He did not smile back. “Miss Prudence was injured while I was awake, not asleep. Can’t you see that? I am a danger to everyone around me.”
His hands began to tremble, shaking the contents of the box and making the knives clink softly against each other.
She immediately sobered. No amount of levity was going to reach through to his tormented soul. Wrapping bravery around her like the shawl that covered her shoulders, she crossed yet another boundary. Stepping forward, she gently pried one hand from around the box and held it between hers. He stared at her like she was mad.
She didn’t let go. “Truly, Alan, you do not look well. Please talk to me. I cannot promise to fix anything, but sometimes it helps to simply have a confidante.”
“Please, Grace. You need to leave.”
The quiet pleading in his voice brought tears of compassion to her eyes, but she battled them back and looked straight into his eyes. “No, I am staying right here.”
Chapter 20
Something cracked inside of Alan and a sob tore from his chest. He tried to call it back the moment it was out, but it was too late. He pulled his hand out of Grace’s, not wanting her to see him like this.
Men were not supposed to cry. They were supposed to be the strong ones, stoic and silent in their pain.
Before he could move, slender arms slid through his and around his back. Grace burrowed into his chest and clung to him like she feared he might shatter.
Perhaps he would.
Everything inside his head was breaking, letting out a flood of memories. He replayed himself thanking Harvey for taking his night watch that last time, and before that, going into battle with him by his side. The memories flashed faster, back through all his days of training, illuminating his actions. Through running away, through yelling at his father for his lack of dedication to the Crown, through seeing his father’s disappointment at his choices. Then they came to a crashing halt on the image of hismother, pale in death, his tiny baby brother laid reverently at her side.
That was the beginning. The moment he’d become angry at the world—and his father.
Deathhad taken the foundation he’d built his life upon and yet he’d blamed his father for it. But it wasn’t his fault. The only crime his father had committed was loving his mother with a fierceness that had lent security to his entire childhood.
He wrapped his arms around Grace’s back and let the aching pain out in great heaving sobs. She didn’t flinch, nor did she shush him. She only held him tighter. His knees trembled and he worried he’d collapse. He loosened his grip and tried to pull away.
She resisted.
“I need to sit.”
She relaxed her grip long enough for him to slide to the floor, his back against the cabinets behind his desk. Then she sunk down beside him, looped an arm through his, and propped her head against his shoulder.
“Why are you still here?” He choked out.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I am a horribly broken man who could be a very real danger to you.”
“Is it on purpose?”
She turned her head to look up at him. He glanced down at her, but their faces were so close he didn’t trust himself to hold eye contact.
“No.” The word came out as a whisper. “That is the problem. If I could control it, I would. I have these dreams. Nightmares, really. I’m back on the battlefield or sneaking around France in search of my friend. Every time Ratford and Sancerre are getting closer, committing unspeakable horrors as they close in. And then I find Harvey’s body.”
“How horrifying. When did you find his body?”
“I did not, and I don’t think I ever shall. Before Sancerre went to the gallows, he told me he’d tossed my friend in the river after…” He stopped himself. The details were too gruesome to repeat.
Grace gave his arm a little squeeze. “After what?”
He didn’t say. Instead, he drew a line across his throat with his finger.
“Oh my. I am so sorry.” Her warm brown eyes blinked back moisture.
She didn’t even know Harvey and yet her tender, compassionate heart mourned as he knew she would.
