Page 43 of The Duchess and the Beast
“I promise.”
“You say that now...” Sebastian grimaced, but Virtue's gaze remained gentle and full of grace.
With a tender gesture, she reached out and delicately swept a lock of hair away from his forehead, briefly exposing the scar that he so often hid beneath the fringe. She pressed her lips against it softly. “I will never judge you, Sebastian. You have my word.”
And he believed her. Although, by this point, there was no reason not to.
The reality of what had transpired between them still felt surreal to Sebastian. Not only had he finally made love to his wife, but he had done so unmasked. And even now, laying beside her, he felt no compulsion to hide his face—the mask lay forgotten, a relic of his past insecurities.
When Virtue had first revealed that she had seen his face already, it was not anger that had coursed through his veins, but a deep, penetrating dread. She had glimpsed him at his most vulnerable—witnessed what he considered his deepest shame. A notion that struck terror in his heart, and may have still left him reeling were it not for what she told him right after.
And that being, she didn’t mind.
In fact, she hadpleadedto see him unmasked again. That she thought him to look better without the mask than with, filled him with a kind of joy that he thought might never be his.
As to their lovemaking? Well, what needed to be said except that again, she rendered him utterly astounded. He had always been rough around the edges when it came to the intimacies reserved for the marital chamber, but ever since returning from the war, that level of savagery had seemed to intensify in him tenfold. It was what it took to keep him in thenow,and in the present.And it was one of the few times he would let his guard down completely, a risk to those who experienced it with him, and precisely the reason why he had been so hesitant to consummate his marriage with his wife.
Yet, she delighted in it. Yearned for it, even. Cherished it as much as he had. And now that it was over, and the two lay together on the soft carpet of the library, bodies intertwined like vines on an ancient arbor, he realized he had not overstepped as he feared he might. Why, the way she tenderly caressed his chest and pressed kisses along his throat while he spoke, he was near certain that before their night concluded, their passions would once more reignite.
Now, there was just one more thing left to do. One final step to dismantle all the barriers that had been cast up within their marriage. Though the thought pained him, he knew it was necessary—not for his own sake, but for hers, for she deservedevery happiness and fulfillment that he could bestow, no matter the cost.
Sebastian took a deep breath. “You are aware that I served in the Peninsular War?” he began softly, unable to meet his wife's gaze as she reclined within the sanctuary of his embrace.
“I am,” she said with just as much quiet. “The dragoons, I think I heard?”
“The Royal Dragoon Guard of Waterloo,” he corrected. “I had the honor of commanding them. Among my men, those dearest to me were Lord Simon Wellington, whom you know, another friend of mine—a commoner, Ralph Merchant, who happens to be the son of my butler Albion... and Lord Wellington’s brother, Jasper.” Merely uttering that name felt as if a blade had pierced his heart.
“And this was a decade past?” Virtue inquired in his prolonged silence.
“Around that time, yes. The war... it is a topic I find myself reluctant to discuss. Not out of a desire to deceive you or to keep you uninformed, but because the very nature of war is such that it ought not be spoken of lightly. Even those of us who have endured its trials... man is not fashioned for such strife. We may engage in it so frequently you might suppose we are born to it, but...” Visions from those days flickered before his eyes, causing his heart to race. “It changes a man. Some adapt more readily than others, yet no man emerges from that ghastly battlefield unscathed.”
“And that is where you got the...” She reached up and gently touched his scar. There was no sensation of pain, for the wound had long since healed, but still, at her touch, he flinched, for the memories it wrought.
“Sorry.” She pulled her hand back.
“It is fine,” he reassured her, taking her hand tenderly and kissing her knuckles. “Had the story ended there, I might have returned a changed man, but no more than the countless others who have trodden this path before, and the countless others who are to tow that line once more. It is not what became of war that I dread, it is what became of myself. As I said earlier, some adapt, and… regrettably, I was among the rare few who did. If that is what it deserves to be called.” He swallowed hard. “In the throes of war, a man ceases to be a man. He becomes a beast, you understand. Those rumors you have heard of me, that I butcher…” He sighed. “That I lure in and butcher those who cross me, those rumors that seem implausible for Sebastian Foxworth, Duke of Greystone, are not so otherworldly for Sebastian, commander of the Dragoons. I acquired a title during the war, one that I rightfully earned but am forever ashamed of.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle, anticipating her inevitable question.
“What... what was it?”
“The Royal Butcher,” Sebastian answered coldly. “Some of the things I did... I will forever despise myself. As I should. As everyone should, but no one does.”
His mind flashed to the blood-soaked fields of Talavera, the dying cries, and the stench of death. He remembered the desperation in the eyes of those he killed – soldiers, innocents, all the same. The brutal orders followed without question, the night raids, burning villages, and the glow of fires illuminating terror. An elderly couple, caught in the blazes he wrought. An unarmed French boy, pleading for his mother, cut down by his hand.
He saw the faces of his fallen comrades, sent to die in impossible battles. The guilt of their blood on his hands. The moment he realized he had become the monster he once swore to fight, the darkness consuming his soul. And he embraced it, he embraced it all.
“I see their faces every night,” he whispered. “I hear their screams. No title or wealth can erase the horrors I wrought. The Royal Butcher is my penance, a reminder of the creature I became.” He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. “What was worse… were the praises I received upon my return. I am not the hero they want. I am a monster in a Duke’s guise. No amount of time will wash away the blood that stains my soul. And I will forever despise myself.”
“You are no longer that person. You don’t have to hate yourself anymore,” she started softly, a tinge of fear coloring her tone, for this was more than she had asked for. More than the story of his scar, rather, the story of what made him the beast he was today.
“No.” He took a deep breath and pulled her in closer. They were both naked, lying on the floor, the blanket thrown across theroom because their bodies provided enough warmth. “I must, for there is no one else to if I don’t.”
“But you sought penance, you repented and changed, no? That is more than can be said for the countless others who carried on without a hint of remorse,” Virtue pressed gently.
“Carried on?Carried on? I was granted the opportunity to repent, an opportunity many were deprived of because of my actions. You asked me of Lord Wellington’s brother once, and why we are no longer friends.”
“I remember.”
“It was toward the latter stages of the war, our final mission in fact. It was supposed to be a routine raid—a village we believed to be deserted. The Spanish forces were reported to have retreated beyond the battlelines and our battalion was dispatched to reconnoiter the village in preparation for establishing a base.” His voice faltered as visions flickered behind his eyes; the village under nightfall, fires blazing, rain falling, distant screams echoing... “I led my battalion at the forefront, convinced the village was devoid of danger. ‘No peril,’ I assured them. ‘Complete this, and tonight we will toast to the war’s end. You will return to your family’s as revered men.’"