Page 24 of A Gentleman's Wife

“Have you been hurt while having an episode?” he asked.

Marianne nodded. “Many times, though not so much since Eliza. Most often, she’s able to ease me to the ground and see that I don’t hurt myself. Before that, I was hurt quite often. My leg meeting with a corner or toppling a vase that shattered on my shoulder.” Instinctively she rubbed the spot over the fabric of her dress. “Or falling off a horse.”

His eyes grew wide, so Marianne hurried on. “It’s what made my father so adamant to keep me from riding. I had injured my face rather horribly, and at the time, he worried the scars would impede me from making a match.”

Thomas leaned in closer, his brown eyes examining her face. “I see no flaws in you.”

Her cheeks burned as she cast her eyes to the ground, then lifted her fingers to untie her bonnet and remove it from her head. “They’ve mostly faded, but I still carry the memories of the marks.”

Marianne pressed her finger to her scalp. It was easier to find with a mirror, but eventually she found the raised skin that disappeared into her hairline. “Just here, there was a large gash and a terrible bruise, caused by the frightened horse’s stomp.” Thomas pressed a hand to her hair and let out a struggled sigh.

“The one on my nose is harder to see, as it’s hidden well by the natural curve, but it’s where I hit a tree root. There was so much blood, despite being such a tiny thing.” Once she saw the recognition in his eyes, he gave her a sad smile.

“And one just here, under my chin.” Marianne swallowed, suddenly hesitant to draw his attention to her neck. “I’d worn a brooch that day, and… when I seize, my head ducks down. The brooch dug into my skin, and the doctor said I was lucky it didn’t strike an artery that could have killed me. I don’t wear brooches anymore.”

Marianne lifted and turned her head to give him a view of the scar. He leaned forward which she expected was for examination, but when she felt his fingers on her skin, gently holding her face and then brushing a thumb along the scar beneath her jaw, it stilled her ability to breathe. His touch was soft and warm, the way she’d felt stepping into the sun after so many days cooped up in the house. And then just as quickly, he withdrew his hand, allowing her to relax and take steady breath again.

“How greatly you have suffered,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not just your physical ailments, but also at the hands of your family.”

It was true; she would not deny it. “I should be grateful, for they always saw that I had the best doctors that money could buy and the most advanced medical attention. But even then, I knew it was not to spare me any grief or pain, but more to spare them from embarrassment. They hoped for a cure so that I might be normal again in their eyes.” Marianne sighed. “But I know there is no cure for the epilepsy. And even though the salve from Mr. Sanders does seem to help, this hand will be with me the rest of my life.”

Thomas just listened. He held no pity in his eyes, only understanding.

Then he wordlessly held out his hand, and Marianne immediately knew what he wanted, but she couldn’t do it. She covered her right hand with her left to refuse.

“Please, Marianne. I won’t be turned away by this difficulty. As my wife, your burdens become my burdens, but I cannot carry what I cannot see.”

A lump of emotion welled in her throat as she met his desperate gaze. A rare few knew the true nature of her hand. Her parents and siblings hadn’t seen the truth of it in years. But Marianne was not only a daughter or sibling anymore; she was now a wife. She had a husband who had sworn to look after her and care for her, and she knew him to be the best sort of man. She could trust him with this, couldn’t she?

With a timid nod, Marianne used her left hand to pull the glove off each finger of her right hand. Eliza struggled every morning to help her put it on, and Marianne did not want her to worry about doing so all over again, but Thomas had already done so much for her. If he wanted a witness to her condition, Marianne would not deny him.

Once the fingers were free, she slid the long white glove off her hand, set it across her lap, and held out her right hand to him. She’d long ago accepted the sight of it herself, but it was a new experience sharing it with others. Surely, he expected something different, for what should have been pretty and elegant was made warped by large, knobby knuckles and curled fingers. Her wrist was almost constantly set at a slight angle, and no amount of salve or stretching would make it right again. Make it whole.

And yet, he continued to surprise her. Thomas took her right hand into his, thumb gently brushing over each curve, each line, each unnatural bit of her and somehow made it feel… normal. Marianne knew she wasn’t, that she was anything but, and somehow, he managed to help her look past that. He was accepting her as she was.

Then he pulled her hand upward and pressed his lips to her skin. Any calm he’d administered to her was quickly replaced with a rush of heat in her cheeks. His mouth moved over every finger, sending her heart racing faster than a runaway horse. This was a level of intimacy she’d never shared with anyone, something new and overwhelming, and it brought a burn to her eyes.

“Thomas,” Marianne whispered, the muscles at her mouth tugging tightly. Why did she speak? Did she want him to cease or continue? To explain or to leave? She didn’t know her own heart in that moment. Tears blurred the sight of him before her, but she felt his hand give her a gentle squeeze.

“This is a part of you, Marianne, but this is not all of you.” His words were firm. “And anyone who treats you unkindly for it will answer to me.”

A lone tear spilled over her cheek just as she wanted to laugh. She couldn’t imagine her wonderfully calm and kind husband challenging anyone, but he was saying he would. For her.

Before she could regain her thoughts enough to respond, the butler appeared over Thomas’s shoulder. “You wanted me to notify you when the guest arrived, sir,” Collins said.

A smile returned to Thomas’s lips. “Excellent. Please show him out here.”

Disappointed that their shared moment had come to an end so quickly, Marianne wiped at her eyes and immediately grabbed for her glove. “Wait, Thomas. I need Eliza, and the glove…”

But he placed a steadying hand on her arm and turned his eyes to the door of the house.

Eliza arrived first, with rosy cheeks and delight in her eyes, then behind her appeared Mr. Sanders.

Marianne gasped.

He cast his eyes around the garden courtyard, then waved his hand enthusiastically when he saw them.

“What is he doing here?” Marianne asked breathlessly.

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