Read Online Marriage By Arrangement by Anne Greene - Free Book Online Page B

against the sitting room door. Silence. Certainly Avondale needed her. She pushed down on the hard iron latch and shoved. The inlaid door opened barely an inch.
    The stench of something burning bit into her nostrils.
    She shoved her shoulder against the door, but it budged only a few more inches. She squeezed through.
    By the light of the silver moon beaming through the many half-curtained windows, she saw her husband sprawled across the Turkish carpet, his head next to the enormous fireplace and irons. An overturned candle burned into the thick fibers of the red carpet not inches from his limp hand.
    She rushed to his side, dropped to her knees, and smothered a velvet pillow over the spreading flame. The odor of scorch billowed up with a sooty cloud of smoke, but the fire died.
    “Avondale, Geoffrey, speak to me.” She shook his inert shoulder.
    Where was the promise of all that strength? He looked so helpless. His jacket was hanging open, his clothes rumpled.
    He stirred and turned a lax face in her direction. Opening one dark eye he drawled, “I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” He put a hand to his forehead. “But I see you are the sprite who brings the breath of angel wings.” He grimaced. “Guardian angel. Dash it all. Keep out that bully. Lock the doors against him. He and his horsemen. They’re after me.”
    She turned away, unable to bear seeing the fright distorting his face. What did he think he saw?
    She glanced around the room. Avondale had blocked the door to the hall with his huge clothing press. He had moved the fainting couch to obstruct the door to their bedchamber. She’d only just been able to force her way inside.
    She touched his high, intelligent forehead. Her fingers discovered a large bump growing thicker.
    Grabbing her hand, he shakily pulled himself into a sitting position, wound his arms around her, and buried his head in her bosom. For the time being he was quiet.
    She must get him into their bed and perhaps give him a small dose of laudanum.
    When he woke, mayhap he would have forgotten his nightmare and would become his sweet, gentle self…or the haughty, cold shadow of himself.
    She shivered.
    Either way, she must help him find refuge from his demons. How did he cope during the day when he disappeared? Did his duties worry him so that he went a little wild at night?
    As if Avondale was a small, frightened child, she kissed the angry knot on his forehead and held him against her breast and rocked him, humming a soothing tune.
    For a few minutes he was quiet.
    Then he freed himself and jumped up. “Billy the Butcher! Look out the window! I’m certain he’s arrived. Twas only a matter of time.” His normally pleasing baritone voice sounded high-pitched…and fearful.
    Avondale paced the large chamber, running his strong fingers through his brown hair and leaving the thick mass standing on end. His elegant breeches wore patches of mud, and his waistcoat was half unbuttoned. Limping on one stockinged foot, and one boot, her handsome husband looked wild-eyed and totally unlike his usual debonair self.
    Throwing the half-opened curtains all the way back, he pressed his nose to the glass, and then stalked from window to window. The candle sconces lighting the walls wavered, dimmed, and almost blew out from his momentum.
    “Avondale, whatever is the matter?” Following him, she gazed out the window he had just left. Nothing to see outside or down below, but empty walks and driving rain. “I’m certain no one has arrived. Neither the dogs nor the servants announced visitors.” She put a hand on his arm. “Please calm down. No one is anywhere nearby.”
    “Yes, yes. He’s outside. See the blood dripping from his hands. He’s calling me. Don’t… don’t let him inside.” His brown eyes looked dark and glazed, and Avondale stared through her.
    She grasped his strong shoulders. “There’s no one outside, my darling.”
    She must discover what haunted him. She’d heard of men returned