Whenever Hannah had tried to ask Michael about his own plans to travel to Lohenberg, he’d redirected her questions.He, too, was holding secrets.
“What if youareroyalty?“ she asked.“Would that be so bad?”
He shook his head.“There’s no evidence of that.Any resemblance to the king is a coincidence.”
“What about Mrs.Turner?”
He leaned back in the coach.“Mrs.Turner has slowly been losing her wits over the past year.Nothing she says can be trusted.”
But it only sounded like an excuse.Hannah pressed further.“She was singing about a lost child last night.What if she was talking about you?”
Michael seemed to dismiss the idea.“She was singing about her son, Henry.”He stared outside the window.“It was her child who was lost.And it was my fault he’s dead.”The heaviness in his voice suggested he felt responsible for the widow’s madness.
“How did he die?”
Michael rested his hand on his knee, tapping at his hat.“It was at Balaclava.”
“Tell me what happened.”She wanted to understand him—especially the darkness of his past that he was intent on avoiding.And maybe talking about it might help him to heal his own invisible wounds.
He glanced over at Mrs.Turner, as though reluctant to speak of it or remember the day.
“Please,” she whispered.“I want to know.”
At last, he lowered his voice.“Men were shot down around me, by the hundreds.Myself included.”There was a raw ache to his voice, even as he stared outside.
The desolation and bitterness in his voice made Hannah reach out to take his hand.Though both of them wore gloves, she tried to offer him the comfort of touch.“But you lived.”
His fingers tightened over hers.“Only because I fell beneath Henry’s body.When the enemy soldiers stabbed their bayonets into the dead, they stabbed Henry.Not me.”
Dear God.Her heart broke for him, even as she asked, “He was already dead, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.But I should be the one dead, not him.”He shook his head in disgust.
“It wasn’t your fault that he died.Only Fate can determine who lives or dies.”Hannah reached out to take his other hand, holding both.“Don’t punish yourself for being one of the lucky few.”
He gripped her palm.“Can’t you understand?If I am proven to be the prince, Reischor wants to place me upon the throne.Why would a man like me deserve a fate like that?”
“Perhaps it’s a second chance,” she suggested.“A way25141 for you to make changes that will help this country.What if you could protect others from dying at war?”
He looked away.“I don’t want it, Hannah.I’m not a man who can lead others.It’s not in me.”
He exhaled, and guilt cloaked him.“I couldn’t even look after my own men, Hannah.How could anyone believe I could look after a country?”
“Because you care about others,” she answered softly.“And because you’re bullheaded enough to do it.”She released his hands, leaning back against the coach.
The throbbing of her headache started to bother her again, and she reached for the vial of laudanum she had given to Mrs.Turner.
“Are you having another of your headaches?”Michael asked suddenly.
She nodded.“But it’s not too bad, yet.Sometimes if I take the laudanum soon enough, it keeps the headache from becoming worse.”
After she measured out two drops, she closed her eyes, resting her head against the side of the coach.When the bouncing of the wheels made her clench her teeth, she lowered her head into her hands.
A moment later, she heard Michael removing his gloves.He reached over to her bonnet and untied it, lifting it away.She didn’t protest, not wanting to wake Mrs.Turner.
With his bare hands, Michael covered her hair, his thumbs massaging her temples.The gentleness of his touch, his desire to take away the pain, made her breath catch.
His thumbs were rough, his fingers slipping into her hair, framing her face.The effects of the laudanum, coupled with his caress, made her relax.
