there was no longer any point in prevaricating. If she knew everything, she would be able to make her own adjustments.
“Actually, ever since I took the trip to Portugal to find my cousin Niall last year, the nightmares have grown worse. I assume it was because I was cooped up in a cabin at sea for weeks, with no real means of entertainment and a very tight space to contend with.”
“That makes sense. Ship cabins are damp, cold, and small, with no windows. Like cellars.”
He managed a thin smile. Only she, who’d traveled so much in her life, could understand that. “Exactly. I think it dredged everything up. Now I have the dreams even when I’m in the stews, if I happen to fall asleep there. And as I’m getting older, it’s becoming harder to stay awake all night.”
“Which is precisely why you can’t go on the way you have.” She put her hand on his arm. “You’ve got to find some way to end them.”
“Why didn’tIthink of that?” he said sarcastically.
“Sorry.” Hot color filled her cheeks. “I know I’m being presumptuous, acting as if you can snuff them out like a candle, when clearly you cannot or you would have done so before now. But there must be a way to make nights more tolerable for you.” She glanced away. “I mean, surely it helps some for you to have bed companions.”
“Not unless they’re dancing on my head,” he quipped. “And whores do a lot of things, but not that.”
She eyed him askance.
“Right. Not funny.” He let out a breath. “In the early days, it helped.” His gut clenched. “Until the night I woke up screaming with my hands around some poor girl’s throat. Apparently she’d tried to wake me, and in my nightmare I’d thought that it was Pickering come to let me out. Thankfully, I didn’t hurt her—just frightened her. But I couldn’t go back tothatbrothel for a long while.”
“So you don’t sleep at the brothels.”
