Major Lord David

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  She had delayed writing to her father, convinced as she was that there was no real harm in ignoring her broken engagement. Since there had been no public announcement of intentions, she reasoned that no assurance of a subsequent break needed to be made. Such an argument seemed entirely logical, at least as an excuse for not rushing to put pen to paper. And her father, in any event, would be most concerned about Kit.

  With the first news, her brother had been wild with excitement, threatening to join up at once. But his situation was such that he had no funds to purchase colors. From what Bil lie had heard, he owed money to half the ton. And their father would never consent to an additional investment. For the first time Billie felt grateful that Kit was so thoroughly beholden to his creditors-if it kept him away from the Continent and from danger.

  The world moved with breathtaking speed. All thought of an idle, frivolous season had been set aside to prepare for confrontation. There was yet more to be endured, in as cool and composed a manner as possible. Yet it was difficult, as Billie discovered, to feel entirely cool and composed when one’s brother strolled into the drawing room in the newly issued uniform of an infantry officer.

  “Kit! What have you done?”

  “Rather obvious, wouldn’t you say, Billie?” He was beaming with pride and exhilaration. “I’ve purchased a commission-as a lowly lieutenant, to be sure. But I’m an officer, nonetheless, in the Fifty-second. Alan Athington’s regiment.”

  “Are you mad, Kit? How can you afford such a thing?”

  “Why, I thought you’d be pleased for me!” And Billie found his astonishment almost as provoking as his ill-considered action. “Old Trahearne made it possible-by making me the loan. He’s all for battling Bonaparte. I know I ought to pay off the IOUs to Dumont, but there’s time enough for that later. Dumont will continue to stake me. He is the best friend in the world.”

  “Friend!” Billie barely kept her voice level. “A `friend’ would never have encouraged you to play so deep to begin with. And the truest of gentlemen would have folded a good hand rather than press you. I know that much, Kit. Mr. Dumont imposes upon you-upon us-for some purpose of his own. He’s been associated with much that’s unpleasant, and … and I understand his family is most disappointed in him. And now you put your life at risk!”

  Kit’s features had set stubbornly. “I don’t see why you should be so hard on Dumont. Even if he’s out a bit of blunt at the moment, he knows I’ve wanted to join up. None of the family could see it,” he charged. “All of you have chosen to ignore my wishes-as usual.”

  “For your own good, Kit. You’ve chosen one foolish course after another-”

  “Only because I wasn’t let to do what I wanted! You know that, Billie. I thought you understood.” As she worried her lower lip, he added, “And Dumont isn’t the loathsome fellow you make him. He tells me how much he esteems you.”

  “‘Esteems’ me? He `esteems’ my portion!”

  “Well”-Kit dared smile-“it is something to consider, isn’t it? Do not fool yourself that your smart Major Trent hasn’t thought of it!”

  “I think I can safely claim that he hasn’t! It would never signify. Lord David may not have what his brother, Hayden, has, but he will most certainly be well set up”

  “Then why did he ever take to soldiering?”

  “I-I haven’t a clue. Perhaps, like you, he prefers to strut about in scarlet! Oh, I think you are all mad!” That she should then, inexplicably, choose to cry startled both of them.

  “Such stuff, Billie!” Kit scoffed, wrinkling his nose at her, as though he were still thirteen. “If anything, I’d have thought you’d want to come with me!”

  “Perhaps I do,” she asserted, raising her chin and refusing to dab at her damp eyes. “But I know that I cannot. I must stay with Aunt Ephie and Morty, who will stick to Miss Urquhart. My days of adventure are past now, Kit.”

  His light brown eyes, so like her own, examined her minutely. “You and Ephie might locate to Brussels for the season. Many families plan to follow the troops. Athington’s said his company will probably be off to Ostend within days. And Miss Athington and her parents will follow him to Brussels.”

  “Will they?” Billie echoed faintly. “She did not tell me”

  “Oh, half the ton will be in Brussels. ‘Twill be the liveliest place in the world. And what sport-to see Boney take his lickings!”

  Such ill-reasoned ardor only further incensed her.

  “You do not know what you are about,” she managed steadily. “I am surprised that your colonel-that they would even think of sending someone so green! But it’s too late for me-or for Father-to stop you, and so I must wish you well. You must try to-try to think, Kit! Oh, was I ever as headstrong as you are? No wonder he believes me-”

  When she stopped, Kit’s look was puzzled, but he smiled at her continued silence. “You know I love you, Billie,” he claimed easily.

  “Do you?” She sighed. “I suspect ‘tis rather that you know I love you-and you play upon it. You’ve been indulged, Kit, and I fear it will not serve you well.”

  “Whatever!” he pronounced, proudly raising his chin. “I’m happy now. If you must fret, fret over whom you might choose to marry-now that Trent will be leaving. If you will not have Dumont, the bets are on Grenby, or Willard Trahearne”

  “The bets? I cannot find such attention flattering. And Mr. Trahearne is a decade older than Papa, Kit. Would you truly have me consider such a man?”

  “I’ve seen his property at Fairways. I can well imagine you mistress of such a place, Billie. And Grenby isn’t bad eitherthough one can’t help wishing to scuff him up a bit.” “

  She smiled. Lord Grenby was indeed always turned out as neatly as a new penny.

  .,I’m just pleased Trent will be well out of the running,” Kit continued. “Almost anyone but David Trent might do”

  “Why, Kit?” she asked frankly. “Why have you always disliked him so?”

  “Maybe because you’ve always liked him so-for no reason I could ever discover. He always had at you worse than any of the rest of us”

  “I plagued him. And he thought me a boy. I certainly acted like one.”

  “Well, then, he’s blind as well as dim-witted, and I shall be glad never to see him again.”

  “Don’t-don’t say so, Kit. Not now. Not when there is so much at stake.”

  Kit shrugged. “What is he to me anyway? I shan’t give him another thought. Now kiss me, Billie, for I won’t be back to see you for at least another two weeks.”

  She gave him a swift peck on the cheek and saw him on his way, then searched out her aunt, to convey Kit’s news. Ephie thankfully refrained from much comment, but only because they were due to attend the Birdwistles’ ball that night, and they had little time to ready themselves.

  The evening’s event proved remarkable for its fierce dedication to pleasure. Though a scarcely acknowledged thread of tension ran through the company, Billie counted no trembling lips or tearful glances among the elegant guests at Twyla Birdwistle’s come out. And though Billie too readily recalled her Shakespeare, and the forebodings associated with the ides of March, she willfully smothered any agitation-and failed to spot it in others.

  As she and Ephie were announced and made their way into the gaily decorated ballroom, one of the largest and most beautifully adorned rooms in town, Billie soon attracted the attentions of eager Lord Grenby and several other faithful swains. But Lord David was not to be spotted amid the crowd of uniformed officers taking time to attend the ball.

  She had not seen him in six momentous days. Indeed, as she attempted to share in the lighthearted banter about her, she kept one expectant eye upon the door.

  “Do you watch for Lord David?” Charis asked her, so cheerfully that Billie dearly wished she might smite her. “I hear he has already left for Dover,” her tormentor continued callously. “I had it from my brother Alan on Monday.”

  “I was not watching for him,” Billie lied, �
��but for Lord Grenby’s return with my punch.”

  Charis’ grin was close to a smirk. “Perhaps you have not heard, Miss Caswell, that I shall be moving with my family to Brussels for the spring.”

  “I had heard, Miss Athington. Where shall you stay?”

  “Papa has leased a house just one block from the Place Royale. We shall be able to see the troops parade from our front parlor!”

  “How happy for you. You are not concerned about your brother-and the coming confrontation?”

  “Oh, Alan assures us that it will probably come to naught. We must be ready, but Bonaparte will never regain his former support. And even if he does, why should he attack the allies?” She laughed. “You mustn’t look so serious, Miss Billie.”

  “I still think it might be wise of you, Miss Athington, to consider-when you pack your trunks-that you might at some point need to evacuate”

  “To evacuate? How droll! It shan’t prove at all dangerous. Why, much of London society shall be taking up residence in Brussels. Easily half the city shall be English, as Papa has it.”

  “One might then feel quite at home when under siege, I suppose,” Billie said.

  Charis laughed. “You are most amusing, Miss Billie.”

  “I don’t mean to be. Perhaps I play Cassandra this evening and warn you that Bonaparte has always moved with secrecy and swiftness. Witness his recent escape from Elba.”

  “Well said, Miss Caswell,” Lord Grenby remarked, coming up to hand her a glass of lemonade. “We mustn’t be too confident” But Grenby’s wide and self-consciously attractive smile was supremely confident.

  Charis Athington’s gaze narrowed upon them. “You both might consider joining the society in Brussels,” she proposed. “London is likely to be left very dull.”

  “I am finding entertainment enough here, Miss Athington,” Grenby assured her, with a gracious bow to Billie.

  Billie felt the color rise to her cheeks. She had not intended to encourage Grenby so particularly, yet he appeared to be most particularly encouraged. In distraction she looked to the sea of regimental scarlet across the room. He has gone, she thought. He has already gone to Dover and is probably even now crossing to Brussels. She felt the notion almost as a physical pain. But her unhappy gaze soon focused on the distinctive brass buttons in front of her-on the familiar paired facings of a Coldstream officer’s tunic.

  “Oh!” she breathed, as her gaze rose to meet Lord David’s. “You are still here”

  “I hope you do not object, Miss Wilhelmina,” he said lightly. His eyes looked very bright.

  She thought her discomposure something in the nature of an illness, that she should always delight so mindlessly in merely looking at him.

  “Have you this dance for me?” he persisted, looking to Grenby.

  The man obligingly opened his palm to Billie. “It is Miss Caswell’s to confer,” he allowed, though he did not look pleased when Billie chose to give the major her hand.

  As they walked onto the floor, David inclined his head to hers. “Your Lord Grenby looks disappointed this evening,” he whispered, stepping away to take his place in the set. “Have you not told him I am yesterday’s suitor?”

  As the music began, Billie did not answer him. There seemed so much to say; she did not wish to waste a minute discussing Lord Grenby. Yet it did occur to her that in his manner of claiming a dance, and in calling her Miss Wilhelmina, the major had not acted in the least like “yesterday’s suitor.”

  He was smiling at her now in a way that would convince no one of a lapsed attachment.

  “I heard you were in Dover,” she said.

  “Very briefly. We must move thousands. As quickly as possible.”

  “But we do not yet know what Bonaparte will do!”

  “Don’t we?”

  She lost him in the figures of the dance. When they came back around together once more, she found the brief clasp of his hand heartening.

  “What do you expect?” she asked tensely.

  He smiled. “This is much too grim a conversation-for a ball.”

  “I am no simpleton, Major, to be fed assurances.”

  With one raised eyebrow, he affirmed, “No.” And when they met again, he told her, “Parliament will take its time debating war, while the army prepares to wage it. And we will watch Bonaparte”

  When she again had his ear, she protested, “All this was settled last year!”

  “This summer will truly resolve it.”

  “But surely none of it is necessary! He must be content with France. We needn’t be involved-”

  When he returned, he said, “You anticipate the debate, Miss Billie. ‘Tis a debate I shan’t be staying to hear.”

  She thought rather desperately, When? When must you leave? But instead she chose to relay that Kit had obtained a commission.

  The major looked very serious for a moment. “I suppose such was to be expected. Your brother is an impulsive fellow.”

  “Would you deny”-she charged, instantly taking umbrage”that more men are needed?”

  “Certainly not. But trained men. Steady men. Calm and levelheaded soldiers. I don’t wish to presuppose-”

  “But you do!” As one eyebrow again rose at that, and not in amusement, she added, “Oh, I do not know why I defend himwhen I do not wish him to go!”

  “But you wish me to go?”

  She looked at him then without commenting, wondering why he could not see. She had never thought herself so fine an actress. As the dance moved into a more rapid reel, they could no longer speak at all. Billie felt the frustration of fading, precious time. Though she had thought to be elated in his presence once more, the ball had become a misery.

  When the set ended, he did not surrender her but drew her quickly to the long, columned hall at the side of the ballroom. Other couples passed in and out of the many curtained openings; she and the major were in full view of most at the dance. Yet their removal to the hall gave them a limited privacy and quiet that Billie welcomed.

  “Now,” he said, leaning close to her. His gaze was very steady. “You might talk.”

  When Billie’s attention slipped to the side to locate Ephie a good twenty yards across the room, the major noted her concern.

  “We are most properly positioned,” he assured her softly.

  But you take the same liberties, she thought, as though we were still betrothed. Her chin rose.

  “You know that Miss Athington removes to Brussels with her family?” she asked.

  “She has told me”

  “I imagine that will be most convenient,” she suggested.

  “For whom? Wellington-or Bonaparte?”

  She stifled a laugh and forced herself to concentrate on his smoothly-shaven chin. “You … you mustn’t make me laugh.”

  “It pleases me to do so,” he said with a smile. “‘Tis often for the best. And you are much too serious this evening.”

  “There are serious events at hand”

  “You think you must remind me?” Again his smile caught her attention. “Do you contemplate following the Athingtons and the rest of the throng to Brussels?”

  “No. Father would not permit me to leave, even if Morty could be prevailed upon. Though I do worry for Kit… “

  “He must take his lumps.”

  “You’ve expressed that view before, Major,” she said quickly.

  “Yes. I am staunch as a post” This time his smile did not convey humor. “I do not wish to cross you, Miss Billie. I imagine there is nothing more calculated to raise your ire. And I would not presume to patronize, to advise your fatheror your brother Morty-against it. But you must not go to Brussels. This is not a play staged for society’s amusement. There are real risks-”

  “Major,” she interrupted proudly, “I have just been warning Miss Athington very much as you warn me now.”

  “Is that so? Wise Miss Billie!” He surveyed her features indulgently. “‘Tis far better for you to have your season,” he mused alo
ud, “away from Leicestershire and your cares”

  “And now you do patronize, Major!” When she would have stepped back from him, she ran up against the velvet drapes at one column’s edge. “You would have me cosseted here, with vacated theaters and drawing rooms, while you and the rest of the kingdom romp in Brussels.”

  “I foresee little time to `romp’ in Brussels,” he countered smoothly. Then he added-and not entirely to the point-“The Household regiments locate west of town. At Enghien. More than twenty miles away. And do not”-he playfully tapped her chin with one finger-“go blurting that to the French”

  “Oh . . ” She tried to hide her satisfaction. In her estimation he could not be too far removed from Brussels.

  “Are you possibly jealous, Miss Billie?” he persisted, an amused sparkle in his gaze.

  “Of your ability to act, to do something, yes,” she admitted, refusing to gratify him, and keeping her thoughts of Charis Athington to herself.

  “You think you would like to follow the drum?” he asked, shaking his head. “With your youth and energy you would chafe at its plodding beat. You’d find it only wearing, and the life would age you ten years in one” His look now was solemn. “I cannot speak to you as though you were a man. For the life of me, I cannot think of you so. But as you say, you are no simpleton. And I must be honest. Take your season as it’s offered, and try to be content”

  “While you have your war.”

  “‘Tis not my war. You are unkind.”

  “But you have called me brave,” she asserted.

  “No empty words” Again he smiled. “‘Tis true. But it takes equal courage, Miss Billie, probably greater courage, to be patient while confronting the imagined demons-those of worry, and anxiety, and regret. I have seen men go mad with waiting. And waiting-sheer, numbing tedium-is nine-tenths of service.”

  “Which is why you need Bonaparte-as an excuse for a battle.”