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“You do not see the inappropriateness of it?” Nikolai stare bore into her.
Sonya wished quite suddenly that the earth would open up and swallow he whole. “Captain Denisov is not unknown to the family. Indeed, there was a time when you and him were on friendly terms.” The words felt heavy upon her tongue. Her hand rested upon the pocket of her skirts which held the incriminating memento her husband knew nothing of. Whatever quilt she had felt in carrying around Dolokhov’s keepsake was rapidly vanishing under the unfair criticism levelled her way.
She had done nothing to merit such censure. Certainly, her behaviour had been on par with that of her fellow women of rank. Pierre hadn’t chastised Natasha for sharing a dance with several of his cronies, or even with the radical young bucks eager to ender themselves to the man by harmlessly flattering his wife.
When Nikolai had drawn her aside after breakfast, omitting his usual quick departure, Sonya had foolishly hoped it was a good omen. She had discounted both his grim expression and the cool tone of his voice for the affectations of a nervous man. After all, her husband had never liked to show the slightest hint of weakness. Having for the first time in a long time willingly submitted himself to the rigours of time spent with her, he’d given rise to an encouraging sense of curiosity in her. She had followed him with an easy nod, practically floating on air.
She’d thought he wanted them to turn over a new leaf.
“His status as an acquaintance does not make him acceptable company for a countess,” her husband replied sharply. Sonya watched the spark of temper flare in hips gaze. “You did not see Natasha acknowledge him beyond the strictly necessary, did you?”
Natasha had refused the man’s marriage proposal after spending quite a number of days batting her eyes at him. That she’d not meant to engage his affections was a separate matter. But she had in effects given him the impression that she found his company most congenial. Sonya would have found it heartless in her cousin to reenact the same tactics when she knew better.
“No, I did not.” But he’d asked her to dance. It had been so long since anyone had. Sonya had enjoyed his skill and his amiable manner. He’d reminded her of better times. He’d taken her mind off the encounter with her erstwhile suitor. He’d made a confusing, unbearable evening better by giving her some respite from her own thoughts. “It would have been rude to refuse his request however, seeing as we are old acquaintances.”
Her harshest critic, the old Countess, had had nothing to say to it either. Sonya knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, she’d done nothing wrong.
Nikolai’s eyebrows snapped together. Colour mounted. He took a shallow breath and started towards her. Hands caught her firmly by the shoulders. His grip was too tight, verging on painful. “Do you not understand that I am trying to protect you?”
She blinked, momentarily left breathless at his audacity. “From what, a dance?” He had as good as ignored her throughout the evening, barely speaking two words altogether in her direction. He’d further gone off to keep company with his precious Princess and was late in arriving home, for he’d insisted on seeing the woman safely to her abode.
Sonya had not made the slightest difficulty about any of that. She had sought the cover of darkness to shed any tears and she had dutifully complained of a headache to explain her appearance when his own sister had asked what ailed her. She had retreated to her bedchamber with an agreeable smile., assuring Natasha that the pain had greatly subsided despite wanting little more than to burst into tears once more when Nikolai promptly abandoned her in the parlour with a curt assertion of being tired.
Any other woman would have given him what for.
“He is close to Dolokhov, for goodness’ sake!” her husband exploded, ripping Sonya from the clutches of the previous night’s disappointment. “Must I spell it our for you to understand?”
She opened her mouth to protest his unjust insult of her intellect, but the only sound issuing forth was a faint choking noise. Sonya was horrified to realise tears burned her eyes. Taking a moment, she drew in a long breath, watching Nikolai’s expression run the gamut of emotions from anger to remorse.
His hold on her shoulders slackened and for one brief moment, his palms moved down in faint caress. “Even if he were not that fiend’s friend, he leads a dissolute life. I will not have it said of my wife that she runs in the company profligate debauchers.”
Her eyes closed in an attempt to stop any tears from falling. If only she were stupid enough to swallow that lump of a justification, she might have been a happier sort of person. Sonya gulped down the lump in her throat. “Forgive me; I had not thought of that.” She was not sorry.
It was doubtless wrong to lie in such a fashion to her husband. But the man he spoke of in such harsh terms had shown her more kindness in their brief half an hour spent together than Nikolai had in two years of marriage. The feared fiend whom he wanted her to avoid had shielded the tattered shreds of her dignity when her own husband was perfectly happy to completely ignore her.
Sonya opened her eyes.
Nikolai rewarded her with a relieved smile which made her stomach churn.
“I knew you’d understand. Be sure to avoid him from now on.” His hands had reached her own, holding on gently. "If he approaches you, all you need do is turn to Pierre and he will take care of it. I’ve made my feelings perfectly clear to him.”
Had he punched her in the gut, the pain of that blow would have been smaller. Sonya felt heat wash over her face. She pressed her lips firmly together, willing the words on the tip of her tongue to slide back down her throat. When she was certain she could deliver a civilised reply, she gave him a brief, “I shall do that.”
Satisfied, Nikolai departed. He had an appointment with Princess Marya and her little nephew; to pick out some horseflesh. His expertise was needed.
It occurred to Sonya, standing alone in the middle of the chamber with the squeak of the hinges still ringing in her ears, that she had, in fact, married a pitiless brute.