His past

*Calliope*
I want to die right on the spot. The sight of Sarah is enough to cause my memories to come flooding back. I despair looking at him, at seeing the disgust and knowledge in his eyes. But when I dare to look, he is gazing at Sarah with fondness. It feels as though a thousand swords are slashing into my heart, my soul.

“Sir Zac,” Sarah says, a delicate pleat beginning to form between her brows as her gaze darts between Zac and me. “Congratulations on your knighthood. Your mother must be delighted to have three titled sons."

He gives a small bow, “My mother is delighted about a good many things, Sarah."

“Modesty does not become you, Sir Zac. And please, you must call me by the pet name you gave me." She looks at me. “Fancy. It was a little joke between us, but I have begun to use it with some regularity. It suits better, don’t you think, Sir Zac?”

“It does indeed. I see you have met my wife.”

All the blood drains from Sarah's face, and her mouth opens slightly. "You are married."

“Not a word I ever expected to associate with myself, but yes. Calliope and I met in the war. She was one of Miss Nightingale’s nurses."

“Yes, I know. That’s where she and I met." Sarah says.

“In the war?” Zac barely whispers. His fingers, still on my waist, spasm, and I see the devastating combination of panic and despair in his eyes.

He doesn’t remember Fancy! He has to have known her before. Of course. Fancy has mentioned his scandalous reputation, but I thought she spoke of gossip, not knowledge. The joy spiraling through me is unforgivable.

I cannot leave him to flounder, to risk Fancy discovering the affliction that still embarrasses him.

“Zac and I seldom talk of that time. Such harsh memories," I say. “Do you remember how crammed together we were in the nurses’ quarters?”

“Yes, of course,” she says, but I can see the wheels spinning in her mind as she tries to make sense of things. “Married,” she repeats. "More congratulations are in order, it seems. When did this happen?"

“Not soon enough,” Zac says. He seems to hesitate, then adds, “We have a son.”

“Do you?” Fancy asks, as though all breath has been pounded from her body. "It seems there is no end to the good fortune that has befallen you."

I wish I could have a moment alone with Fancy to explain… before disaster has a chance to strike.

“And what of you, Fancy?" Zac asks. “Who did you choose, for you wear too much jewelry not to have landed with someone?”

I have no idea what he is on about, but Fancy apparently does, because a fine blush creeps up her cheeks. “Lord Dearbourne.”

“He’s a damned lucky man," Zac says, “and he has the means to keep you in style."

“Yes, I am most fortunate that he has favored me." She says.

The strains of a waltz fill the room. “If you'll excuse us, Fancy, my wife was saving this dance for me."

“Yes, it was so lovely to see you again." She mumbles.

“And you." Zac takes her gloved hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Take care of yourself, Fancy.”

“Oh, yes." She seems to struggle to speak past a clog of tears. “I will."

I don’t think Zac can guide me away quickly enough. I have been holding my breath, fearful that Fancy might say something about Zane, might reveal that she has given birth to him.

When he sweeps me onto the dance floor, he hisses in a low voice, "God help me. She was in the war?"

I realize he’s been as tense as I am, fearful that he would give away his affliction. Perhaps tonight will be the only time that Fancy… why ever had he called her that? makes an appearance in our lives, and we can carry on as we have been. Happy and content. Joyful.

“Yes," I say, “but you seem to know her from sometime before. Were you friends?"

“In a manner of speaking. She was… one of the ladies who contributed to my notorious reputation." He admits.

“You were lovers." Even before the war.

He gives a brusque nod, and silence stretches taut between us.

“It seems a long time ago," he finally says.

“Did you love her?" My heart cramps up, waiting for his answer.

His gaze travels over my face and finally settles on my eyes. "I didn’t love any of them, Calliope. I was a cad. I cared only about pleasure, mine and theirs. No promises were ever made, none to be kept."

We dip and swirl, and I realize his leg is truly healed now. It can support him, give him mobility. I want to remain in his arms forever, but the fine hairs on the nape of my neck rise… and I see Fancy standing off to the side, studying us speculatively, and I fear my wish will not last.

“I don’t understand how she could have been a nurse," he says finally. “She was not studying for it when I knew her."

“I don’t know. There was an application process, an interview. She must have wanted very badly to go." I say.

“Was she a good nurse?" He asks.

I laugh, trying to make light of things. “The men liked her, but I’m not certain it was her nursing skills that impressed them. She had the ability to make even our ugly black dresses look becoming."

“What might she ask that I should know?" he asks, and I detect the concern in his voice that he will be unable to keep his affliction from her. "What might come up in conversation?"

“It’s impossible to know. Perhaps it would be best if I am always near when you speak to her so I can fill in any emptiness between you." And I can strive to steer all conversation away from Zane.

He angles his head thoughtfully, and all the worry that has been marring his features disappears. “Is that a bit of jealousy I’m detecting?"

“No, of course not. I just… I know you prefer that people not know the full extent of your injuries. That’s all." I mumble.

“You’re lying." He says.

I shake my heads “I have never lied to you."

He arches a brow.

“Oh, all right. Perhaps I’m a little jealous." I admit.

He smiles, “Good.”

“Why good?" I ask.

“Because sometimes you are a bit too much of a saint. And I like it much better when you are wicked."

I give him a saucy smile. “Well, then, tonight when we arrive home, I shall do all in my power to be wicked."

“You will be too tired after all this celebrating and dancing." He says.

I shake my head, “Oh, no, I am too curious."

“Curious? About what?" He asks.

“What it is like to have a knight in my bed.” I half whisper.

His boisterous laughter echoes around us, making a few people stop to stare and smile. “My dear wife, I shall be only too glad to show you."