“Thank you. It is most kind.” To break away from such talk he added, “Do you not wish for supper, Miss Verewood?”
She smiled. “Yes, indeed. We were about to go in when we happily spotted you.”
He offered his arm, and they joined Lord and Lady Blythe to stroll across the polished floor, halting for a few minutes to admire the birds, then moving on. Hugo did not eat much. He was still queasy after the sickness that had incapacitated him on the packet from Ireland, and his brain was trying to come up with a solution to this latest problem.
Charity Verewood had been out some three or four years. In a military garrison town, or in London, she would have had offers galore, but the Verewoods, like his own parents, preferred a rural life, and their daughter was a diamond amid gravel. Hugo had been her companion whenever he had visited Wychbourne and found her very agreeable. But her beauty was of the remote kind. Whenever he had allowed himself to study her well-proportioned body, his feelings had seemed more sacrilegious than pleasurable.
Tonight, she was flawless in silver gauze over white, with a magnificent set of diamonds that cascaded to the valley between the swell of her milky breasts. But even this hint of her female charms suggested that they would feel cold beneath his hand if he attempted to cup them. Extremely eligible, of excellent birth and an heiress into the bargain, she was seen by his parents as the perfect partner for him. That Charity wished for the union was quite plain. Charles had never glanced her way, but the connection by marriage to the noble Stanford family would be a step in the right social direction.
Loving Victoria so totally, he could do no better than marry a girl who would never demand a great passion from him. But he hesitated. If she had no desire for his heart and body, might she not lay claim to his soul? Something told him he might find himself in a stranglehold of vines that would cling until he was crushed. He shook himself free of the image to answer a question she put to him and knew he must either make her an offer tonight or make it plain she must look elsewhere.
“I cannot believe that there are not those who wish they had heeded your words, Captain Esterly,” she told him earnestly. “You spoke to me of the need to be ready for war only last October, did you not?”
“And you persuaded me that I was being unnecessarily foolish, did you not?” he replied in a half-teasing manner.
She did not color or laugh his remark away, as most young women would have done. “I had not appreciated the situation, that is very plain. I should have known you would base such an opinion on wise observations.” Her eyelashes lowered. “I shall pray for our victory…and your safety, my dear friend. May I hope for the continued solace of regular correspondence while you are away? I found your letters from Ireland of such great interest.”
“Then the power of my pen must be greater than I thought, for my days there seemed fearfully dull to me.” He was playing for time. Her request for letters gave him the ideal opening for the question of their future together, but here, surrounded by those taking supper, was not the place. He looked around for a quiet corner and, in that moment, saw Victoria walking toward him on the arm of a balding major. Caught off guard, he saw her lovely eyes widen in shock. He gave a stiff nod in her direction, conscious that Charles was probably somewhere near, watching him. Shaken, he took Charity’s arm and led her to a seat in a corner of the rapidly emptying supper room.
*
For the length of the waltz Victoria suffered from the deepest hurt and disillusionment. A polka followed the waltz and between the dances she was caught up in a group of officers and their wives that prevented her from returning to her place with the family. She saw Hugo and Charles standing together in formal attitude and knew by her husband’s face that he was being coldly polite for the benefit of society. Hugo looked strained and determined, but not once did he make any further acknowledgment of her presence. Even when Jack Markham eventually returned her to her seat at the end of the polka, Hugo remained engrossed in his conversation with his father and another elderly gentleman until her next partner claimed her for the quadrille.
At the conclusion of that merry dance Victoria felt she must retire somewhere to think and departed to the quiet seclusion of a room set aside for the ladies, where she sat for some moments trying to use her newfound determination to overcome her distress. Whatever had occurred six months ago, there was no reason for this. He was deliberately avoiding her, was treating her as if she were the merest acquaintance.
It was certain to be noticed by everyone in the regiment. Speculation would be rife. Why was he doing it…why, why? Was it his wish to punish her for the rift between himself and Charles, the nature of which she had never been fully aware? Did he blame her for keeping him at Wychbourne when he would have left again immediately? Had the sight of her, caught in the toils of premature birth, destroyed his love? No, when she had last seen him bending over her before the doctor had arrived that love had been in his eyes in overflowing measure. What had happened since then that induced him to hurt her — no, humiliate her — in front of a girl he knew she so heartily disliked?
Her hands twisted together as she reminded herself of the vow she had made, but it was easier not to be crushed by Charles, for whom she had no feeling, than by this man, who was her soul’s salvation. At this moment she had no resolution; she was crushed. She rose to her feet as another lady entered and forced herself to return to the ballroom where a cotillion was in progress. Her partner would have looked for her in vain.
With the hurt still beating in waves against her composure, she walked toward the crowd lining the floor and rounded a pillar to confront a small group of officers, the nearest of whom was Hugo. Their glances locked in confusion. There was no chance of avoiding him. The young men greeted her warmly.
“Ah, ma’am, I regret to tell you Mr. Curtis is off to cut his throat,” said one with a chuckle. “Finding no trace of his partner, he felt his life and career no longer of importance.”
She smiled automatically. “When I see him to apologize for my absence I shall advise him to wait awhile. If he wishes to be heroic it would be better to offer a Russian his throat. Think of the greater honor to the regiment.”
They all laughed, except Hugo, who gave a slight bow and murmured an excuse for departing. Without time for consideration she said, “One moment, Captain Esterly. There is something of particular importance on which I need your advice.” Having gone that far, she added, “If you would be kind enough to fetch me a glass of lemonade I would be glad of a word with you.”
To her horror he hesitated until, caught in the impossible position in which she had put him, he reluctantly offered his arm.
With the color mounting in her cheeks and her inner self telling her she had laid herself open to even more harrowing treatment, Victoria walked with her silent escort to the room where drinks could be obtained. Miserably she waited until he brought her the lemonade, when he said, “If you will excuse me I will endeavor to find Charles. He will give you any advice you need.”
At the realization that he was about to walk away again, quick unexpected anger saved her. “Hugo, have you left your manners in Ireland? I receive more courtesy from my fishmonger.”
He drew in his breath as if she had slapped him. “Perhaps your fishmonger is credited with more honor than I. Excuse me, if you please.”
He made to turn away, but she said hotly, “No, I will not excuse you.” She took a step nearer him. “No one shall treat me in this offhand manner, least of all you. If there is some reason for it you will tell me. What is all this about honor?”
He was trapped, her anger had made his position impossible. “Victoria, this will do no good. Will you allow me to fetch Charles…or my father?”
“Not until you tell me what I have done to merit your public contempt — a contempt you saw fit to display before Miss Verewood.”
His eyes flashed. “A fine opinion you hold of me. First, I am less courteous than a fishmonger; now I am a bounder.”
He glanced around as if expecting there might be eyes fastened upon him, watching his every movement. Then he said stiffly, “Charles directed me to have no further contact with you. He doubts my honor where his wife is concerned.”
It was the last thing she had expected and left her conscious only that she had forced such a statement from him in this public place.
“Hugo, that is quite unforgivable! How dare he say… I am so sorry. If he had told me, I…how could I understand your behavior?”
His eyes darkened with anger…passion? She could not tell which. “He did not expect that we should be in each other’s company again so soon. I deeply regret this, Victoria. If it had not been for my parents, I should not be here tonight, but duty obliges me to make some effort at their especial request. However, the regiment is off in two days and we shall not meet again.”
She shook her head in a daze. “No, Hugo. I travel with you to the Balkans. You cannot possibly avoid the wife of your major when she is with you day after day.”
He stared at her in horrified disbelief. “Has Charles gone mad? Victoria, you cannot! We are off to war. Have you any notion what it will be like?”
Seeing the concern that sprang from his love only as rejection, she flung back at him, “Have you any notion what it will be like if I am incarcerated at Wychbourne?”
Inquisitive faces were turning in their direction. He drew her to an alcove that offered more privacy. “At Wychbourne you would be safe,” he urged in a low insistent voice. “At Wychbourne you would not be exposed to hardship and the rigors of a campaign.”
“At Wychbourne I would be stifled,” she said through frozen lips. “It would be a prison sentence. The Stanfords have no real fondness for me, and I would be fed an undiluted diet of the sanctimonious Miss Verewood. Would you condemn me to that?”
“Instead of an undiluted diet of battlefields? Yes!” was the heated answer. “You cannot go, Victoria.”
“Letty is going. Have you treated her and Jack to your dictatorial attitude on the subject?” Seeing she had silenced him for a moment, she went on. “Or have you another reason in my case?”
He stood for a moment with his jaw working. “You know full well it would be intolerable. A tented camp offers no privacy; its occupants are thrown together in an intimacy one does not find in barracks.”
“And?”
Her obstinate attitude incensed him further. “By heaven, is that what you truly wish, Victoria?”
She had grown as pale as he was flushed. “I think you know what I truly wish.” It was soft and sad — a plea for his understanding of her need to walk in his shadow, if all else were denied her, but he was wiser in all things than she and forced himself to say, “There is a vacant captaincy in the Lancers. I will apply to transfer, for I cannot live side by side with you under such circumstances.”
“Hugo…no! There is no reason for you to…”
“Forgive me, Mrs. Stanford,” said a voice beside her. “I come to claim my polka. If this unmannerly fellow detains you much longer there will be none of it left to dance.” Harry Edmunds gave her a wicked smile and bowed to Hugo with slight mockery. “Arriving too late to find any partners does not entitle you to dally with those promised to your friends, Hugo.” He offered his arm, which Victoria was obliged to take, and led her away, saying, “Captain Esterly might have a great deal of dash, but his performance in the ballroom is deplorable.”
“So I have heard,” she struggled to say, conscious that Hugo was watching them as the young lieutenant slipped his arm around her waist. The ball was turning into a disaster.
*
The Stanford party left the ball in two carriages. When they arrived at Brunswick Square the ladies said their good nights and went immediately to their rooms, leaving the gentlemen together.
Lady Blythe kissed the two young women on the cheek and went into the room Victoria had prepared for her, wiping the corners of her eyes to hint at tears that were about to flow in the privacy of the boudoir. Victoria was not taken in, but the girl walking beside her along the landing appeared greatly affected by the performance.
“She is taking it so bravely, under the circumstances, do you not think?”
“Oh, there is no doubt her stoicism is an example to us all.”
“Indeed, yes,” agreed Charity, missing Victoria’s sarcasm. “To give up two sons in the defense of their country is a great sacrifice.”
Victoria continued to look straight ahead as she walked. “They are not yet slain and in their graves, Miss Verewood. I think we need not take out our black dresses and mourning jewelry just yet.”
Charity drew in her breath sharply. “I cannot blame you for forcing yourself to be less than sensitive to another’s suffering, Mrs. Stanford, since your husband insists on your accompanying him to the Balkans. It will not do to be easily overcome by hardship and anguish, but it seems a great pity that you are so unused to tending the sick. You have my sincere wish that you will survive the ordeal, ma’am.” She stopped at her door and turned a bright smile upon her hostess. “I must express my gratitude to you for allowing me to be a guest in your house. We have not always perfectly understood each other in the past, have we?”
“That fact does not prohibit my accommodating you when my parents-in-law bring you as their guest, Miss Verewood.” She turned to go, but Charity put a hand lightly on her arm.
“You are soon off to an uncertain future. Can we not part as friends? If we are to be sisters…” Her voice trailed off delicately.
Victoria felt a sudden lack of air in her lungs. “Sisters? How is this?”
Lowering her eyes modestly, Charity said, “Captain Esterly tonight expressed his earnest desire that I should be waiting for him when he returned, and I gave my promise. He is too gallant to ask me to share the life to which he goes, but it is only a matter of time before we are united in marriage.” The doll eyes gazed at her in triumph. “Can we not say goodbye in sisterly affection?”
Victoria’s bosom heaved as pain knotted there and thrust up against her throat. The vision of sweet acid before her began to blur as she faced the implications of the girl’s words. How could he take such a marble creature as his own? She felt herself swaying as thoughts of Charity in Hugo’s bed set blood and pulse pounding into an aching anguish that spread over her entire body. Stepping back as if to escape from the mental ravishment, she found herself saying, “So, you have had your way after all! You and Lady Blythe make excellent conspirators in the trapping of a man when he is under stress and cannot escape.” She took another two steps back in agitation. “If I cannot escape becoming your sister, I fear we shall never be friends. Unfortunately, you possess all the characteristics I most dislike, and I cannot see any hope of improvement. Our goodbye will, I hope, be final.”
She turned in a swirl of chartreuse silk skirts and hurried along the corridor to her own room. Once inside, she leaned against the bedpost and let the tears slide unchecked down her cheeks, as her own body cried out for the rapture that would never fill the cold limbs of the girl Hugo had chosen to take for a partner.
*
When Hugo would have left immediately, Lord Blythe caught his arm and cast a stern eye at Charles. “This is your home. Have I your permission to ask your brother to remain for a short while?”
Charles gave a stiff nod. “If you really wish it, sir.”
“Of course I wish it, sir. You are well aware of our hopes — your mama’s and mine. She has been extremely under par over this affair, and I must speak to you on the subject. Will you invite us to take a glass in your study?”
Charles led the way into a book-lined room of little character since no resident remained long enough in the house to make it peculiarly his own, and they all took a seat in silence. A footman brought a brandy decanter and glasses, then departed, closing the double doors softly.
Lord Blythe took a pull a
t the brandy after warming the balloon glass with his hands. “Excellent quality, my boy.” He cleared his throat. “You two are off to war, and we are proud of you. We have always been proud of you — the son of our union and the son of our choosing. You are brothers.” He looked into the glass and cleared his throat again. “After your mama had meningitis I was grateful for your understanding of the way her illness changed the sunny personality she had. You have both been discreet and showed no signs of the embarrassment she must have caused you, at times. I believed the bond we all had was behind your continued devotion to her in these trying years, but you have now allowed your personal differences to cause her infinite distress. Perhaps I have kept from you just how fragile her disposition is these days, but you are both intelligent men and must know that your present behavior plays on a mind that has become a little childish.” He looked most uncomfortable and Hugo’s easy guilt returned.
“There is no knowing how long this war may last, and she might succumb to her weakness at any time,” he went on. “I ask you both, as gentlemen, to take this into consideration.” He took another draught of brandy. “In the conflict we might lose one, or both, of you in the cause of our country. Our grief would be extreme, that goes without saying, but it would be unacceptable if we thought you had parted as…if there had been no…” He stood up, leaving the brandy unfinished on the table. “Dammit, gentlemen, let us have an end to this for all our sakes.” He left the room, blowing his nose on a silk handkerchief.
The brothers remained standing where they were at their father’s departure, each balancing a brandy snifter in his hand. The heavy tick of the clock echoed the mood Lord Blythe had left behind him. Hugo felt no inclination to speak.
Charles swirled the brandy in his glass and watched it as he said, “My God, he asks a lot of my sense of duty. You are only in my house because he requested it.” He tossed back the last of the drink and placed the glass gently on a bookcase. “I suggest you leave now.”
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