Page 32 of Marrying a Marquess (Widows of Mayfair #3)

His arms flailed around and he yelled, “No!”

“Easy. It’s Priscilla. You are safe.”

“Priscilla?” His eyes focused on her. “What are you doing in my bed?”

Her heart eased at hearing his voice almost back to normal. What was he dreaming about? He sounded like a terrified boy. Had something happened to him when he was young?

“You are in my bed.”

“Your bed. What am I doing in your bed?”

“You don’t remember?”

He sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands down his face. “Give me a minute.”

And so she waited, her hand still resting on his warm chest. It rose and fell with his breaths. The beat of his heart thumped against it in perfect rhythm.

“I’m sorry. Was I dreaming?”

“Yes. Did someone do something to you?”

“It’s not something I talk about.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Priscilla. Let it go. It’s nothing. It happened a long time ago. I hardly dream about it anymore.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” he huffed.

“Tell me about it?” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

He closed his eyes tight and shook his head. “I can’t. It’s awful and embarrassing. I’ve never told anyone.”

“You can trust me,” she said as she touched his cheek, and his hand clasped hers.

“I know I can. It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of pride and humiliation. It’s also about anger and feeling inadequate and damaged.”

“Does that even make sense?” she questioned.

“To me, it does.”

“Perhaps if you unburden yourself, it will help. And I’ll understand you better.”

He choked and cleared his throat. “I highly doubt it.”

“Please? The thought of you having these nightmares when you are alone saddens me. I want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” he groaned.

“How do you know?”

“Because I do.” His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. One of acquiescence. “You will be the death of me.”

She took their pillows, fluffed them, and placed them against the back of the headboard. “Sit.”

Her hands rummaged around the bed. Finding her nightgown, she pulled it on over her head.

She felt this was not a conversation requiring nakedness—quite the opposite.

They both rested against the pillows, and beneath the covers, they held hands.

She squeezed his, giving him the courage to tell his story.

“You know I was expelled from Eton for fighting.”

“Yes.”

“He was the son of an Austrian Prince. The day my father dropped me off at Eton, I was thirteen and eager to make friends and earn good grades—anything to make my father proud.” He paused, and Priscilla could sense the difficulty in his voice; he had to force the words out.

“Holzer was two grades ahead of me and befriended me immediately. He was popular with his classmates, so I didn’t understand why he wanted to befriend me—until I found out why. ”

She squeezed his hand, giving him the courage to continue his story.

“My roommate became ill and went home. I don’t know what happened, but he never returned, nor did I get a new roommate. One night, I awoke to find Holtzer standing over me. I jumped right up still groggy from sleep but when he threw the first punch.”

She wrapped an arm across his chest and leaned her head on his shoulder, hoping she could ease his burden somehow. “I’m so sorry.”

“I fought him off. I may have been smaller, but I had much to lose.” He gulped.

“I locked my door every night, but he picked the lock. I could never sleep, I had to stay awake prepared to fight him when he arrived. Which he always did. I don’t know why he chose me, but I think he craved the battle of wills and strength.

It lasted most of my first year at Eton.

The crazy thing was, I knew that if he was coming to my room at night, then he wasn’t doing it to anyone else.

I spent that year sticking to him like ticks to a dog. ”

Her throat burned from her tears. How had he survived the sleep deprivation, the fighting, and the strain of knowing this boy would come for him night after night?

Every sound in the room ceased to exist. All she heard was Nick’s ragged breathing.

Her heart ached for the boy of thirteen and the man of thirty-six.

He’d been living with these memories for years.

“When I returned for my second year, I’d grown a foot and put on two stone.

This time the physical odds were in my favor.

So I knew fighting him off would be much easier.

But after several nights went by and he didn’t show up, I began prowling the halls looking for him.

One night I finally saw him enter a room, I burst in after him.

” He paused, inhaled and exhaled. “Holzer confided in me that day that he had come to me nightly the year before hoping I would beat that part of him, the part that liked to see pain in others, out of him. I felt sorry for him. Until he said it couldn’t be beaten out of him, and that was why he’d sought out someone else.

I’m ashamed to say I beat him badly that night, which brought on my expulsion.

The only good thing about me getting thrown out of Eton was that Holzer returned to Austria and never came back to Eton. ”

“Oh, Nick.”

She snuggled closer. “You should be proud of yourself for standing up to that bully. You following him and fighting him saved other boys from what you went through and possibly worse.”

“The boy whose room I followed Holzer into appeared shocked to find us there. He had no idea who Holzer was which gave me much relief. He is now an earl and I often wonder if he thinks about that night. Or wonders what the hell it was all about.”

“Do you see this earl now?”

“Yes. He attends most of the same functions we do. He is unmarried and, as far as I know, is not courting anyone. The earl is affable and well-liked by the ladies. He also belongs to my pugilism club.”

“Hmmm. I didn’t know you boxed. Will tell me about that later? Because right now, I’d like to ask you something, if I may?”

“You may, and I’ll try to answer.”

“Several times, you told me I deserve someone better than you. Or that you can’t be the man I want you to be. What did you mean?”

His body stilled. She didn’t think he breathed or his heart beat, though that was impossible.

“It’s because it’s true. I’m damaged. Some days, I wake up and don’t want to get out of bed. Other times, I have excessive energy, or my demons plague me, or I hate myself, and I visit my pugilism club. I fight to control my emotions when they are too much to bear.”

“How often do you box?” There were so many questions she wanted to ask him about the things he just told her, but she went with the least intrusive. Perhaps there would come at time when she got the answers to the rest.

“Several times per week at Gentleman Jackson’s Club. I box with the earl I told you about and Blackstone. Blackstone joined shortly before he married Emmeline.”

“Does it truly help?”

He tightened his arms around her. “It does. Though it’s clearly not a miracle cure if I’m still battling Holzer in my dreams.”

Tears leaked from her eyes, landing on Nick’s chest. And they still flowed from her eyes as she closed them and succumbed to sleep.