An empty bottle lay at his feet.
“Good heavens!” she cried, appalled and shocked at the sight of the powerful man crumpled in a heap. Her fear disappeared in the face of a creature she could only pity, and she ran forward and put a hand on his arm.
“Lord Winterbourne,” she said, shaking his arm and willing him to wake.
He groaned, turning his head away.
“Lord Winterbourne!” she said again, her voice sharper now. “My lord!”
He blinked at that, his eyes bleary and unfocused. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he mumbled, his voice slurred and heavy, leaning his head back against the wall. “Go ‘way. Don’t want a creature ...” He shook his head, and Belle tried hard not to feel affronted at being spoken about in such a way. “Don’t want ...” His words trailed off and she only grab snatched of them. “More dead than alive ...”
She gasped and wondered what exactly the man thought of her if he could speak so, if the idea of marrying her had reduced him to ... to this.
“It ain’t you ‘e speaks of, m’lady,” Charlie mumbled, shaking his head and looking at the marquess who had fallen asleep again with pity in his eyes. “T’is ‘imself.”
“What?” Belle looked up at him, wanting desperately to understand this unhappy man, to help him in some way.
Charlie shrugged. “T’is the war,” he said, with a sorrowful smile. “The things we saw that day, no man should see. Bad enough to be one o’ thousands, followin’ orders, for king and country. Worse to be the poor devil sending the men to their deaths, and then surviving ye’self, against all odds.” Charlie shook his head, thrusting his hands into his pockets, the freezing air clouding around his face as he spoke. “Blood on ‘is hands, see. All ‘is friends and comrades, all dead, and many of ‘em at ‘is command. That’s what ‘e thinks, anyhow. Eddie tried so damned ‘ard t’ save ‘em, and when ‘e couldn’t, he tried t’ get ‘imself killed beside ‘em. Stuff ‘e did would make ye ‘air curl. But nothin’ touched him. Not until that last shell, least ways, then no one was surprised when ‘e were gone. Everyone reckoned ‘e was dead.”
“Except you,” Belle whispered, realising now the strength of the bond that lay between these two very different men.
Charlie shrugged again, and everything seemed strangely silent. A horse stamped, shifting in the comfort of its stall, and then ... peace. The snow fell over everything in perfect, pristine flakes. It seemed to be purifying everything it touched, wiping away sins, covering past mistakes, forgiving everything ugly in the world.
If only it were that simple.
“Lord Winterbourne is the bravest man I’ve ever known, m’lady,” he said after a while. “Saved my life a time or two, I can tell ye. But e’s afraid of living, afraid to feel anythin’. Reckons ‘e don’t deserve it neither, if I know anything.”
“The poor man,” Belle whispered.
Charlie nodded and then gave her a rueful grin. “Aye, ye say that now, but it don’t stop ‘im bein’ a right devil to deal with. He’ll try an’ drive ye off. He’ll swear and cuss and make ye wild, and it’ll take a stubborn and hard-headed woman to get through to ‘im. If ye quit on ‘im, t’ will only things worse. P’raps you might not think it worth the effort? Wouldn’t blame ye, not when ye didn’t know ‘im afore.”
He was looking at her now, a considering look in his eyes and Belle knew she’d been given a warning. Either stay for the campaign or go home now. Any half measures would only do more harm than good.
Belle hauled in a breath, feeling the icy night air biting at her lungs. “Stubborn and hard-headed, you say?” She stared back at her husband, a man who was broken rather more thoroughly than any visible marks could attest to. Well, he’d done his part, he’d been brave so that the people of this country were safe. Now it was her turn to be brave on his behalf.
Getting to her feet, she cast Charlie one last anxious glance, seeing hope flickering in his eyes, and hauled in a breath.
“Lord Winterbourne!” Her voice was strong and a touch strident and it rang out, echoing around the still quiet of the snow-covered stables. To her relief, the man jolted slightly and woke, staring up at her, all be it a trifle blearily. “This, sir, if you may remember, is our wedding night. So far, I’m not impressed.” She folded her arms and scowled at him, hoping that she looked furious when she was, in fact, quaking in her boots. His expression didn’t change, though she thought there was a little surprise showing in his eyes. “However, if this is how you deem it fit for us to spend our first night as man and wife, I suppose I must endeavour to support you.”
Her husband’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as Belle regarded the freezing ground with distaste. With a grimace and a sharp intake of breath as the snow seeped through her skirts, she sat down beside him.
“What the devil are you doing?” he demanded, turning to stare at her, apparently torn between incredulity and annoyance, and sounding rather more sober than he had moments earlier. She noticed Charlie backing away out of sight, and Belle turned to stare back at the marquess.
“If my husband sees fit to freeze himself to death on the night of our marriage, as his wife, it is my duty to remain at his side.” The words were harsh and sarcastic, and she saw the bewilderment in his expression with satisfaction. She’d surprised him, at least. Belle folded her arms and did not need to play-act to make her teeth start to chatter. “So, we’ll both catch pneumonia together,” she added, the words distorted by the fact she really was shivering in earnest. “That should please you enormously, as being married to me is obviously too horrendous to actually live with.” This last was said with real bitterness, and despite everything that Charlie had said, she couldn’t help but feel that he resented her, this marriage, all of it. Not that she blamed him, he had been trapped after all, but couldn’t he at least try? Even a little?
There was silence now, and Belle wrapped her arms around herself, watching the snow falling and wondering if she had the slightest idea of what she was doing. She was freezing and miserable and she didn’t know how to help the troubled man at her side.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were so quiet and so surprising that for a moment, she thought she’d imagined them. Belle turned her head, though, and for once, the marquess looked back at her without anger, without derision or contempt or irritation, or any of the things she’d seen before. Now, he just looked lost and alone and so full of guilt that her heart went out to him. In that moment, she knew she would do anything, anything at all, to help him, to bring her husband back to life.