Page 12 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“Oh… I just can’t do that at this time. I’m sorry!” Annette pushed him out of the room and into the corridor. “Please leave me alone. It’s all too much already.”

“Fair enough,” he told her door as she slammed it, shutting him out completely. There was nothing else to do but return downstairs, but he carried his concern about her with him.

Later that night

Dinner came and went, but Annette didn’t come down to join him. Worried, Allan went up to her room and knocked.

“Annette? I know you’re upset, but you do need to eat. You didn’t have breakfast and have now missed dinner.” The last thing he needed was for her to fall ill on his watch. “Have you had a tray up?”

“Go away, Peregrine. I don’t want to see you.” Her voice was muffled, for she refused to open the door.

“Why? Have I done something to upset you?” If he had, he’d make it right.

“No, but the more familiar I grow with you, the more I might be fond of you, and I can’t risk my heart and soul again if something horrid should befall you.

” A slight thud sounded on the other side of the door as if she’d bumped her forehead or a hand against the wood. “Just go away. Leave me to my grief.”

“And yet you would be alone. We married so that would never happen.”

“Your Grace?”

He turned about at the hesitant sound of a female voice. “Who are you?”

“Molly, Your Grace. Lady Masterson’s maid. She won’t let me in either.”

“Ah, I see. Anyone whom she is not comfortable with is firmly on this side of the door.” He nodded. “Well, I am a patient man. Go find a footman. Tell him I require a chair.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The sound of her footsteps indicated the maid had gone to do his bidding.

Two minutes later, the footsteps returned with another set.

“I have brought the chair, Your Grace.” This from a footman.

“Quite prompt. Thank you. Set it in front of the duchess’s door.”

“Done, Your Grace. Just here.”

“Thank you. You and Molly may go. I’ll stay here for a bit.” He felt about the immediate area with his cane. When he located the chair, he rested a hand on the high back. “And Molly? Bring up a tray of food for Her Grace. I’ll make certain she receives it.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

Allan sat on the chair and knocked on the door again. “Annette? Will you talk to me?”

There was no answer.

He bit back the urge to huff with frustration. “Will you promise me to eat your dinner if I remain on this side of the door? At least in this way, you won’t be alone in a strange house.”

“Go away, Peregrine. I don’t need your pity.” Even with the barrier of the door, her voice was small and tearful.

“I’m not giving you that. I’m showing support.” But his heart went out to her. He well knew what it felt like when life spun out of control. “Our existence, and the living of it, is oftentimes difficult. That doesn’t mean we need to walk that path by ourselves.”

Nothing but silence met his ears.

He rested an ankle on a knee. It was best to be comfortable.

“I am fortunate in the fact that I have a network of truly remarkable men to call friends. Without Pennington, Ashbury, and Huxley, I’m not sure what would have become of me over the years since losing my sight.

” For long moments, he remained silent as he thought of how those men and others had given new life to his existence.

“Then through the Lyon’s Den, those men were each married, and at least two of them had less between them than you and I do. ”

“I met Lady Ashbury today. She was a lovely woman, and I think she’s increasing, but even that possibility terrifies me. Children can—and often do—perish before their parents.” There was so much anguish in the statement, his chest tightened.

There was a story behind those words. Hopefully, she would trust him with it. “Yes, but there are also possibilities for wonderful moments. So you see, you and I are not that different as a couple. Strangers oftentimes have the strongest unions.”

Eventually.

“I can’t risk it. My last marriage ended horribly, and I’m still suffering from that abrupt end, where there was no closure, and with grief and guilt.”

At least she was honest. Allan nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” So many tears rode on that one-word answer that he frowned, for he felt ineffectual.

“Fair enough. My last relationship ended because the woman didn’t think she could stand being leg-shackled to a blind man. She believed it would be a horribly strained life, and she didn’t wish to jump into that large of a commitment.”

Long moments of silence stretched onward before she answered.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair and cruel of her. One doesn’t need sight to live a full life.”

“While that is true, it is a complication, so I understood. No one should toss one’s life away on a man who can’t see.”

“Such gammon. Blindness isn’t a sin, Peregrine, nor is it a prison. You seem to have acclimated to it well and certainly managed to impress me today.”

His chest swelled slightly from her praise. “Yet you have locked yourself in your room for fear of coming to know me better.”

“It is something that is familiar to me, and I don’t know when that will change.” Her voice was small and tearful.

At that moment, Molly returned with a tray full of tea and various treats, along with a modified dinner course.

Allan stood and retrieved his cane. “Since you are clearly not in the mindset for conversation, and since the day has been stressful for both of us, I am going to retire.” He gestured to the vacant chair.

As much as he understood how his new wife felt, there was nothing he could do for her unless she wanted his assistance or support.

“However, Molly has brought up dinner and tea. It’s just outside your door on a chair.

I will check on you in the morning.” With a nod, he thanked the maid, and once her footsteps faded along the corridor, he rested a palm on the door.

“Goodnight, Annette. I hope you have a restful sleep.”

And I hope I haven’t made a mistake in doing this to both of us.