Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress

by Diane Gaston

  To her surprise he walked directly towards her. Her breath caught. There could be no more impressive a man than he, elegant and masculine in his formal attire.

  Blanche came to Marian’s side and spoke first. ‘Why, Mr Landon. How good to see you.’

  He bowed to her and to Marian. ‘You are looking exceptionally beautiful tonight, Mrs Nunn.’ His eyes shone with genuine appreciation.

  Blanche flushed under the compliment. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He turned to Marian, his expression guarded. He nodded. ‘Marian.’

  ‘Does not Marian look lovely tonight, as well?’ Blanche asked.

  His eyes flickered over her. ‘As always.’

  Marian felt her body awaken under his gaze. She fought the sensation. ‘Captain.’

  A fleeting sadness shone in his eyes, before he turned to Blanche again. ‘Would you do me the honour of the first dance, Mrs Nunn.’

  Blanche glanced at Marian.

  Marian smiled. ‘Goodness, do not refuse him, Blanche.’

  ‘I do not like to leave you alone,’ Blanche said.

  Marian laughed and let her gaze sweep the room. ‘In this crowd? I shall not be alone. Besides, we have just walked in. I may yet find a partner.’

  ‘Then, yes.’ Blanche beamed at the captain.

  ‘I will find you when the dancing starts.’ He bowed and walked away.

  ‘Do you really not mind?’ Blanche asked.

  ‘Of course not!’ Marian replied a little too brightly. ‘You love to dance.’

  On the contrary, when the captain had asked Blanche to dance, Marian warmed to him. Being engaged for the first dance by such a man would increase Blanche’s social consequence. As a lady’s companion, she might have easily not been asked at all, but she did look so lovely, Marian expected she would not want for partners this night.

  She and Blanche walked through the room, exchanging pleasantries with people with whom they’d lately become acquainted. At the same time, Marian searched the room for the captain or fancied his eyes upon her when she looked away.

  When it was announced that the dancing would start, his gaze merely touched hers before he took Blanche and led her on to the dance floor. As it turned out, Marian did not have a partner, so she watched them from her spot against one wall as the captain took Blanche’s hand and, with the other dancers, formed two circles, one moving inside the other. The captain performed the dance without effort. His footwork was not perfect, but he danced as if he cared less for his own feet than for the enjoyment of his partner.

  Marian envied Blanche.

  Edwin sidled up to her. ‘Oh, Lawd. Look at Ullman.’

  Lord Ullman danced energetically, but was stiff and very slightly off the beat. He beamed adoringly at Domina, however.

  ‘He appears to be enjoying himself very well,’ she said to Edwin.

  ‘He’s a buffoon.’ Edwin held a glass of wine in his fingers. He drank the contents in one gulp.

  Marian glared at him. ‘You are drinking!’

  He sniffed. ‘It is one glass of wine. A man might have one glass without getting drunk.’

  She looked into his eyes. His returning glance was steady. ‘Take care, Edwin. Do not drink too much.’

  He rubbed his scar. ‘I will not drink too much. It was just that one time. Have I repeated it?’

  ‘Not in front of me,’ she admitted. ‘Not yet.’

  He glanced around. ‘Where is your companion? Isn’t she hired to keep you company?’

  Marian inclined her head to the dance floor. ‘She is dancing.’

  ‘I’m affronted for you. You should be on the dance floor and she should be—’ He gazed at the dancers and stopped talking. ‘I see her,’ he finally said.

  Blanche was asked by another man to dance the next set, a quadrille. Marian danced the next set, as well, and the one after that, a Scottish reel. Her dance partners were perfectly charming gentlemen, but Marian was more attuned to where the captain was at all times than to their company.

  She was standing out in a line dance when she caught Edwin snatching a glass of wine from a passing footman and drinking it straight down. Later, at the supper, his voice carried across the room. She watched him sway as he walked towards her table, another glass in hand instead of food. He carefully lowered himself into a chair next to her.

  Lord Ullman and Domina had stopped by Marian’s table, but Domina had dispatched Lord Ullman to fetch her one of the tiny cakes from the buffet.

  ‘Did you ever think that I would be giving such a grand party?’ she chattered on to Marian. ‘Does not the ballroom look transformed? Ullie said I could spend whatever I wished so I filled the room with flowers. It is a wonder we had space to dance. Are not the musicians grand? Ullie says they have played for the Prince Regent and were once engaged to perform at the Regent’s palace in Brighton. You know, his Royal Highness is having the palace entirely redone. Ullie says we shall be invited there to see it—’

  ‘Well, won’t that be grand, Domina,’ Edwin said with great sarcasm and in much too loud a voice.

  ‘There you go being a nuisance again, Edwin,’ Domina countered. ‘Some people never change. Tell me, who is beating you up these days?’

  ‘You always were a shrew—’ Edwin began.

  Marian interrupted. ‘Domina, I think your husband needs your help at the buffet. He just looked back here for you.’ He had not done so at all, of course.

  ‘He needs me?’ Domina shot out of her chair. ‘I must go to him at once.’

  When she had gone Marian turned to Edwin. ‘You are behaving very badly,’ she told him in a fierce whisper.

  He merely laughed and gazed around the room with a vacant eye. She twisted away completely and joined Blanche in conversing with the other people at the table. When she glanced up she found the captain watching her from across the room.

  It was announced that the dancing was about to resume, and a gentleman approached Blanche to engage her for the set. Marian followed them into the ballroom with Edwin right on her heels. With an apologetic glance, Blanche left her to take a place on the dance floor.

  Edwin gazed around the room. ‘You should dance with me.’

  She did not even look at him. ‘I think not.’

  ‘C’mon.’ He seized her arm. ‘I want to.’

  ‘You are too drunk,’ she whispered.

  ‘Have to have a couple of drinks or it is no fun. C’mon.’ He pulled her.

  ‘Release me, Edwin. You risk making a scene.’ She tried to wriggle away from him.

  His grip tightened and his voice turned to a growl. ‘Are you refusing me, Marian? In front of all these people?’

  Someone appeared behind him.

  Captain Landon!

  ‘Ah, there you are, Miss Pallant,’ he said in a clear voice. ‘We are engaged for this dance, I believe.’

  She was almost too grateful to speak. ‘Yes, Captain, I believe we are.’

  Edwin was still gripping her arm when she put her hand in the captain’s.

  ‘If you will excuse us, Edwin,’ he said loud enough for others to notice and to turn curious glances towards them.

  Edwin released her and backed away, an angry sneer on his scarred face.

  The music began, and Marian and the captain joined hands and marched into place. He bowed and she curtsied, and he took her in his arms at the precise moment the music of the German waltz required him to sweep her around the room.

  She gazed up at him. ‘You have rescued me again, Captain.’

  His eyes were dark and warm. ‘I suspect we are even.’

  ‘Even?’ Her brows rose.

  ‘You saved my life at least twice.’ He twirled her under his arm and then held her again. ‘Once by tending my wounds and once from the peasant’s axe.’

  ‘You cannot do sums,’ she countered. ‘You picked me up when the whole French army was chasing me. You pulled me out of the burning château. And you saved me from Edwin once before…in my hall.’

>   ‘Then you owe me.’ His voice deepened. ‘How shall you repay?’

  Her body came alive to him and ached with wanting more. ‘How may I?’

  The waltz was once considered scandalous because the man held the woman, albeit at arm’s length. The captain breached propriety and drew her close so their bodies almost touched.

  He whispered in her ear. ‘Do not risk a hanging.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  The fire inside Marian cooled. She tried to pull away, but the captain held her firmly as he twirled her around the room. ‘Abandon this plan, Marian. Make Yost call it off. Sidmouth does not yet know the time or place, but he is getting close.’

  A frisson of fear ran up her back, but she forced herself to ignore it. ‘I will not abandon our soldiers.’

  ‘There are other ways to help them,’ he insisted.

  She shook her head. ‘This is the way I have chosen.’

  He resumed a proper distance, but she remained in a swirl of emotions. Was he truly warning her out of his concern for her, or did he simply want to stop the march? Did he care about her or about his job?

  She did not know. She only knew that she felt captured by his gaze and quite helpless to look away. She yearned to be making love with him, to be held by him in bed, but he was her enemy, intent on foiling her plans.

  His eyes seemed like mirrors, reflecting identical longing and regret. Time ceased and the room blurred and she could see nothing but the captain, her Captain again, the man who’d captured her heart.

  The music stopped and he reluctantly released her.

  It was too much to bear. She curtsied and stepped away from him. ‘Excuse me, Captain—’

  She fled into the crush of people, to the ladies’ retiring room, waiting there long enough for him to have asked another woman for the next dance. When she ventured out again she threaded her way through rooms where guests talked to each other in small groups. Lord Sidmouth, in a deep discussion with another gentleman, approached from the opposite direction.

  Loathe to be forced to even greet him, Marian ducked behind a huge jardinière of flowers. To her dismay, the two men paused next to the flowers, within two feet of her.

  She heard Sidmouth’s companion ask, ‘How did you learn so much about Yost?’

  Sidmouth replied, ‘Sent in a spy. Knew his neighbour…’ The men continued walking.

  But Marian had heard enough.

  Allan completed his second circuit of the ballroom and made his way back to the hallway, searching for her.

  Not that he expected her to dance with him again or even speak to him. He merely wanted to keep her in sight, as if that alone would save her.

  He closed his eyes as the pain of his helplessness washed through him. All he could do was try to convince her to get the march cancelled before Sidmouth discovered her involvement. With Edwin in Sidmouth’s employ it was even more dangerous for her to be a part of this.

  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

  And saw Marian advancing on him like charging cavalry.

  ‘I would speak with you alone, Captain,’ she demanded.

  He nodded and led her to a niche near the stairs where they could be private. ‘We can speak here.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘You used me.’

  ‘I never—’ he tried to protest.

  ‘You only pretended to love me.’ Her voice was low and angry. ‘I overheard Sidmouth. You used me to spy on Mr Yost.’

  His worst fear had come true. ‘Listen to me, Marian. It is not that simple—’

  ‘Simple? Do not say you have some complicated explanation, some convincing denial.’ Her breathing accelerated. ‘Like your very convincing denial of a Frenchwoman in Paris.’

  ‘That was the truth—’

  She would not allow him to continue. ‘Truth? Do you expect me to believe you now? You deceived me. You were sent to call on me. I was merely part of a task you were assigned to perform.’ She made a strangled sound in her throat. ‘What did Sidmouth say, Captain? “See if she will whisper secrets into your pillow?” Or did you merely seek entry to my room to see out of the window?’

  ‘Marian—’

  She held up a hand. ‘Say no more. I will no longer believe any of it. And I am not stopping the march. So arrest me if you must.’

  ‘I do not wish to arrest you.’ He emphasised each word.

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Oh, but you might be forced to.’

  He seized her by the shoulders. ‘Enough!’ He leaned into her face. ‘Remember that you involved yourself in this danger, Marian. Not me. I am trying to extricate you from it. I’m trying to keep you from hanging by your neck.’

  Her lips quivered and apprehension flickered in her eyes. ‘I cannot stop it now,’ she whispered.

  Their gazes caught briefly. Allan released her and Marian again fled from him.

  He pressed his forehead against the wall. How was he to save her now?

  His only hope was to learn what he could about the march. Perhaps Yost could be persuaded to stop it if Allan could show him that Sidmouth knew the time and place and would be ready to arrest them all. Allan now had no illusions about Sidmouth. He was convinced the man employed agent provocateurs, and suspected that Edwin had agreed to become one.

  Allan was no longer in Sidmouth’s confidence. He had no guarantee he could learn enough to save Marian. He did not know how much time they had before it would be too late.

  He walked back to the ballroom. Marian had retreated to one of the chairs against the wall. He stood on the other side of the room, unable to resist watching her. The last dance ended and the guests filed out.

  Allan followed and, in the crush of people waiting for hats and cloaks, saw a drunken Edwin approach her. Marian seemed to be speaking hotly to him.

  ‘Carriage for Miss Pallant,’ the butler announced.

  Edwin seemed to glue himself to Marian’s side as she and Blanche walked out. Allan pushed his way through the crowd, reaching the pavement just as a footman assisted Blanche inside the carriage. Marian continued arguing with Edwin. She ascended the carriage step, but Edwin was right behind her.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Edwin slurred.

  She turned to him, framed in the carriage doorway. ‘No, Edwin.’

  ‘I’m coming.’ Edwin demanded. He shoved her inside.

  Allan surged ahead and seized Edwin by his coat collar, pulling him off the step. ‘Not so fast.’

  Edwin swung around with fury in his eyes.

  ‘I have need of you, Edwin,’ Allan said to him, not wanting to cause Marian any embarrassment.

  Her gaze caught Allan’s as the footman closed the door and the carriage moved away.

  Allan took hold of Edwin’s arm and walked him away from the other guests.

  ‘See here, Landon!’ Edwin cried. ‘You take your hands off me!’

  Allan released him. ‘You are too drunk to be fit company for ladies.’

  ‘She’s my cousin!’ Edwin cried, as if that meant anything at all. He made a show of straightening his coat and brushing off imaginary dirt from where Allan had gripped his sleeve. ‘Trying to act the hero, eh? We’ll see how important you are when this march business takes place. For once everyone will congratulate me and you will be nothing to them.’

  Allan seized the front of his coat. ‘What do you know, Edwin?’

  Edwin shrank back. ‘Wouldn’t tell you if I knew something.’

  Allan released him.

  The next afternoon Marian sat behind her desk, curling and uncurling a small piece of paper. She looked up to her two most important allies, Mr Yost and Reilly. ‘Where do we stand?’

  ‘All is set,’ said Reilly. ‘The men know it is to be Charing Cross at dawn.’ They had withheld the location until the very last minute.

  ‘And they know there are likely to be provocateurs?’ she asked.

  Reilly nodded. ‘Each man has sworn to be disciplined, to stop anyone who creates havoc.’

  Mr Yost
drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. ‘Your friend Landon called upon me this morning.’

  ‘He spoke to me, too. Very early,’ Reilly said. ‘Came to the door while you and Mrs Nunn were still asleep.’

  ‘He came to the door?’ Her nerves skittered.

  Yost shrugged. ‘He asked me to stop the march. I didn’t admit even knowing what he was talking about.’

  Reilly nodded. ‘Me, too, miss.’

  She twisted the paper. ‘He is persistent.’

  Yost rubbed his forehead. ‘I confess, he seemed genuinely concerned about you and desired I keep you out of this.’

  ‘You cannot believe what he says to you.’ She took a breath. ‘He cares only for the Home Office.’

  Yost raised his shoulders. ‘He did inform us there would be agent provocateurs. That would seem counter to what the Home Office would wish.’

  ‘He’s passing the same message through his contacts,’ Reilly spoke up. ‘Some of the men heard him speak of his concerns as to the danger of the march.’

  ‘He is trying to scare them,’ cried Marian.

  Yost pursed his lips. ‘Perhaps, but it seems odd to me. Why would he want to stop it? Wouldn’t he want it to take place so arrests could be made?’

  Marian stood. ‘It does not matter why the captain does what he does. All we need ask ourselves is if the plan will still work.’

  Reilly straightened. ‘The men know what is expected.’

  Smoothing out the paper only to twist it again, Marian went over the plans in her head. The march was intended to be merely a show of force, a warning that the soldiers’ needs should not be ignored. At the exact time of the demonstration, Yost and another man would leave the list of demands at Parliament. Reilly and Marian would be with the other protesters at Charing Cross. The early dawn traffic through the busy intersection would be momentarily halted by the crowd. No speeches would be made, but the group would be led in a cheer. Three loud huzzahs and then the crowd would disperse. A brief—and hopefully safe—show of force.

  ‘How many men do you think we have?’ Marian asked.

  ‘At least five hundred,’ Reilly told her. ‘Maybe more.’

  Five hundred men willing to risk arrest. They would move into place very quietly throughout the night. They knew to plan their way to escape.