“In what unconventional way did she meet your brother?” Athena asked curiously.
“He rescued her after she’d been kidnapped by smugglers.” Will grinned. “So they skipped superficial chat and went straight to deeper issues.”
“Kidnapped by smugglers. Of course! I should have remembered that’s the very best way to meet a husband,” Athena said with mock seriousness. “She sounds like an interesting woman.”
“You’ll like her,” Will promised as if a future meeting was inevitable. “But the two relationships, the wrong one and then the right one, inspired Kiri’s theory of how to quickly learn a great deal about a potential partner.”
“What is her suggested method?” Athena asked, reluctantly interested.
“To ask each other difficult questions, the kind that makes one reveal oneself,” he explained. “It isn’t easy, but the process is far more useful than exchanging pleasantries over tea and cakes or trying to converse in a noisy ballroom.”
She frowned. “That sounds deucedly uncomfortable. What if one party flatly refuses to participate?”
“Doesn’t that tell you something important right there?”
“It says that the prospective mate is uncomfortable with emotion and intimacy,” Athena said thoughtfully. “Most people are uncomfortable with revealing too much, of course, but one would hope for more from a possible mate.”
“Are you game for a few questions now?” he asked, his gaze intent. “If we don’t immediately alienate each other, we can continue to ask a question or two a day.”
She studied Will’s strong, honest face. She’d long since given up the idea that she’d ever marry and she doubted she’d change her mind, no matter how persuasive he might be. Even though he was the most appealing man she’d met in years. “I don’t think you’ll change my mind, Will. Is it worth the effort when I’m such a recalcitrant female?”
“I won’t regret the effort if you’re willing to try,” he said seriously. “I will regret it if you flatly refuse to make the attempt.”
When she hesitated, he continued, “It’s also a good way to build a deeper friendship, and we’re already on our way to achieving that.”
“What if a question is something one of us can’t bear to discuss?”
“Then it doesn’t get answered,” he said promptly. “This is all voluntary. A tool to improve our acquaintance, not a bludgeon.”
“Very well, I’ll try.” She smiled ruefully. “I’ve always had far too much curiosity. I’ll ask the first question so you can be the one alarmed and discomforted.”
“That’s only fair. Ask away!” he replied. “I suspect that any one question will probably lead into related questions. We’ll see.”
Where to start? Not with anything too difficult, she decided. “You identified yourself as from Oxfordshire as soon as we met, so your home is important to you. Tell me about it, not just what your home looks like, but how you feel about it.”
“Describing the house is easy. The oldest section of Hayden Hall goes back to Tudor times and bits and pieces have been added ever since. An architectural purist would shudder, but I find it—welcoming. As eccentric and charming as a favorite aunt.” He smiled with fond reminiscence. “Oxfordshire is lovely, with rolling hills and streams and fertile fields. It’s not far to Oxford, one of the most beautiful little cities in Europe. And London is also convenient when one is in the mood for city life.”
“You were a farmer, a landed gentleman, before you entered the army?”
He nodded. “I’ll have much to learn when I return, but I have a good and patient steward to teach me. I look forward to it. There is something very sane about growing crops and raising livestock.”
Beginning to understand the value of this exercise, she asked, “Why did you leave a comfortable life in a home you love? Was it youthful restlessness?”
A shadow crossed his face and he looked away from her. “I couldn’t bear to stay there after Lily died,” he said haltingly. “Whenever I entered a room, I felt as if she’d just stepped out, and if I looked hard enough, I’d find her. It was madness. I . . . I felt that if I stayed, I’d end up shooting myself.”
Yes, this kind of questioning was not easy. “So you chose to let the French do the shooting,” she said quietly.
“I thought at least I’d die doing something worthwhile.” He grimaced. “I didn’t realize that soldiers are more likely to die of fevers than bullets.”
“Will you still be haunted by Lily when you return home?” she asked, knowing this was one of those uncomfortable questions.
His brow furrowed as he thought about it. “I don’t think so. The memories of her are happy and . . . distant.”
“Do you love her still?” Athena asked softly.
Will sighed. “The young man I was then loved her deeply, but he didn’t survive all those muddy fields on the Peninsula. I’m not that young man anymore.” He raised his eyes and studied her face. “Now it’s time for me to ask a question and make you uncomfortable.”
“That’s only fair,” she said without enthusiasm. “Ask away.”
“Tell me about Lady Delilah.”
She caught her breath, realizing that such a question was inevitable. Her mother had been such an important part of Athena’s life that she must be discussed.
But dear Lord, how could she possibly explain her mother?
Chapter 10
After Will asked his question, Athena stared at her interlocked fingers, her face frozen. Quietly he asked, “Should I start with something simpler?”
Athena rose from the bench in one swift movement and began prowling around beneath the overhang. “No, if we are going to be digging into each other’s souls, I must speak of her. But Delilah is . . . hard to explain.”
Guessing she didn’t know where to start, Will asked, “Was her name really Delilah?”
“She was christened Cordelia and called Delia when she was a child.” Athena crossed her arms across her waist and continued to pace. “When she left the schoolroom at sixteen and realized that she could persuade any man to do anything, she announced that she wished to be called Delilah. It was such a suitable name that soon everyone called her that.”
“Even her parents?” Will asked, surprised.
“I don’t suppose they did, but her father threw her out of the house when she was seventeen so the issue was moot.”
“A well-born girl that young was disowned?” Will tried to imagine doing such a thing to a child of his, and couldn’t. “That’s appalling!”
“She was in no danger of starving,” Athena said dryly. “She moved into the home of an Austrian diplomat three times her age and became his mistress. She was pampered outrageously until she decided that she was bored and left him for another man.”
“So she was beautiful, like you.”
Athena gave him an incredulous glance. “You’re joking again. I was never more than average-looking, even as a child. One could easily see that we were related, but Delilah was stunning. Tall—but not too tall, as I am. Dazzling dark red hair, not brown like mine. Charming and outgoing—not practical and reserved, as I am.”
“Except when you have a rifle in hand?”
She smiled a little. “That was practicality, not an outgoing personality.”
She resumed her pacing, the divided skirt swinging provocatively around her shapely ankles. “But more than her physical beauty, she had . . . sensual allure. Even the most happily married men would stare and wonder what it would be like to bed her. You could see it in their eyes.”
“She sounds like a . . . challenging parent,” Will said carefully.
Athena stopped pacing and stared at the stony wall of the overhang. “I loved her more than anyone else in my life.”
“I hope she loved you as much in return,” Will said before he realized that might be a painful comment if her mother hadn’t been a loving person.
“She did.” Athena turned to face him, her arms still crossed at
her waist as if her stomach hurt. “I was not an accident, but a pampered pet and companion. She told me often that more than anything in the world, she’d wanted a daughter to love. I gather her parents were cold and disapproving, so she did her best to give them much to disapprove of. That included having a bastard child.”
It sounded monstrously selfish to Will, but he couldn’t wish Athena had been unborn. Perhaps she had been an accident and her mother told her otherwise to make her feel wanted. “Being her pet and companion sounds both wonderful and terrible.”
Athena smiled humorlessly. “It was both.”
“Was Athena a family name?”
“She said that when I was born, I looked like a serious little owl. Since the owl is the symbol of Athena, the name suited me. Also, of course, Athena was the goddess of wisdom and she wanted me to be well educated and well traveled and wise.” Athena’s smile became real. “The first two are true. ‘Wise’ is debatable.”
Will laughed. “What would she have done if you’d been a boy?”
“I’m not sure. She would have loved a son because she had a great capacity for loving. But the relationship would have been very different from what she and I had. I think it was better for all concerned that she had a daughter.”
Certainly it was better for Will. “From what you’ve said, it sounds as if Delilah spent much of her time having passionate affairs. What was she like as a mother?”
“She was a wonderful companion, always interested in new things and taking me to new places. Even when she was in the early throes of an affair, she would take time to be with me, and she would instantly break with any lover who was rude to me.”
“Did that happen often?”
“No, she always made clear to her lovers that if they wanted to be with her, they must treat me with courtesy and respect. Some of them gave me splendid gifts to curry favor with Delilah.” Athena smiled reminiscently. “The best was a beautiful little pony when I was six. I hated saying good-bye to that pony, but we traveled a great deal and seldom stayed anywhere longer than a few months. Delilah always engaged excellent tutors wherever we were, so I learned all kinds of interesting things. How to use firearms because she said a woman must know how to defend herself. She often moved in diplomatic and government circles, so she discussed politics and statecraft with me. If we stayed on someone’s estate, she would ask the land steward to explain planting and animal husbandry. It was . . . an unusual way to grow up, but wonderful and exciting.” Athena’s eyes closed and her voice cracked. “She was everything to me.”
Tired of looking up at his companion, Will rose from the bench and took a relaxed position against the stone wall opposite where Athena was standing. “The drawback, surely, was that when you lost her, you had no one else.”
Athena opened her eyes and smiled with brittle humor. “You are much cleverer than you look, Will.”
He thought a moment. “Should I be insulted?”
Her tension eased into a genuine smile. “I hope you aren’t. What I meant was that you look like a solid, unimaginative officer, vastly competent but not . . . not . . .”
“Not very intelligent?” he suggested.
Athena bit her lip as if suppressing laughter. “I would rather end my sentence by saying you don’t look particularly imaginative. Or insightful. But you are both.”
“Being imaginative, I’m now wondering if one of your mother’s wandering amorous adventures brought you to San Gabriel.”
“Much cleverer than you look! My mother met Prince Alfonso when he was in London and followed him back here. She was a great favorite with the whole royal family, so we were welcome to stay even when the affair burned out. We lived here long enough for me to learn the language and make friends, and visited again later. I was told to call the king and queen Uncle Carlos and Aunt Isabella. She and the king had lively discussion about how to run a small country, and she let me sit in when they did. That proved really useful when I ended up being an advisor to Sofia.”
“Which is why Prince Alfonso confuses you with Lady Delilah. Is San Gabriel as much of a home as you’ve ever had?”
Athena’s brow furrowed. “I suppose it is. The longest I’ve ever spent anywhere else was in school, and I hated the place.”
Since it didn’t sound as if Delilah would have put her in a hateful school, Will asked, “Were you sent there after your mother died?”
Athena nodded and began pacing again. “I was fourteen. Delilah was very ill and she explained to me that she was dying, so she must put me under my father’s protection. I was devastated, of course.” Her paces tightened to swift, tense steps. “She took me to my father’s family seat and marched in with me beside her. He was furious and horrified, yet I could see that he also still desired her.”
Will frowned, imagining what such a meeting must have been like for Athena. “It doesn’t sound like a scene that any fourteen-year-old should have to witness.”
Athena sighed. “I needed to be there, if only to meet my father for the first and last time. Delilah told him that I was a good, intelligent, obedient girl who would be a credit to him.”
“Were you obedient?” Will asked with mild surprise.
She shrugged. “When I wanted to be. Not that it mattered what she said about me. My father was revolted by my existence, but apparently the resemblance to his legitimate children was strong enough that he couldn’t deny fathering me, particularly since he’d known of my existence since Delilah first found herself increasing. He snarled that I would be cared for and slammed out of the room.”
“My father was not an easy man, but he was a saint by comparison,” Will said sympathetically. “Your father sounds appalling.”
“Based on our very brief acquaintance, that’s an accurate description. But he did fulfill his word to see that I was cared for.”
“And your mother trusted him enough to know that he would. That’s an interesting point.”
“Yes, it is.” Athena looked thoughtful. “He’s an English gentleman who prides himself on behaving honorably, though I doubt if you’d agree with his definition of ‘honorable.’ He was so rich that supporting one schoolgirl was nothing to him, but he could have sent me to a workhouse rather than fulfilling his responsibilities. So he could have been worse.”
“Yet he did send you to a school you hated.”
She grimaced. “It was a grim girls’ school in a ramshackle manor house by the Irish Sea. The icy winter drafts would blow papers off a desk. The headmistress followed that fine Christian dictum that sparing the rod would spoil the child. All the students hated the place, so I became a convenient target for malice because of being a bastard. Too tall, too different, and far too illegitimate. I developed a truly intimidating glare when other girls went too far, and I studied a lot, which kept me busy and improved my mind.”
Will winced as he imagined years of living in such a place. “Was your father deliberately trying to punish you for existing?”
“I don’t know. Probably he didn’t care where I went as long as it was out of his sight. He might have specified a very strict school to counter the wild tendencies I must have inherited from Delilah.”
Even at fourteen, she would have been independent and ingenious. Will asked, “Did you ever try to escape from the school?”
“I thought about it.” A faint smile flickered over her lips. “I really thought about it. But I had no place to go in England, and no money. I couldn’t possibly have made it here to San Gabriel, the only place likely to welcome me. So I endured.”
“Were you ever told what your future held?”
“The solicitor who took me to the school said I would be there until I was eighteen, at which point I could leave and I would be granted a modest but adequate quarterly allowance on the condition that I never tell anyone I was related to my father’s family. Delilah and I had used the name Markham, which was in her family several generations back. There was no obvious connection to my father’s family, so I was a
ble to continue using the name. Generous of him, wasn’t it?”
Will suppressed a strong urge to find out who her father was so the man could be throttled. “Your father should have been whipped!”
“Members of the House of Lords wield the whips,” she said dryly. “They don’t suffer under them. You can see why I am not fond of peers of the realm. Both my grandfathers were lords. The one on my mother’s side I never met at all.”
As a member of the House of Lords himself, Will said, “Not all lords are so dreadful. I went to school with some who are very good fellows.”
“Then I hope they treat their bastard descendants better than my grandfathers did. Your own brother would not have fared well if not for you. But enough of that.” Athena made a dismissive gesture. “It’s time for you to bare your soul and do some more suffering. What are the three worst things that have happened to you? The loss of your wife is surely on the list. What about the loss of your mother? Your father?”
She was right. The knife cut both ways, and it was time for him to speak of things he had long buried. “The siege of Badajoz would make the list of most dreadful things for anyone who was there, but that’s a broadly shared horror. Perhaps we need a separate category for such terrors? Having lived here for the war years, surely you have similar memories.”
She made a face. “None so bad as Badajoz, but bad enough. Another day, perhaps. I’m more interested in what personal trials have tempered you.”
“I dislike ranking tragedies,” he said slowly. “Losing Lily and our son was certainly the first great tragedy of my life, and the event that most changed my life, because if she hadn’t died, I never would have joined the army.”
“Living in England and raising a family would have been such a very different path from the one you’re on,” she mused, her gaze assessing. “I’ve heard the tales of mud and slaughter and horror. The Peninsular Wars have been brutal. Do you regret walking this path?”
He’d not really thought of his life in terms of the path taken versus the one ended by tragedy. “I do not regret the army,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I feel as if I’ve contributed to a worthy goal, and I have made strong friendships. But I’m ready for a change. The peacetime army would be deucedly boring.”
Once a Soldier Page 8