“And you need to rest a bit before you face your throng of admirers.”
“Yes. Harrison informed me we’d be leaving early.” He stood on wobbly legs. “We don’t want to cause the Duke of Chisolmwood undue anxiety by being tardy.”
She stood first and turned. “Do you want me to call for help?”
He shook his head. “I’m getting quite accomplished as long as I don’t have to stand too long.”
He took one shaky step, then another. His leg was stiff from sitting in the cold for so long, but eventually he felt as if it would support him. He took another step and felt her hand touch his elbow. The gesture made him smile. “Don’t attempt to catch me if I fall,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice, although he was serious.
“Are you afraid I’m not strong enough to catch you?”
“I think you are brave enough to try. But I don’t want to risk hurting you.”
“Would that you had felt that way a year ago.”
Gabriel stumbled, then righted himself. For several long seconds he focused on a squirrel scampering from tree to tree. He knew he should ignore her barb. He had hurt her. Although the fault wasn’t his, it didn’t lessen the pain he’d caused her.
He tried to take another step forward but couldn’t. He couldn’t leave things as they were. With a heart heavy in his chest, he turned toward her and looked into her eyes. Even though it had been nearly a year and a half, the hurt was still there. He shifted the cane in his right hand to grip it in the crook of his left elbow, then lifted his hand and brushed his fingers down her silky cheek.
Her skin was soft and velvety, her cheeks cool and rosy red from the chill in the air. Or it might have been from the closeness they shared. He couldn’t tell.
“I’m sorry, Liddy. If there had been any other choice a year ago, I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
Frown lines deepened across her forehead, the confused look in her eyes indicating she didn’t understand.
“Then why did you?”
“Because I didn’t have a choice.”
“You mean because I wouldn’t come with a dowry if we married against Father’s wishes.”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The crestfallen expression told him she had her answer.
She stepped away from him and shuddered a small gasp. She stood there a moment, then turned her head, and Gabriel knew it was too late. It had been too late from the moment he’d walked away from her in this same garden a little more than a year ago.
On legs that trembled beneath him, he walked away from her again. Only this time the hurt was more intense than it had been the last time.
…
He looked around the crowded ballroom and shifted the weight from his injured leg. Only two hours had passed since they’d arrived and already he felt as if this night would never end.
The ball was a resounding success. Everyone who’d crowded into Chisolmwood’s elegant town house remarked on it. And the Duke of Chisolmwood preened as proudly as if the Queen were his honored guest instead of an injured army major. He hated every second he was forced to add to the duke’s exalted reputation.
Even though Chisolmwood’s townhouse was one of the larger, more elaborate homes on London’s fashionable West End, the crowd was so huge there was hardly room to move. Everyone who was anyone was there. Those who hadn’t returned to the city earlier in the month had made certain to arrive in time to attend the gala event. It promised to be an evening that would be talked about for weeks to come.
He couldn’t wait for it to be over.
Gabriel pulled his attention back to the topic the growing group of men surrounding him discussed. He’d not been alone all evening. There’d been a crush vying for his attention since the first guests had arrived. For several hours he’d been forced to listen to the men expound on the virtues of a war they considered Britain had won when they didn’t have the vaguest idea why they’d chosen to fight. And not one of them could fathom how horrendous the conditions had been.
He breathed a labored sigh and leaned his hip against a tall stool a footman had placed nearby. Wherever he went, a liveried servant magically appeared with a stool tall enough for him to lean against so he could keep the full weight off his leg. He preferred to think that Lydia had arranged for his comfort and not Chisolmwood.
He thought of Liddy and searched for her. She was near the double French doors talking with a group of young ladies. Bloody hell, she was the beauty among them.
She’d pulled her hair loosely back from her face with a dark velvet ribbon that intertwined amid the curls that cascaded down her neck. She looked stunning in a gown of the deepest green. The color made her skin glow with a pearlescent luster and the style accentuated her lush figure. The flickering candles from the chandeliers cast a luminescence around her and his body reacted as dangerously as it had two weeks ago when Harrison and Chisolmwood had walked in on them.
She laughed. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and her cheeks flushed brightly, whether from the heat or from excitement, he couldn’t know. None of the other females here could compare. But it wasn’t just her beauty that set her apart. It was her intelligence and her strength and the way she carried herself that made her so special. She would make the perfect duchess for the future duke.
He looked for the elusive Marquess of Culbertson. Even though they’d never met, he was certain he’d recognize him. Lydia had described him often enough. Tall of stature, blond good looks, striking carriage, and the aura of authority Gabriel knew would surround him. No, he hadn’t arrived yet. There were several young men hovering close by, but none of them resembled the paragon of manliness Culbertson was reported to be.
Gabriel was glad. Hearing Lydia describe him with such glowing enthusiasm was one thing. Putting a face to the man who would one day have a right to hold the woman he loved, touch her, make love to her, was another.
So, he watched her from afar, drinking in his fill of her, feasting on every perfect detail, memorizing the way she looked so he could recall her image when he was no longer able to see her.
As if she realized he watched her, she turned her head and their gazes locked. She smiled, then hooked her gloved hand through the arm of one of the other young ladies standing near her and pulled her friend toward him. Dozens of heads turned to watch them.
The young woman with Lydia was as dark as Lydia was fair. Her hair gleamed just a shade darker than rich polished mahogany. She was a little taller than Lydia and her build was perhaps a little fuller, but one couldn’t help but be in awe of her beauty.
He stood as they approached, willing his screaming thigh muscle to silence itself.
“Major Talbot,” Lydia said when she reached him. “Allow me to present Lady Emmeline Frendsdale. Emmeline, Major Gabriel Talbot.”
“Lady Emmeline.”
“Major Talbot, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you.” She leaned forward and spoke softly. “I refuse to mention your heroism though, unless you want me to bring the subject up again.”
He smiled. “No, I prefer you don’t.”
“As I thought.” There was an intelligent gleam in her eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice that you seem decidedly uncomfortable with the attention everyone showers upon you.”
“I am forever in your debt.” He smiled first at Lady Emmeline, then at Lydia.
Lydia stepped forward and nodded to a nearby footman. The liveried servant discreetly moved the stool closer to Gabe.
“Please, sit down, Major.” Lydia glanced toward the stool. “I told Emmeline that you’d been monopolized long enough with talk of war and battles and the happenings in different parts of the world. You appear in need of a respite.”
“You always were an astute observer.” Gabriel leaned against the stool. “Are you ladies enjoying the evening?”
“Oh, yes,” Emmeline replied. “I can’t remember seeing such a crush except at the height of the season. The duke has you to thank for giving him
the distinction of hosting the affair of the year.”
Even though Gabriel knew it was true, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Being among the first to receive the new Victoria Cross had put him unexpectedly in a small, very elite group. The Queen’s medal for valor in battle still seemed far too shiny where it rested on his chest.
He clenched his jaw in frustration. “Yes, it’s too bad the Marquess of Culbertson isn’t here to enjoy it.”
“He’ll be here,” Lydia said with a confident smile on her face. “He had an important meeting and was obviously detained.”
Gabriel expected Lydia to be anxious for Culbertson to arrive, but only Lady Emmeline glanced toward the stairs. He thought he might comment on Liddy’s lack of interest but the Marquess of Bendendine and the Earl of Canesport chose that moment to interrupt.
“The Chancellor’s Lady docked this morning with more soldiers returning from the Crimea, Talbot. I suppose you’ve heard?” Bendendine said, placing one hand on his protruding stomach. “It won’t be long before we have all our boys home.”
Gabriel pulled his attention away from Lydia and Lady Emmeline. “Yes. Except for the young men who will never return.”
Bendendine cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that is the tragedy of war. There will always be fatalities.”
“But I dare say we showed them where the strength in Europe lay,” the slightly inebriated Canesport slurred. “The Russians should never have been so foolish as to think they could battle us and win.”
That remark was followed by the enthusiastic murmur of agreement and the nodding of heads. More onlookers joined the circle. Harrison was among them.
“Everyone knows the war only lasted as long as it did because of Russia’s disregard for her soldiers’ safety,” a portly gentleman said.
“Our soldiers have always shown themselves well,” the Earl of Hollingsworth added. “And our officers are the finest in the world. Always have been.”
“Do you agree, Major Talbot?” Bendendine asked.
Of all the men he’d met this evening, Bendendine had been the most curious, had been the most interested when Gabriel was asked a question.
“No, sir. I’m afraid I don’t.”
A deafening stillness silenced the group, then everyone in the growing circle turned toward him with frowns on their foreheads.
“Are you saying that our soldiers didn’t show themselves well?” Canesport bristled.
“Absolutely not,” Gabriel began. “The soldiers who fought in the Crimea were the bravest, most noble men ever to have put on British uniforms.”
“Then what are you implying, Major?”
He looked into Harrison’s hooded gaze and fought the war waging within him. He wasn’t sure if this was the time or place to say what needed to be said, but he owed it to the tens of thousands of men who’d died to tell their story. Finally, Harrison answered his internal debate for him.
“I think you should explain yourself,” Harrison said. “Many of the men here tonight have no idea what you, or my brother, or the rest of the men we sent to fight in the Crimea endured. I think the world deserves to know.”
Gabriel began cautiously, explaining in detail the conditions in the Crimea. The longer he talked, the larger the crowd of men, and even some women, grew. Mostly they listened, but a few asked questions. A majority seemed interested, and all were appalled.
“Are you saying the Russians were more concerned with their men than we were?” Canesport asked, his tone defensive.
“What I’m saying is that our men arrived on foreign soil totally unprepared, and were forced to endure hardships that were intolerable. Perhaps the next time we are so eager to send our men to fight, they should be provided military equipment that isn’t outdated, and we should make sure they don’t have to scavenge the clothes off their fallen comrades’ bodies because their own threadbare uniforms can’t keep them warm.”
More eager guests crowded around them and a voice from the back of the circle encouraged him to continue. He did.
“Before we abandon our men on foreign shores, we should make sure we provide winter quarters so they aren’t forced to live in the open during the freezing winters without any more covering than the canvas of their tents. And that they are at least given a heavy coat, and that we provide enough support personnel that they don’t have to chop tree roots from the frozen ground after a full days’ battle because that is all that is left for firewood.”
“What do you suggest we do about this?” a quiet voice filled with authority asked, and Gabriel lifted his gaze.
The gentleman was tall and broad-shouldered, and held himself in a regal stance that exhibited an undeniable air of authority.
Gabriel had no doubt he faced the Marquess of Culbertson.
Chapter Eight
So, this was the man Lydia would marry. The man who would give her a house filled with laughter and children. Who would come home to find her waiting for him with open arms.
Gabriel studied him, thinking to find some flaw. He didn’t. He only saw a keen intelligence he couldn’t help but admire. He could see why she was enamored of him. They were perfectly suited to each other.
“Major Talbot,” Harrison said stepping between them. “Allow me to present the Marquess of Culbertson.”
Culbertson inclined his head. “Major. Thank you for bringing these atrocities to our attention. Now, how do you suggest we go about crafting reform?”
Gabriel had heard enough from Lydia to know Culbertson’s reputation and influence was admired throughout England. He also knew he had within hearing one of the most powerful men in London. The opportunity to bring about the necessary changes for the soldiers willing to lay down their lives for their country was here and now. No matter what his personal feelings were for Culbertson, he knew he couldn’t waste this opportunity to help the men who would fight in future wars.
He rose from his stool and faced the marquess. “Thanks to the Times of London and the pictures they ran as evidence of what was happening, conditions improved the last year. Alexis Soyer, the head chef of the Reform Club in London, arrived and there was finally adequate food to feed the starving soldiers. Then, Miss Florence Nightingale arrived with her forty nurses, and the wounded and dying at least had someone to make their last few hours more comfortable, or simply hold their hand while they died.”
A few soft sniffles echoed in the silence that followed Gabriel’s last statement. Several ladies dabbed at their eyes, and even a few of the men.
“But until legislation is enacted,” he said, casting his gaze over the crowd listening to him, “there is no guarantee anything will improve for the next group of soldiers sent to protect Britain’s interests.”
Culbertson turned toward Harrison. “Is there any connection to this and the reason you have asked to speak before the House of Lords when it opens, Etherington?”
Harrison nodded. “After reading the horrors in the Times, and listening to the first-hand accounts from my brother and Major Talbot, I feel the need to reform our military system is desperate. If there hadn’t been such a public outcry from the families of those soldiers who’d written of the conditions in their letters, we wouldn’t have seen even the small improvements we did. It’s time the government takes responsibility for the soldiers we send to war.”
Applause broke out from the crowd who’d been listening to Gabriel and Etherington.
Culbertson spoke up again. “I agree. If you need someone to stand at your side, Etherington, you can count on me.”
“Me, too,” Bendendine said. “I haven’t had a good cause to fight for in a long time. I can’t think of one more worthy. Will you agree to be on hand should the need arise, Major?”
“Of course,” he answered, then lowered himself to the stool a footman pushed closer. His leg ached abominably and he knew he’d be lucky if he could make it out of bed tomorrow. But he’d accomplished the goal he’d set for tonight. With Harrison and Culbertson leading the revolt fo
r change, success was almost guaranteed.
“We’ll meet at the club tomorrow and begin our strategy,” the Earl of Canesport said, the rallying cry already spreading through Chisolmwood’s ballroom.
En masse, the men followed Harrison to the other side of the room, leaving Lydia, her friend Emmeline, and the Marquess of Culbertson standing with Gabriel.
“Thank you, Major,” Culbertson said when they were alone. “What you said tonight did more to further the cause for military reform than any of a dozen speeches Etherington or I could have given before the House.”
Culbertson looked to where the men enthusiastically formulated their plan. “And we couldn’t have hoped for more influential champions than the men here tonight. Every future soldier owes you a great deal.”
“I’m glad I could play a part. Change is long overdue.”
“Anyone with a son or father or husband over there knows how horrible it was.” Culbertson took a glass from a passing footman’s tray. He took a second glass and handed it to Gabriel. “But we are being terribly neglectful, Major.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “We’ve ignored these lovely ladies unmercifully.”
“Nonsense,” Lydia said, answering his warm smile with one of her own. “Both your opinion and Major Talbot’s are fascinating. Who better to champion such a cause than two men with your experience and knowledge?”
“Oh, yes,” Lady Emmeline added, her eyes gleaming in adoration. “The welfare of our soldiers is vitally important. Those of us who don’t have a voice appreciate the stand you are willing to take.”
Culbertson’s gaze lingered on Lady Emmeline, then moved to Lydia and his smile broadened. “Be that as it may, we’ve ignored you long enough. I’m sure you’d both like a glass of punch. Allow me to escort you to a refreshment table.” He offered Lydia his arm.
Gabriel saw how naturally Lydia placed her hand on his sleeve and a knot twisted in his gut. He was jealous and he had no right to be. He’d given up any claim on Lydia more than a year ago.
“Would you care to join us, Major?” Culbertson offered Lady Emmeline his other arm.
Heroes of Honor: Historical Romance Collection Page 62