“Really, Hugh—have you the gout?”
He turned to find Emily smiling at him.
“You look positively saturnine. If I did not know you better, I might find myself frightened to approach such a forbidding figure.”
He could not help but smile at her exaggerations. “Forgive me,” he said. “I was watching Stanton with Sophia. It’s clear he still harbours intentions towards her. I must speak with her, I suppose.”
“Hugh, no!” The very real alarm in her voice took him by surprise. “Do not even think of doing such a thing—it would be disastrous.”
“How so?”
“Can you not see that a romance forbidden by her straitlaced brother would make the illicit union only more attractive, for it would cast them in the part of star-crossed lovers?”
“No,” he said bluntly. “That is nonsensical.”
Emily sighed, but there was laughter in her eyes. “Dearest Hugh,” she said. “That is why you must not, on any account, speak to her—you have not the least understanding of the emotions of a young lady who considers herself in love. Leave it to me. I shall make sure to depress her good opinion of him with withering comment at suitable opportunities, and she will soon come to see that what appears to be romantic in him is in fact ridiculous. I have every faith in your sister’s good sense.”
“As have I,” Hugh returned swiftly. Although he did not share the thought with Emily, he also had faith in Stanton’s inability to remain constant in his objective if it was not easily achieved. No matter what Emily believed, he had enough understanding of young ladies’ hearts to know that even the most hardened of rakes could scarcely woo two at once and expect them both to remain receptive to his advances.
“In any case, she appears to be quite charmed by her current partner, so it is entirely possible that Stanton will be sent packing.”
Hugh eyed Sophia and Lindsay with misgiving. It was true she was smiling up at him, the resulting dimples in her cheeks making her look particularly fetching. “You think Lindsay has an interest there?”
Emily’s breath caught and she choked slightly.
“May I fetch you a glass of orgeat?” Hugh asked, concerned, as she fought to breathe.
“I’m quite all right, thank you, Hugh,” she said, once she was able. “I think the good colonel’s interest does not lie with Sophia.”
Hugh felt insensibly reassured. His good humour continued despite the fact he had to accompany the Dowager Countess of Royston to supper, during which he was subjected to a litany of the achievements of her son, Harry, against Napoleon. Apparently he had no need of Wellington nor the rest of the army to achieve victory. Hugh had not had the pleasure of encountering the gentleman in question—he determined to ask James next time they were together whether the man was as insufferable and boastful a prig as his mother made him sound or if it was just the ravings of a fond mama that did him no favours. At least not having to contribute to the conversation made it easy for him to keep a casual eye upon Sophia, just in case Stanton broke with all propriety and attempted to approach her during supper. She appeared to be talking intently with Colonel Lindsay, and from all he could tell they were enjoying a most convivial time.
After supper, he retired to the card room. Having enjoyed a game of whist with some gentlemen also seeking sanctuary from the dancing, he took his leave of them and headed back towards the ballroom to check that all was well with Sophia and to see who else might be about. On his way from the card room he was taken by surprise to see Colonel Lindsay standing in the doorway, his grey eyes fixed on Hugh’s limping progress towards him.
Before Hugh could greet him, Lindsay spoke. “I heard from Courtenay that you were not one for deep play, Fanshawe.”
“That, sir, is why I restrict my gaming to assemblies and balls.”
Lindsay’s lips twitched slightly. “I am seeking refuge from matchmaking mamas who are desirous I stand up for every dance,” he confessed. “Will you assist me?”
“There’s a conservatory at the end of the hall,” Hugh said, never expecting to have a reason to be thankful for the number of entertainments his mother had induced him to attend in this very house. He made his way along the hall to show Lindsay. “It should be cooler there too.”
“Thank God for that,” Lindsay said, and no sooner was he through the doors of the unoccupied conservatory than he undid the top buttons of his uniform coat. “That’s better,” he said, seating himself on the long sofa that was against one wall. “How do you survive these things every night?”
He was evidently expecting Hugh to join him in conversation rather than retire once he’d shown him the conservatory, so Hugh sat down on the other end of the sofa from Lindsay. “One becomes inured,” he said. “It helps that I’m no longer in demand on the marriage mart.”
“You must tell me how you have managed that particular feat. I had not thought it possible without losing one’s entire fortune or offending against all propriety, and I do not believe you capable of either of those things.”
“It is on account of my leg.”
“I see.” Lindsay’s tone was matter-of-fact, filled with neither pity nor embarrassment, unlike most. “Does it bother you much?”
“It is, as my brother James was at pains to explain to me, merely a minor inconvenience.” Hugh smiled slightly at the memory. It was either that or weep. “I believe he was attempting to cheer me.”
“Yes, I can see how that would have worked,” Lindsay said, his voice as dry as the Spanish central plains. “Major James Fanshawe is on Wellington’s Staff, is he not?”
“He is, although he is wishful for leave because he means to marry Miss Drury.”
“So many good men rushing into matrimony,” Lindsay mused. “It’s enough to make one despair.” He paused for a moment, then turned his head and looked directly at Hugh, his eyes compelling. “That reminds me of something I wished to raise with you. Horse Guards was not the first time we met.”
Despite the sudden clench of his stomach, Hugh held Lindsay’s gaze steadily, for he was not a coward. “It was not,” he said quietly. “I saw you in the Strand.”
“Would I be correct in thinking that you do not often frequent such establishments?”
Heat rose in Hugh’s cheeks for an instant. He didn’t know why it should matter to him that Lindsay thought him a dull fellow, but he could not lie. “That was the first time.”
“A word of advice, Fanshawe, if I might presume—there are risks associated with such places. If you wish, I could make introductions elsewhere for you.”
Discomfited, Hugh knew neither where to look nor what to say.
“Such houses are more for working men, and there are other places where you would be safe, that is all I mean,” Lindsay said.
He waited for an instant, and when Hugh remained tongue-tied, he changed the subject as if the previous exchange had never happened. “Tell me, what must one do to gain audience with the Adjutant General? Every day I am told to report, and every day I am told he is far too busy for nuisances such as I. If this keeps up, I will return to Portugal to find the Rifles have left without me, for they’re to march to Alcántara in three weeks’ time.”
“Is there nobody else to whom you can discharge your business?” Hugh asked.
“It would appear not,” Lindsay said. “So I suppose I must prepare myself for continued idleness among the good people of the ton. When I bought my commission, I didn’t expect that my battles would be fought against matchmaking mamas in the ballrooms of London.”
Hugh grinned. “I feel sure you are too experienced a campaigner to be caught by their stratagems.”
Lindsay stretched his legs—his long, powerful legs—in front of him. “I dare say,” he said carelessly, “but there are times it feels as if I am engaged upon a forlorn hope.”
Having seen his own mama at work when
it came to trying to arrange the most advantageous marriage possible for her daughter, Hugh could not gainsay the similarity. “In which case, we will be sure to mourn your inevitable demise and honour your memory suitably.”
Lindsay laughed suddenly. It transformed his face, making him appear open and happy and, if such a thing were possible, even more handsome. “You should have more sympathy, Fanshawe—being overlooked by the matchmaking mamas does not render you entirely free from the prospect of being laid to siege,” he said. “I know of at least two ladies tonight who appeared quite cast down whenever you were out of their sight.”
Hugh stared at Lindsay. He couldn’t imagine why he would say such a thing, unless it was to mock Hugh. Lindsay looked at him, and Hugh had the sense he had experienced in the molly house, that Lindsay was seeing to the very depths of him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but one he was somehow reluctant to lose.
“You really have no idea, do you?” Lindsay said, and he sounded surprised.
The conservatory doors opened abruptly, and the sound of chatter and music swirled in, along with three young gentlemen who appeared to have dipped a little too deep.
“Back to it, I suppose,” Lindsay said, and buttoned his uniform coat. “Tell me, Fanshawe, will you dine with me tomorrow at The Clarendon?”
“I should be delighted, sir,” Hugh said as he levered himself clumsily to his feet, because it was both the polite answer and the truth. Although, as he parted ways with Lindsay on regaining the heat and noise of the ballroom and watched the man walking away, he was not entirely sure it had been sensible of him to accept the invitation.
He decided he must put from his mind any thoughts about how Lindsay looked and simply enjoy the company of another military man, free from the stifling atmosphere of balls and assemblies. That might not quiet the feelings that Theo Lindsay stirred in him, but it would be enough. It would have to be.
Chapter Five
Hugh almost failed to recognise Lindsay the next evening when he arrived at the hotel, for the man was out of uniform. The dark green of the Rifles uniform suited him so well it might have been designed especially for him, but the clothes he wore instead also displayed his figure to full advantage. His elegant plum tailcoat, which looked as though it were moulded to his body, showed the breadth of his shoulders, and his skintight fawn pantaloons hid nothing of the muscle in his thighs. Nor did they hide anything else, for that matter. Hugh found it a struggle to keep his eyes on Lindsay’s face as they greeted one another.
Once they had taken their seats and Lindsay had explained his reasoning in quite apologetic tones for inviting Hugh to a hotel instead of his club, Hugh found he was responding to the friendliness in Lindsay’s eyes and that the perfection of his body was becoming easier to—well, not forget, precisely, but put to the back of his mind. It appeared that Lindsay’s intention had been to enjoy a more private conversation with Hugh than a club would have allowed, and his choice of hotel assured them of a meal better than they would have enjoyed in any of the clubs except for Watier’s.
“Although even the dinners there do not entirely make up for the company,” Lindsay admitted.
“I wouldn’t expect you to be a member of such a place,” Hugh confessed, emboldened by Lindsay’s frankness.
“You do not see me as one of the dandy set? Fanshawe, I am quite cast down by your judgment upon my sartorial shortcomings.” But Lindsay’s eyes were full of laughter, and Hugh knew he had not offended, despite his somewhat infelicitous words. “I know of the club’s reputation, but sometimes even the most intelligent of men hides himself behind affectation or an assumed manner, for amusement or some other purpose. It does not do to judge by first impressions.”
Hugh merely nodded, for he had never been good at summing up people swiftly in the way Emily seemed so easily to do. And then he thought of Stanton, whom he had pegged in an instant.
“I’m sure you’re right,” he said, “although occasionally a first impression is the right one and to be forced to further the acquaintance is punishment indeed.”
“True,” Lindsay said, then he leaned across the table towards Hugh. “I would hope, however, you do not count me among the unfortunate fellows whose acquaintance you would choose not to pursue.”
The laughter in his face was mixed with something that looked like invitation, and Hugh felt his cheeks warm slightly, for surely Colonel Lindsay could not be flirting with him. Thankfully, before his inability to think of a reply became obvious, they were interrupted by the waiter bringing their first course. Lindsay’s choice of venue was more than justified, for they supped on a delightful jardinière soup, removed with turbot and trout à la genevoise.
As they awaited their entrées, Hugh asked Lindsay a question to which he almost dreaded the answer. “Have you had any success with the Adjutant General?”
“If by success you mean have I grown more intimately familiar with his antechamber, then yes, I suppose I have.”
Hugh tried not to show his pleasure at Lindsay’s response. “You would always be welcome in our office should you desire a change of scene. So long as you did not come bearing drink, for I think Courtenay has not yet recovered from your evening together.”
Lindsay snorted. “Light Bobs. They deserve their name.”
Hugh grinned, then took the opportunity of making mockery of an obviously inferior regiment to ask something he had wondered about. “What led you to join the Rifles?”
Lindsay sat back in his chair. “I find the Rifles intriguing—they are far more flexible, more interesting than the long-established regiments.” He smiled suddenly, one which showed a lot of teeth. “I also happen to like their Baker rifles. So much more accurate than the Brown Bess.”
The waiter brought more dishes at that point, and conversation was briefly suspended while they were served. Once the man had retreated, his shoes silent on the thick carpet, Lindsay continued.
“Of course, my going into the Rifles caused my father practically to disown me, breaking with family tradition in such a way. I take it you did not have that problem, following your brother as you did into the 7th Foot?”
“My only difficulty was my mother’s determination that I should enter the church instead of buying a commission.”
“What a waste that would have been,” Lindsay declared, as he speared a piece of quail with his fork.
Hugh was not sure of Lindsay’s meaning, so he concentrated on the food on his own plate.
“Perhaps I will take you up on your offer to cool my heels in your office rather than the antechamber,” Lindsay continued. “At least there I will not have to overhear the heated discussions about Wellington’s fitness to command.”
Hugh’s head shot up, and he fixed his eyes on Lindsay’s face. He knew there were disagreements between Horse Guards and Wellington, but had no idea they were that serious.
“Surely they can’t mean that,” he protested. “He has secured so many victories, and it is only a matter of time before he has the French on the run for good.”
“But look at the time it has taken him and the men he has lost. Not to mention what it has cost the country.” Lindsay’s smile was mocking. “And when I say do not mention it, I mean do not mention it, for they do not give a fig about the men lost, but pretending they do sounds so much better than protesting at the expense of the campaign.”
“Do they think anyone else could have done better?” Hugh asked, anger licking up in him.
“As to that…” Lindsay put down his cutlery and leaned back in his chair as he gave it careful consideration. “Given the officers they keep foisting upon Wellington, I suggest the answer to your question is yes. Would you believe, when he complained about Erskine being a madman, he was told simply that during his lucid intervals, he was uncommonly clever? And only yesterday, I thought the Military Secretary was about to go off in an apoplexy on receipt of one of We
llington’s letters. When he read out choice parts of it to the Adjutant General, which I could hear perfectly well even from where I was sitting because he was so incensed, I could understand why—Wellington hoped, among other things, that when the enemy reads the names of his generals, he trembles as much as Wellington did.”
Hugh couldn’t hold back his laughter. It encouraged Lindsay, who observed him with eyes that danced with humour. “It is, I think, the iciness with which Wellington delivers his setdowns that has the administration so incensed. Oh God, Fanshawe, you should have heard him when Gordon lost the supply column—not a heated word from him, despite the fact he had been out there personally quartering the countryside in search of his truants, but instead the most terrifyingly cold and devastating reproach I have ever heard. And when in the course of his search he encountered the officer in charge of baggage, who confessed to him that he had lost the baggage, Wellington didn’t fly off into a temper but instead answered him, ‘Well, I can’t be surprised, for I cannot find my army’.”
Hugh’s laughter was as much at Lindsay’s great delight in the outrageous tales as it was at their content. But then the seriousness of the underlying problem struck him, and it was exactly what he had thought, about men being promoted by seniority rather than ability.
“This is precisely—” He stopped suddenly, for he recollected himself. It was one thing to speak of his fears to James in the morning room in Half Moon Street where they could not be overheard; another entirely to volunteer them to a man who was, he must remember, no more than an acquaintance, no matter how comfortable his company, and who was moreover a senior officer. As was James, of course, but they were brothers first and foremost.
A Minor Inconvenience Page 4