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Ava studied him. His eyes seemed distant, and he had a pained look on his face.

“I left for the army when I was only a boy,” he said.

“That must have been quite hard on you,” Ava whispered.

“It was. In my first year, I watched a lot of boys like myself die in battle. No one cared that they died. If fifty boys died today, tomorrow we would return to the battlefield and continue fighting. Theo, William, Magnus, and I knew that every day we survived was nothing short of a miracle. We could well die and no one would lose sleep. We were only boys, but we had witnessed awful things.”

Ava was moved to tears. She could only imagine young Edwin carrying firearms and trying to stay alive.

“I earned several scars on the battlefield,” he continued. “There are several scars on my body and face, and I got them all while I fought for king and country. However, none of them was quite as deadly as the one that runs across my face down to my chin.”

He motioned to the side of his face that was covered with the mask.

“How did you get the scar?” she asked.

He winced at her question, and she instantly regretted it.

“You do not have to respond. I am truly sorry,” she murmured.

“No.” He rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for, I assure you.”

Ava sighed in relief.

“The memory is rather intense,” he admitted.

“Then you truly do not have to share it,” she assured him.

“No, I must,” he insisted. “I know you are bothered by the mask, and I want you to know the reason behind it.”

Ava nodded.

“I was part of a team that rescued a family that had been held captive by the Spanish army. We were only just returning the captives to our camp when they attacked.”

“Who? Your enemies?”

Edwin shook his head. “The captives. Unbeknownst to us, we had been tricked, and our enemies had been disguised as captives.”

Ava gasped in shock.

“We let down our guard, so we were caught off guard. Only a few of us carried weapons—I was lucky to be one of the few. The man who caused this scar…” He traced a finger across his mask. “He was wielding a sword and tried to cut off my head.”

Ava clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle another gasp. “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was. But back then, I was only happy to be sharp with my gun. I shot him in an instant, but I did not dodge his sword fast enough. He slashed my face as he went down.”

“Oh no!” Ava breathed, pressing her palm against his mask.

“I do not want you to pity me,” he warned.

“I don’t pity you. All I can think of is the immense strength you possess,” she said.

It was true. Only a brave man would return from such a battle and carry on living despite Society’s judgment. Maybe this was why he appeared so cold and emotionless.

“When I returned from the war, I was not expecting that my mask would make me a pariah.”

“You know how superficial the ton can be,” she responded.

“Indeed. It did not take me long to realize it, and I immediately got a mask to cover my terrifying face.”