A Mistress for Major Bartlett Page 17

  ‘Oh, Tom. How horrid for you.’ She hitched one hip on to the bed and took his hand. ‘Nobody should have treated you that way, just because of what your father had done. Or your grandfather.’

  ‘I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me,’ he said fiercely. ‘I want you to understand what it would be like. I don’t want to inflict that kind of public mockery on any woman. Let alone one I truly care for.’ He gripped her hand so hard it made her wince.

  Then, seeing it, he drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them fervently.

  ‘These days here with you, like this, I know they are all I can ever have. And I don’t mind. It’s more than I deserve.’

  ‘That’s utter rot!’ She drew her hand away sharply, and tucked it in her lap. ‘You hold the rank of major. You’ve fought bravely in battle. And apart from a bit of womanising—’

  ‘A lot of womanising,’ he corrected her, drily. ‘Let us be accurate.’

  ‘Very well, a lot of womanising,’ she said, blushing. ‘I’ve never heard anything bad about you.’

  ‘Perhaps your family have kept it from you, have you thought of that?’

  ‘Oh. Well, yes, they do tend to keep things from me.’ Nobody but Gideon had ever answered any of her questions properly. It was always, no need for you to worry your head about such things. Or, not a suitable topic for ladies.

  She lifted her chin and eyed him militantly. ‘Very well, then, Tom. Tell me yourself. What have you done that is so bad you don’t think you are fit to marry me? Apart from having the misfortune to have been sired by a man who was an utter disgrace. Which, let me tell you, makes us just about even as far as I’m concerned. What are your vices? Do you gamble?’

  ‘No. Do you think I could follow the course of a man I hold in such contempt? I hate watching my fellow officers losing their possessions to one another on the roll of a dice or the turn of a card. As far as I’m concerned, if a man wants to take another man’s property he ought to just steal it honestly.’

  ‘Do you steal things, then? Habitually?’

  ‘Not now I have the means to keep my belly full, no. Not unless I’m ordered to do so by a commanding officer to bring confusion to the enemy, at least.’

  ‘So it’s just the womanising, then.’ She took a deep breath and, though her face went bright red, asked him the most important question of all. ‘Are you in the habit of taking women against their will? Taking no account of whether they might be virgins?’

  ‘No!’ His shock and disgust were genuine, she could tell. ‘I’ve enjoyed a lot of women. But I’ve always ensured they enjoyed the encounter every bit as much as I have. More.’

  ‘That sounds a touch boastful.’

  He glowered at her.

  ‘No. It’s just the way I happen to like it. Sex is a natural appetite. And like any appetite, men have preferences. Mine are for energetic, enthusiastic encounters. I need the... Hell, I shouldn’t be talking like this with you.’

  She gave a small, cat-like smile.

  ‘Tom, what you have described is not the temperament of a rake. You are just a normal, healthy male, who needs...companionship every now and then.’

  ‘Are you actually trying to persuade me to marry you? Is that what you want? Was all your talk about staying free just words?’

  ‘No! I— You are twisting my words,’ she finished hotly. ‘I’m not talking about whether I want to marry you. Or anyone.’ She got to her feet and paced across the room to the window. ‘I’m saying that your reasons for not wanting to marry me, or for thinking you aren’t good enough, are totally stupid. That’s all.’

  ‘Is it?’

  There was a coldness in his voice that sent a shiver down her own spine.

  ‘This—’ he waved his hand between them ‘—whatever this is, it can’t come to anything. It can’t survive outside this room.’

  ‘Does that matter?’ She strode back to the bed and grabbed at the hand he’d been waving at her. ‘Does it matter that there is no future for us? What we have now is precious.’ Her voice faded to a whisper. She bowed her head over his hand, raised it to her lips and kissed his knuckles. One by one. ‘I’ve never cared about any other man the way I’ve come to care for you, these past few days. I’ve never felt moved, when a man said he loved me, the way your declaration just now moved me. I never wanted any man to love me.’ She looked up at him, confusion clouding her eyes. ‘Tom, let’s not talk about this any more. About feelings, or the future. Let’s just...’

  ‘Enjoy the moment?’ There was a bleakness in his eyes, even as he gave that lopsided smile, and shrugged. ‘Yes. Why not? It’s what I’m best at. Seizing whatever opportunities come my way. Forget I said anything. I told you it was foolish. Ill timed. Shows how low this wound has laid me,’ he said, touching the bandage over his head. ‘In my right mind I’d never have done anything so crass as scare a lady away with such maudlin talk as I’ve been spouting these last few minutes. I don’t suppose,’ he said, drawing his hand from hers and looking towards the door, ‘you could persuade Madame to bring me some brandy? And something to eat apart from the pap she’s been ladling out?’

  Sarah went to the door. ‘I will go and ask,’ she said, keeping her face averted, so he wouldn’t see the tears that were stinging her eyes.

  If he felt he was maladroit, what did that make her?

  Touched in the upper works, Gideon would have said. It was the only thing to account for any of her behaviour, this last week.

  The smells that assailed her nostrils, when she reached the kitchen, were so delicious they made Sarah’s stomach rumble.

  She paused in the doorway, watching Madame and her kitchen maid bustling about, wondering how she could feel hunger, could carry on having any feelings, when Gideon—who’d been her whole life—had none.

  And yet there was no denying she wanted some of Madame’s soup and a slice of her fresh, crusty bread.

  And Tom.

  ‘Tom has asked if he can have something a bit more, um...’ She faltered, loathe to speak disparagingly of Madame’s provision so far. ‘Substantial.’

  ‘Ah, that is good, no? It means he is getting stronger. Gaston said he thought so this morning, when he went up to give him the wash. But you, ma petite? How are you?’

  Madame le Brun carried on doling out sympathy and good cheer along with the soup, and somehow had Sarah back upstairs and sitting down at the table with Tom to a meal which included some thickly sliced ham, coddled eggs and thinly sliced cucumber, as well as the soup, without once letting her give way to her grief.

  It was only after she’d consumed about half a bowl of soup that Sarah’s conscience reminded her she had no right to enjoy anything.

  ‘What is it,’ said Tom. ‘Not hungry?’

  She flung her spoon aside in disgust. ‘I have no right to be. I had vowed to go and visit Justin this morning. But after the chapel, I...’ She shook her head.

  ‘You can still go. Later.’

  ‘If I get there and find he’s died, while I was wandering about the shops...I’m never going to forgive myself.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think it likely, now. And before you rip up at me about not taking you seriously, listen to me,’ he said, laying his hand on the back of her wrist. ‘Just listen. If he had died, or if there was any danger of him doing so, don’t you think Miss Endacott would have urged you to go and sit at his bedside?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think she would rather keep me away, lest I aggravate his condition.’

  ‘That may be the best course,’ said Tom, with a particularly firm look on his face. ‘You say you would never forgive yourself if he died before you saw him again, but how much worse would you feel if you went and he grew upset over us, and had a fatal relapse?’

  ‘You are right,’ she admitted shakily. The soup
she’d already eaten curdled in her stomach. ‘Perhaps I should stay away until he’s completely out of danger,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Look,’ he said, rather more gently. ‘The fact that she has let you know he’s had an operation must mean she has more hope for him, don’t you think? And this may sound rather brutal, but the fact that he’s survived that operation at all is the critical thing. That was the most dangerous point, for him.’

  ‘I just feel so...’ She pursed her lips, and shook her head, searching for the words to explain. ‘Useless. I’ve always been useless, I know that, but it hits particularly hard, knowing Justin is lying there, fighting for his life, and what did I do? I went shopping, Tom. Shopping!’

  ‘You went to the chapel first, to pay your respects to your twin. You are grieving, Sarah, you can’t expect to be in any fit state to do much. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Why, you have done wonders for me.’

  ‘Yes.’ She turned her hand over to grasp hold of his. ‘At least you didn’t become one of those officers who died of their injuries while waiting for a proper doctor to see to them.’

  ‘No. I owe you my life.’

  ‘It wasn’t just me,’ she put in hastily. ‘Your Rogues made sure I was going to be able to look after you. They even stole a French ambulance to get you back here in comfort.’

  A wry grin twisted his beautiful mouth. ‘One thing you have to say for the way your brother has set up his troop of Rogues—we never leave one of our own behind.’

  She bit down on her lower lip. ‘That was what Major Flint did, wasn’t it? He took charge of Gideon’s body, since Justin wasn’t able to do it. Just as though Gideon was one of his own Rogues. Oh, dear...’ She shut her eyes on yet another wave of guilt. ‘I really shouldn’t have thrown that flower pot at him, should I? Adam had only come to tell me where Gideon was. He hadn’t come to interfere, or blacken my name. Not on purpose.’

  ‘No, but he need not have called you those foul names,’ said Tom hotly. ‘I could run him through for thinking, for one moment, that you would...you would...’ He ground his teeth.

  ‘I don’t think,’ she said mildly, ‘you are quite up to running him through, are you?’

  ‘No, but I could shoot him,’ he finished grimly.

  ‘I beg your pardon, but didn’t you tell me that your pistols had been stolen?’

  ‘A minor inconvenience,’ said Tom, making a dismissive gesture with his free hand. ‘I can soon buy some more.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want you to shoot him,’ she said tartly. ‘If you two fought a duel over me, it would be bound to cause a dreadful scandal. Not that I care,’ she added hastily, in case he thought she regretted any part of their few days together.

  ‘Well, I care,’ he grumbled. ‘You shouldn’t have to forfeit your position in society because of the selfless way you’ve looked after me, this week.’

  ‘I don’t give that for it,’ she said, snapping her fingers. ‘If you’d ever been a part of society, you’d know that mostly it is one long struggle for position. Everyone is trying to impress everyone else. Either by having more money, or more influence than anyone else. And most of them are trying to drag others down, so that they can clamber over their shredded reputations. It’s brutal.’ She shuddered.

  ‘But you have been one of the leading ladies,’ he said with a frown.

  She pursed her lips. ‘Only because of my family. I never really took part in any of the posturing and striving for position. I would gladly have stayed at Chalfont Magna all year round if only Mama would have permitted it. But she would have made such a fuss. It was easier to go along with Mama’s plans—to pretend to go along with them, anyway, than openly defy her. I...’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘I went to all the balls, endured those London Seasons, even behaved like a pattern card of virtue at Chalfont Magna, because it all seemed so much easier. I didn’t even speak out when Mama decided to hire a governess and keep me close under her eye, rather than risk sending me away to school. Harriet came home with her head stuffed full of radical ideas, you see. You should have heard the commotion when she swore she would never marry, because it went against her principles.’

  ‘She is the one who is married to a scholar of some sort, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah smiled. ‘I don’t think Mama would have tolerated him, were he not better than the alternative—which was Harriet never marrying at all.’

  ‘Did you want to go to school, though?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ she mused. ‘I never really cared very strongly about anything, or anyone, except Gideon. Wherever I was, it wouldn’t have been with him, because he’d gone to Eton. I reckoned I may as well wait for him to come home to Chalfont as anywhere. The only thing is,’ she added wistfully, ‘if I had gone to school I may have made some friends, the way Gussie and Harriet did. None of the local girls wanted to come anywhere near. Too scared of what Papa might do, I dare say. Besides which Mama always said they weren’t of our class.’

  ‘It always looked to me as though you had plenty of friends. People who admired you. Wanted to be with you.’

  She gave a bitter, sad little smile. ‘When a girl from my background makes her entrée into society, she will always have crowds of people wanting to get near her. For various reasons. The only trouble was, they were all keen to get husbands, too. So all their talk was of beaus, and fashion, and things I found deadly dull. I suppose they must have found me dreadfully dull. Or cold. I know that some of them whispered that I was cold and haughty. And because I abhorred the prospect of attracting a man’s notice, with a view to marriage, prim and proper, to boot.’

  ‘You are none of those things,’ he said hotly. ‘You are most certainly not dull. Or cold.’

  She pulled her hand out from under his, her cheeks warming. ‘You have seen a side to me I have never revealed to anyone else.’ She frowned. ‘So far as anyone else is concerned, I am a demure, rather dull, society miss without two thoughts in her head to rub together and form a spark.’

  Though, since she’d done her best to play at being a simpering virgin, too delicate and sensitive to accept the first offer some great brute of a man made her, wasn’t it her own fault if people couldn’t see who she really was?

  ‘I am honoured, Sarah.’

  She lurched to her feet and went to the window.

  ‘The Mayor of Brussels requisitioned all the carriages yesterday, did you hear? They have actually begun going out to the battlefield to search for survivors at long last.’

  ‘Sarah.’ Tom’s voice sounded pained. He clearly didn’t like the way she’d turned the subject. But she couldn’t go any further down that road. Or examine too closely why she could tell him things she’d never told another living soul, apart from Gideon.

  ‘Wounded men keep on crawling out of the fields,’ she carried on, her back to him, her shoulders tense. ‘Half-crazed with thirst and pain. Heaven alone knows where the citizens will put them. Officers have been sent by barge to Antwerp, but as for the ordinary men—’

  She broke off and turned to him. ‘Now that you are getting better, I really do think I ought to do something. To help. You don’t need me so much now, do you? It was different when you had the fever, but now...’

  A cold lump formed in his stomach. She was going to leave him. She could already have left him, had he not pretended to be weaker than he actually was. And if Major Flint hadn’t tried to bully her into leaving, which had made her dig in her heels to defy him.

  Yet he was too proud to beg her to stay.

  Too attuned to her views to attempt to forbid her.

  ‘You must do what you think best, of course.’

  She stood looking at him for a few seconds, a world of turmoil in her eyes. ‘I think, what I will do, right now, is go out riding. Castor will need the exercise.’

  And sh
e needed to think.

  Somewhere away from the distraction of his handsome face, and his tempting words, and his smouldering eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  It had jolted her to realise she’d fallen into the habit of speaking to him the way she’d always spoken to Gideon. Was she using him as a substitute? She had started out feeling that if she couldn’t nurse Gideon, doing something for another, seriously injured soldier was a sort of...not compensation, exactly. But something along those lines. The next best thing, then.

  Not that anybody could ever take Gideon’s place, not completely.

  Though she did feel closer to Tom than any other living soul. She valued his opinion. When he said good things about her, it made her feel all warm inside. Like curling up in front of a nursery fire when a storm raged outside.

  Was this love? Was she falling in love with Tom?

  How could she know?

  Though it would explain why it had meant something, to hear him say he loved her. She rather thought she did want Tom to love her. To have been in earnest. She’d always brushed aside any declaration of the sort before, knowing men said all sorts of things they didn’t mean. But Tom’s blunt admission that he loved her, coupled with his assumption that nothing could come of it, had sounded genuine. And had touched her. Deeply.

  Did that mean she loved him, too?

  And if she did, then...

  Oh, she couldn’t think about that. It was all happening too quickly. And she was still broken up inside about losing Gideon. Thinking of him cut to pieces by cavalry sabres. Worried about whether Justin would survive before she had a chance to mend fences with him. Because as sure as eggs were eggs she would never forgive herself if he died, with the suspicion that she’d somehow been the cause still hanging over her.

  Oh, bother Tom for talking about love at a time like this! For making her wonder if her own heart was susceptible, when all her life thus far she’d been immune.