by Kris Tualla
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
February 14, 1782
Reid walked up the long drive to the Sven’s house. He decided not to waste his scant coins for a carriage when he only needed to walk about a mile and a half in snow that barely reached his mid-calf. Besides, the sun was shining and he had his tinted glasses for protection against the glare that occasionally bothered him.
He stomped the snow off his boots once he reached the clean-swept porch. The door opened before he knocked on it.
“Horace!” Reid grinned. “It’s good to see you again. Why are you answering the door?”
The valet returned his smile. “I’m afraid the butler is indisposed, so I am filling in.”
Reid removed his spectacles and stepped into the house. The richness of the furnishings hit him like a club to the chest; he had conveniently forgotten how wealthy the daughter of a king was. Once again standing in the understated elegance of the Sven home, he wondered if his feelings toward Kirsten should be forgotten. No more permanent than his footsteps in the snow.
He glanced down at his feet. His snow-caked boots were creating little puddles on the marble floor.
“I’m sorry, Horace,” he said.
Horace shrugged. “It’s the bane of winter, I’m afraid. May I take your cloak?”
Reid swung the heavy cloak from his shoulders—a second-hand garment he was gifted with when he was promoted—and handed it to the man.
“Tea?” the valet asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Reid followed him to the drawing room before Horace turned around. “I’ll let Master Henrik know you are here. It is good to see you again, sir, and in such fine health.”
Reid strolled around the room remembering the vase on the sidebar and the paintings on the wall, each bit of sophistication sending another dart into his confidence.
“Colonel Hansen!” Henrik called out his greeting.
Reid spun to face his host. “Mister Sven!”
The men clasped hands. Henrik winked, “Now that we’ve done with the formalities, what say we descend to informalities?”
“Much less cumbersome, I do agree,” Reid said with a smile.
The tea arrived, carried by a maid Reid didn’t remember.
“Sit, Hansen.” Henrik waved at a chair. “Tell me what’s been happening with you since you left the bosom of our care.”
He obliged. “The war carries on, though winter weather does slow it a bit,” Reid began.
“Are we winning?” Henrik asked.
“I believe so, sir,” Reid answered truthfully.
Henrik helped himself to a thick slice of cake. “What brings you back to Philadelphia?”
“I have been asked to testify about the explosion which nearly claimed my life.” Reid blew on his tea to cool it.
“It wasn’t an accident, then,” Henrik probed.
Reid shook his head. “No.”
Henrik leaned forward. “Can you say any more?”
Reid shook his head again. “Sorry. No.”
Henrik leaned back again. “I suspected as much. Will you catch the culprit?”
There was no point in skirting that issue. “He’s already caught. Now we only have to prove what he did.”
“Excellent.” Henrik sipped his tea, made a face, set it down, and gave Reid a conspiratorial look. “Would you care for a bit of brandy in your tea?”
Reid laughed. “Well, I did walk here in the snow.”
Henrik’s expression shifted toward surprise. “You walked here?”
Reid shrugged. “After marching across the country for days on end, this was merely a stroll through a rose garden.”
Henrik stood and retrieved a bottle of dark amber liquid. “When you leave, I’ll send you in my carriage.”
Reid was about to object when a twinge shot through his thigh. “I appreciate your continued generosity, Henrik,” he said instead.
Henrik poured a generous splash of brandy into Reid’s tea and then his own. He set the bottle on the table between them.
“In case you want more tea,” he said with a wink.
Reid lifted his delicate china cup in a silent toast before drinking the fortified liquid.
“So.” Henrik leaned back in his chair and brushed a crumb from his waistcoat. “To what do I owe the honor of your most welcomed visit?”
Reid opened his mouth to give the answer he meant to give all along before a sharp realization widened the metaphorical club-wound to his chest.
Ever since the front door opened, Reid had been watching, listening, and yes, sniffing for Kirsten. He wondered if she was in the house. Or if she knew he was there. He already knew she still smelled like cloves. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, searching for traces of her presence. That sudden understanding knocked his original purpose to the ground and stomped on it, chest wound be damned.
“I would like to formally court Kirsten and have come to ask your blessing,” he declared.
Henrik quirked a brow. “I’m not certain…”
“I know she’s royalty,” Reid attacked the first objection.
“Let’s do start there,” Henrik responded. “My family is very highly placed in the court. Even so, the expectations which accompany a royal marriage were more onerous than I anticipated.”
“Is that why you emigrated?” Reid asked.
Henrik considered his fingernails. “To be honest, yes. In a large part.”
“I respectfully suggest that those expectations will lessen over time and generations,” Reid posited. “What is your next objection?”
Henrik pinned him with a probing stare. “Why Kirsten?”
Reid chuckled. “That, sir, is a very good question.”
“I hope you have a very good answer,” Henrik warned.
Reid settled into his seat and took another gulp of his brandied tea. He set the china cup on the table so he wouldn’t drop it. He leaned forward and met Henrik’s eyes.
“Kirsten is the most interesting woman I have ever met. She has a fine, quick mind, a unique sense of humor, and a strong, independent will. I find all of those qualities attractive.”
“And you discovered this in only two weeks?” Henrik pressed.
Reid spread his hands. “You would be amazed how much you can see when you are blind.”
Henrik pulled a breath and considered Reid through narrowed eyes. “How long will you be in Philadelphia?”
There was part of his problem. Once the trial was completed, Reid would be at loose ends.
“The trial will last another three weeks, I imagine. After that, I’m not certain of my plans,” he said honestly.
“What are your options?” Henrik demanded.
“I can stay in the army.” Reid indicated his right leg. “Or I can leave because of residual limitations from my injury. Then I’m free to go anywhere I wish.”
“How will you support yourself if you do?”
Henrik was asking the hard yet important questions. Reid had taken himself by surprise with his startling request, so his course was not yet planned out. His mind raced down different paths, sprinting in search of an acceptable answer.
“I have hopes for my back pay,” he began. “Then I suppose I’ll go to Boston and see my family. I can look for work there.”
“Would you stay in Philadelphia?”
Reid shrugged. “I could.”
Henrik paused his inquisition, poured a little more brandy into his tea, and held the bottle toward Reid. He accepted. Afterward, Henrik set the bottle down and sipped from his cup.
“Kirsten is beautiful and wealthy,” he accused.
Reid chuckled again. “Believe me when I say that there are a dozen or more beautiful and wealthy women in every city I’ve visited. And most of them have more pliable temperaments than your daughter. If that was my goal, I could reach it more easily than courting a princess.”
Henrik did smile a little at that. He waved a hand around the room. “Kirsten is accustomed to a certain level of luxur
y, you are aware of that.”
Reid nodded. “I am. And in truth, it’s a level I cannot hope for.”
“Would you expect to live here?”
“In this house?” Reid frowned. “No. Thank you, but no. I expect to provide for my wife in my own home.”
Henrik’s brows flew toward his thinning hair. “Do you think Kirsten would agree?”
Reid shrugged. “Obviously I have not asked her.”
“That could be a problem,” Henrik pointed out.
“There are countless potential problems, Henrik,” Reid admitted. “But until Kirsten and I talk seriously about them, it does no good to imagine the answers.”
Henrik’s expression grew pensive. “I have a great deal of respect for you, Colonel. You are clearly a man of upstanding character and high intelligence.”
Reid’s face warmed. “Thank you.”
“Your current financial bind is not of your own making, as you have chosen to fight so many years for this country’s independence,” Henrik continued. “I laud you heartily for that.”
Reid was certain he saw an objection lingering at the end of the man’s commendations. “Thank you again,” he said, waiting for the words he still anticipated.
“It’s important you understand that what I’m about to say is not a judgment of your fitness as a man in general, nor a husband specifically. I am truly impressed with your sincere and determined personality.”
Henrik was evidently building up to something big. His features sobered. Reid forced his body to relax, assuming what was coming, and readying his response.
“Yet in the face of all that, the unfortunate truth remains. My daughter is a royal princess of Denmark and Norway. The responsibilities which are incumbent with her birth cannot be ignored.”
“In light of that, are you are refusing to give me permission to court Kirsten?” Reid wanted to clarify what, exactly, he would be objecting to.
“Well, it’s not the courting so much,” Henrik deferred. “It’s that the hoped-for marriage would be impossible. So why begin the process, you see?”
Reid adjusted his impromptu battle plan. “What if she refuses me?”
Henrik frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Look at it from this angle, Henrik. What if I court her and she decides we are not suited?” Reid offered. “Or perhaps I’ll decide that same thing, after spending more time with her.”
The man’s mouth flapped open and closed. It was apparent the father never thought anyone would refuse his daughter. Reid’s salvo had knocked Henrik off balance. He pressed his advantage with a blast of cruel truth.
“I have to be honest with you, sir. My request for your blessing was a formality which I engaged in because I have so much respect for you,” he said.
“Thank you,” Henrik responded with noticeable caution.
“But I will reach thirty-two years of age next month. Kirsten will turn twenty-seven later this year.”
Henrik’s eyes widened. Reid believed the man saw the point coming and wondered if Henrik might launch a counter-attack. Reid moved quickly.
“We are both mature adults. Our time is shortening. And if I decide to take Kirsten as my wife, her answer is the only one I will accept.”
“You would court her without my permission?” Henrik exclaimed.
Reid thought it best to withhold his declaration that he would marry her without the father’s permission if it came to that. Henrik didn’t seem to believe that it would. Reid wasn’t so certain.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“What if I forbid it?”
“You won’t.”
“Why not?”
Reid smiled softly. “Fordi du elsker din datter. Du vil at hun skal være lykkelig.” Because you love your daughter. You want her to be happy.
Henrik’s surprise shifted to recollection. “I forgot you speak Norse.”
Reid didn’t hesitate, but shot another ball. “Furthermore, you see the possibility of her happiness dimming with every dinner party you subject her to.”
Henrik blinked. “You heard.”
“I did.” Reid smiled. “The parlor door was open.”
The older man’s face ruddied. “This path can only end in disaster, Reid. Mark my words. Kirsten will never turn her back on her heritage.”
Reid bobbed a respectful nod. “I am willing to take that risk, rather than spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had not walked away.”
Henrik opened the brandy bottle and refreshed both of their cups. “I may need to revise my opinion of you, Hansen. Now you sound like a fool.”
“Do you love Marit?” Reid queried.
The bottle twitched. “I do.”
“Was your courtship without trials?”
Henrik’s recollection played across his face as a soft grin. “No.”
Reid leaned forward. “Was it worth it?”
Henrik sighed, recapped the brandy bottle, and set it on the table. He lifted his cup and met Reid’s gaze, all traces of the smile gone.
“I have no hope for you. But I won’t try to stop you. And I won’t feel guilty when your hopes explode in your face.”
Reid laid a hand over his heart. “And I won’t blame you if it does, Henrik. Thank you.”
Henrik shook his head. “This has got to be the oddest conversation I have ever had.”
Reid laughed. “For me as well.”
Henrik looked askance at him. “You never courted before?”
“Not as an adult. I don’t count adolescent infatuations,” Reid replied.
“Your inexperience with women might put you at a disadvantage here, son,” Henrik chortled.
Reid wagged a finger at his host. “I never claimed inexperience, mind you.”
Henrik laughed aloud at that.
“What’s so funny?”
The bottom dropped out of Reid’s assurance the moment he heard Kirsten’s voice. All his bravado about wooing a princess fled. He turned to face her and wondered what Henrik would say.
“I’ve just had the most unusual conversation with Colonel Hansen,” he began.
“Oh?” Kirsten’s eyes shifted to Reid’s. Curiosity made them glow. “About what?”
“Tell her, Reid,” Henrik urged.
Reid stood. “I have asked your father for permission to court you.”
Kirsten recoiled. “What did you say, Pappa?”
“I said no, of course,” he answered. Even with his back turned, Reid could detect Henrik’s mirth. He smiled as well.
Kirsten appeared equal parts relieved and confused. “Why are you both smiling?”
“Because I said I would court you anyway,” Reid stated. “And I shall.”
“And I told him he is a fool,” Henrik added. “And then we drank a toast.”
Kirsten’s incredulous regard bounced from man to man. “How much have you two been drinking?”
“Less than you might imagine,” Reid assured her. He stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. The aroma of cloves grounded him. He straightened and gazed into her eyes.
“Do you have time to talk, or should I come back tomorrow?” he murmured.
“I—I have time now,” she stuttered.
Henrik rose to his feet as well. “I’ll leave you two the drawing room. Don’t forget to order the carriage before you leave, Hansen.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kirsten kissed her father’s cheek as he walked past her. She still wasn’t certain what had transpired between the two men, but she was determined not to allow Reid to leave until she was. A maid came to collect the tea tray and Kirsten asked for fresh tea. She needed something to do with her hands if what she heard thus far was to be trusted.
“Have a seat, Princess,” Reid said gently.
She shot him a look. “Do you mock me?”
He wagged his head. “No. I only want to show the correct respect.”
“Then call me Kirsten. Or Miss Sven.”
&nb
sp; She crossed to the settee and sat in the middle of it so he wouldn’t try to join her there. Her heartbeat had fluttered disturbingly when she heard Reid’s voice in the drawing room. Seeing him once more in her home was unsettling to say the least.
Reid reclaimed the chair he was sitting in when she entered the room. His gray eyes rested on hers; apparently he was waiting for her to speak first. She could either do so, or stare back at him. The man was contrary enough not to take that hint, however, and Kirsten didn’t wish to spend the rest of her day in a contest of wills.
She opened with, “What did you and my father talk about?”
Reid shrugged. “How the war is progressing, the trial, what my plans are for after the war.”
She rolled her eyes. “What did you discuss concerning me?”
“Oh. That.” Reid gave her a little grin. “I asked for his blessing to court you.”
Kirsten’s shoulders fell. “Oh, Reid. Why would you do such a thing?”
Their conversation halted while the maid set out the fresh tea tray. Kirsten’s fingers trembled as she poured her tea, shaken by her pounding pulse. Reid’s declaration provoked such violently warring factions in her emotions that she couldn’t properly sort them out.
She leaned back on the settee and risked another look into his eyes. “Tell me, Reid. I don’t understand.”
“I asked your father because I hold such respect for the man,” he said.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she declared. “Why do you want to court me?”
Reid leaned his elbows on his knees. “Because you interest me. You have from the moment I became aware of you. I haven’t been able to forget you.”
“Then why didn’t you say goodbye?” she asked of a sudden.
He leaned back again, as if shoved away by her question. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“That’s ridiculous, Reid, and you know it!” Kirsten snapped. “You were just a coward!”
Reid shook his head. “Again, Princess, you are angry at me for not saying the very words which would anger you.”
“Don’t call me that,” she growled.
He threw his hands up. “A simple ‘goodbye and thank you’ would have denigrated our friendship. You would have been offended, would you not?”