Free The Baron's Betrayal by Callie Hutton Page B

to wipe the perspiration from his face. “Mrs. Gibbons always wanted me to talk about my experience. Do none of you realize that bad memories are a part of life? If one has no bad memories, then he most likely hasn’t lived long enough.”
    Marion stood and sat alongside him on the bed, giving him distance. His anger was most likely in direct proportion to his embarrassment at again appearing less than a man.
    He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, his bent elbows resting on his thighs. After several moments of silence, he said, “The frigate under my command came upon pirates attacking a Portuguese merchant ship. We battled for more than three hours. We had crippled the pirates when a fire broke out on our lower deck where the guns and gunpowder were stored.
    “It became apparent that the fire would soon rage out of control, so I ordered the men to abandon ship. Before the last man had left, the gunpowder exploded and I was thrown into the sea. Both the frigate and the pirate ship sank.”
    Marion fought the urge to touch him. Tristan had been terrified of fire since his family had perished in a blaze. To think he had had to face that horror again made her stomach roil. Though somehow she knew any comforting on her part would be viewed by him as another sign of his weakness.
    How she yearned to wrap her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. Not just for his comfort, but for hers. He’d suffered so much in his life, yet he refused to accept any of her compassion. To Tristan, any show of sympathy on her part would be viewed as pity. The last thing she wished to convey to him.
    He shot her a wry smile. “Now that I have confessed all, I should feel up to snuff, with no worries or future nightmares?”
    How to respond to that? His tone was obviously sarcastic, however, she couldn’t help but believe talking about his troubles would, indeed, help with his nightmares. Reaching the Tristan she knew so well, behind the façade of the man he’d become, would definitely be a dance of two steps forward and one step back.
    “You may scoff, but keeping all of that bottled up inside you could not be good for your health.”
    “Ah. My health. As if talking would bring back my sight.” He shook his head and stood. “If you will excuse me, madam, I wish to attempt a return to sleep.”
    Frustrated, Marion climbed to her feet. “As you wish. I will see you at breakfast.”
    “Yes, indeed. I will see you at breakfast as well.”
    Tied in knots, and with no response that would help, she crossed the room and closed the door quietly.
    …
    “My lady, the Duchess of Manchester and Lady Abigail Fox have inquired as to whether you are at home.” Mason stood in all his butler-like stiffness as he announced Penelope and Abigail’s arrival the next afternoon.
    “Oh, heavens. Yes, please, show them right in.” Marion leaped from her chair, casting aside the book she was trying very hard to read.
    Her thoughts had been going in circles since she had arisen that morning. A visit from her sister-in-law and sister was just the thing she needed to pull her out of her doldrums. And perhaps they might even have some advice for her.
    “Marion, how lovely to see you!” Penelope hurried into the room, her rounded belly a slight bump under her gown.
    Marion hugged her back. “Yes, it is lovely to see you, as well.” She moved back and studied her. “You are beginning to show.”
    “Yes, but I think this one will be a bit smaller than Robert. Perhaps we’re to be blessed with a daughter this time.”
    “That would be wonderful.” Marion was immediately taken by a cry from Penelope’s son, Robert, who reached out for her with his chubby arms extended, his fingers flexing.
    “My goodness, Robert, I am your auntie, too,” Abigail said as she handed the wiggling child over to Marion. At the early stages of her first pregnancy, Abigail’s belly was already larger than Penelope’s.
    “There you are, my boy.