Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(94)

Drake scrubbed the back of his hand over his face. “Do you ever have nightmares, Jones?”

Jones nodded. “Every day. Sometimes it’ll be in the dead of night. Other times I’ll be awake, sitting in this bed in the middle of the day and they’ll come upon me.”

A wave of relief filled him. There was solace in knowing he was not alone—that there were others who shared his struggle. For some time, he’d begun to think he was a madman who belonged in Bedlam. “How do you live with it?” Drake asked on a low whisper.

It was the first time Jones’ aqua gaze slid away from Drake, out to that window which had earlier consumed his attention. “I came back from the war without my arm. Upon my return, I learned my wife and son had died of a fever while I was gone. I wanted to die.” He looked back at Drake. “Do you know what kept me alive?”

Drake waited for the other man to continue. He tried to imagine the horror of returning from a war missing a limb, only to discover you’d also lost your wife and child. Jones was far braver than Drake. Drake knew he could never have survived the great losses that had been heaped upon Jones’ shoulders.

“Your wife kept me alive. Every week for three years she came and sat beside me. One week I didn’t kill myself because I wondered if she’d come back to visit. I told myself she was just a bored lady with nothing to do. Sure enough she came back. Then I made silent wagers with myself, betting how many weeks before she would disappear. The weeks passed, and by then I forgot about killing myself.”

Drake’s breath caught and lodged in his chest at the realization that this too was a man Emmaline had saved. By her presence alone, she had sustained Jones, pulled him from the precipice of darkness, and given him life. Drake was not very different from Jones. The difference being, Emmaline belonged to him. Her smile, her laughter filled both his and Jones’s lives and for that they both honored her.

It was Drake however, who had the right to hold her, cherish her, love her.

Love her.

God, why had he not allowed himself to acknowledge that thought until this moment? She, who was so free with her love, with her every emotion, deserved so much more than him. She deserved to be told regularly just how special she was.

“She is a remarkable woman,” Drake managed to say; forcing his thoughts back to Jones.

Jones tipped his head in acknowledgement. “You know Captain? I lost everything and everyone I loved. You have a reason to live. Trust me. You have your nightmares, we all do. And they’re always going to be with us, sir. But as long as you have her you’ve got something to live for.”

Drake felt his throat work. He did have something to live for…rather he had someone to live for. Someone he needed to see desperately in that moment.

Drake came to his feet quickly. “What are your feelings on leaving this behind and coming to work for my staff?”

Jones’ eyes revealed a gleam of desperate hope, which was quickly squashed by a dawning sense of reality.

“Not sure I’d be much help to your staff.” Jones’ words were bitter.

“I beg to differ, Jones. I’ve got need of help in my stable. I remember how good you were with the horses. I’m certain you’d grow accustomed to adjusting to your changed circumstances.”

That gleam of longing reignited in his eyes. Jones fairly licked his lips, clearly more enticed at the idea of being in the stables, where he’d always been comfortable.

Jones held out his hand. “It’d be an honor, Captain. A real honor.”

Drake accepted the hand in a firm shake. “I’ll see the arrangements made and have you sent for.”

He pulled out his fob, and started. He’d been at the hospital the better part of the day. “Good evening then, Jones.” He bowed his head.

“Captain,” Jones returned.

Drake took his leave. He needed to see his wife. Emmaline deserved to hear the words he’d withheld from her. She also deserved his thanks for bringing him to this place.

His musings were interrupted by the figure of a man who stepped suddenly into his path.

Drake’s feet ground to a quick halt.

The Duke of Mallen arched a dark brow, his expression stony. “What brings you here?” Mallen drawled.

Drake’s jaw set. He’d be damned if he would share something so personal with this man. He might be Emmaline’s brother but he was no friend of Drake’s, and certainly didn’t deserve such personal information. He could only imagine what the great, powerful duke would say if Drake responded with the truth; Oh, you see, I have frequent nightmares and remembrances of the war. I even occasionally lose control and…

“None of your business, Mallen.” He bit out. “What brings you here?”

Mallen cleared his throat. “I’ve always had a sense of regret I was unable to enlist and fight. I’ve felt guilt about the men who lost their lives, risked their limbs, when I was at home, safe and unaffected. I joined the Hospital Board upon my father’s passing.”

Drake started. He could appreciate what that admission cost Mallen. It would seem he knew his brother-in-law far less than he’d thought. It had never occurred to him the guilt Mallen, and perhaps other lords, would feel for not fighting.

His gaze held Mallen’s. “Trust me, you were better off.”

Mallen rubbed his chin. “Perhaps.”