Page 119 of Marry in Scandal

He told her how in one of their first engagements, first their major, then the captain, then the lieutenant had been killed. “And so it was up to me, Lily—I was next in command. And it was—” He tried to describe it: the deafening boom of the cannons, the incessant rattle of gunfire, men and horses screaming, blood and sinew, smoke and confusion—they couldn’t even see the enemy, but they could hear them yelling, closing in.

“I froze, Lily. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there in that hell on earth and... I froze.”

“You were how old?”

“Eighteen, but what does that matter? I—”

“And how long did you freeze for?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like forever.”

“And then what happened?”

He stared at her. She was so calm. “We fought.”

“You gave orders?”

“Yes.”

“The men obeyed them?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And who won?”

“It was just a battle.”

“Did you win?”

“Our side did, yes. But the casualties were horrific.”

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “You can’t help that. You did your duty.”

He jerked his head away from her. “You don’t understand. Ifroze, Lily, and mendiedbecause of it! Because of me.”

“Nonsense. I have to agree with Mr. Bryant. It waswarthat got those men killed. You were an inexperienced eighteen-year-old boy, thrust into a command you weren’t ready for, and so what if you froze for a minute or two—anyone would. And do you honestly think that slight delay would have made any real difference?”

His jaw dropped.

She kissed him softly. “Mrs. Prewitt told me you’ve always expected more of yourself than is humanly possible, and I see now she was right. Think about it, my darling; imagine any other eighteen-year-old boy thrust into the situation you faced. I doubt one in a hundred would collect himself—”

“Ifroze!”

“—would collect himself after a few minutes and go on to give orders and win a battle.”

“I didn’t win—”

“Your side did. Don’t quibble.”

He stared at her and thought about what she’d said. It sounded so... reasonable when she said it. And yet for years he’d flayed himself with guilt, reliving those moments of sheer, frozen panic... Blaming himself for his friends’—and other men’s—deaths. The nightmares had gone on for years.

Looking back now, eighteen seemed so young.

“You thought everyone here would blame you, didn’t you? That’s why you never came home.”

He didn’t answer.

“You thought that because you couldn’t forgive yourself, nobody else could. Edward, my love, there is nothingtoforgive. You did the best you could, and that’s all that anyone can do.” She let that sink in and added, “Those other boys made their own choices, and it’s arrogance to blame yourself. I expect it’s being the heir. Actually I think you did more than anyone could expect.”