“Lost in the poetical throes of passionate romance?” Lindsay suggested.
“I was about to say making a cake of himself,” Hugh said. “But Sophia—I am sure that no matter how handsome she might think him, she would never hear such nonsense without succumbing to giggles.”
“It’s possible I exaggerated his words a little,” Lindsay confessed. “Perhaps he merely mentioned how prettily her eyes shone and that her smile could light the room.”
“Well, that’s bad enough,” Hugh said indignantly. “What sort of a fellow spouts such claptrap?”
“I take it you have never courted a lady,” Lindsay said. “At least, not successfully.”
Hugh choked on his punch. And then something, whether honesty or some inner demon, prompted him to answer. “No, I never have.”
Lindsay fastened his eyes on Hugh’s suddenly, and the look in them was such that Hugh found it difficult to breathe. Lindsay eventually looked away, leaving Hugh somewhat dazed.
When Lindsay spoke, it was as if the moment had never existed. “What are you going to do about Stanton?”
“I am not sure what I can do,” Hugh confessed. “He has not gone beyond the line in any way, and although he knows I am watching, he sees me of no account due to my leg.”
“Then he’s a fool,” Lindsay said strongly.
Hugh could not prevent the smile that tugged at his lips at Lindsay’s words. But they were fated to enjoy no further private conversation for Hugh was being hailed from along the corridor. He looked up to find James making his way towards them.
“What are you doing skulking out here?” James started, and then caught sight of Lindsay standing slightly behind Hugh. “My apologies, sir—I did not see you there. Major James Fanshawe of the 7th Foot.”
“Colonel Theo Lindsay, 95th Rifles. And to answer your question, Major, we are skulking out here to avoid the devious manoeuvres of those who would see their daughters married.”
James laughed, the smile that adorned his face making him look even more like a figure from Greek myth than he already did. “In that case, I cry craven and will join you.”
“You are already promised, so you are joining us under false pretences,” Hugh pointed out. “Also, with your scarlet coat, you will be missed, and when your many admirers come searching for you, they will discover us.”
“Are you saying the ladies find the scarlet more appealing than the green?” Lindsay asked. “I believe I have just been insulted.”
“Yes, Hugh, please do explain to the colonel why I should be more in demand than he is.”
“I think,” Hugh said in a dignified manner, “I shall leave the matter of regimental honour to be settled between the two of you.”
“You forget, brother, that you too have a horse in this race,” James pointed out before turning back to Lindsay. “Are you on leave, sir?”
“Alas, no. I am waiting upon the Adjutant General’s pleasure before I return to the regiment.”
“You mean you’re stuck at Horse Guards twiddling your thumbs?” James surmised.
“If you wish to put it that way, then I suppose I am.”
“My condolences,” James said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lindsay said, and as James took a drink from the glass in his hand, Lindsay ran his gaze over Hugh. “It has its compensations.”
Hugh didn’t know where to look, nor what to say. Thankfully James did not appear to notice anything amiss because he was continuing to talk, suddenly serious. “That fellow of yours who took out the French general at Corunna was an extraordinary shot.”
“He is,” Lindsay said. “As are they all.”
James was all too pleased to agree with this—and Hugh knew that Lindsay was not being boastful in the least; the 95th were held in high regard—before plunging into further talk about recent happenings and people Hugh did not know but of whom James and Lindsay appeared to share some knowledge. He stood there, knowing he should excuse himself gracefully but unwilling to cede the field to James, despite the fact he and Lindsay were engaged in lively conversation.
Eventually he became aware that he was not only distinctly de trop, but also just a little pitiful still standing there, so he made his excuses in order to retreat. As he did so, Lindsay’s hand fell upon his sleeve. “I have not forgotten, Fanshawe—we will arrange a time.”
James looked between them, evidently surprised at the level of familiarity. It was some balm to Hugh’s wounded feelings as he made his way back down the corridor, trying his best not to limp too badly just in case either of them were watching. It had been ever thus with James—his lively mind, generous spirit and good looks meant that all who encountered him fell a little under his spell. Hugh did not mind it usually, but he wished that, just this once, James would have kept his distance.
Chapter Eight
Hugh awoke the next morning to the quiet sounds of Murray in the dressing room. He lay in bed while Murray laid out all he would need to prepare for the day ahead of him and continued to laze as he was left in peace again. He felt in no hurry to report to Horse Guards and whatever stack of paperwork demanded his immediate attention today.
Instead he found himself thinking about Lindsay, about how he had enjoyed his company the previous evening, and how he had seen him again later, an elbow propped upon the mantel as he had engaged in deep conversation with James. Even when relaxed and unconscious of being observed, Lindsay was graceful. In that, he was so different from Hugh, who had not been known for his grace even before his injury. But the strange thing was that when Hugh was with him, he forgot about his leg.
He had often wished he could somehow have stayed with the regiment in the Peninsula, where injuries such as his were common and others were worse off, and nobody thought anything of those who were afflicted. It was the curiosity and distaste he encountered in London, and the way his mother had cried when she had first seen him walk, that had made him feel less than whole. Lindsay did not make him feel that way. In part, Hugh suspected it was because he too was a military man, yet Courtenay did not hesitate to flick barbed comments at him on occasion, and James, while meaning so well, made Hugh all the more self-conscious because of the very real difference between them. James had tucked his arm through Hugh’s last night and attempted to walk with him, doubtless thinking he was helping Hugh but actually pulling him off balance and making his progress even more awkward. Thankfully Sophia had demanded James’s attention almost immediately, meaning he had left Hugh to his own devices once more.
Hugh frowned slightly as he rubbed his leg, which was aching from another long evening spent standing. He had not realised Sophia was beginning to make a public spectacle of herself in refusing to rebuff Stanton’s improper advances. For Lindsay to be aware of what had passed between them meant that others too might have overheard. He remembered Lindsay and Emily had stood up together beside Stanton and Sophia at the Trents’ ball, which presumably was where this conversation had occurred. And then he drew in a breath as he realised—perhaps that was why Lindsay had stepped in, inviting her to dance and escorting her to supper, all to prevent Stanton’s attentions becoming even more particular, and Sophia, well-behaved as she was, had no alternative but to accept Lindsay’s company with good grace and apparent enjoyment.
He was not sure why Lindsay would put himself to so much trouble, yet now he had thought of it, he was reasonably certain that was what he had done. Hugh could not decide why he felt able to accept Lindsay’s intervention and feel grateful for it, rather than humiliated that he had been unable to step in himself. He thought perhaps it was because Lindsay made everything seem easy and natural between them. In that, as in all else, he was exceptional.
Exceptional as he was, there were still many things about Theo Lindsay that left Hugh confused. He had thought last night, when Lindsay’s eyes had travelled with intent over his body while he spoke of compens
ations, that he was indeed interested in Hugh in the way that Hugh was in him. His presence at the molly house made it clear that he had an interest in men in general. What remained unclear was whether he had any interest in Hugh. Why should he, after all? Yet Hugh could not shake the feeling—perhaps no more than a hope—that there was something between them. As he thought again of the way Lindsay had looked at him, the intent in his eyes, the way his uniform hugged his powerful body, he found he was becoming aroused.
He threw back the blankets and got out of bed. It was one thing to wish and hope, but another thing entirely to allow those thoughts free rein in a way that meant he would never again be able to look Colonel Lindsay in the face. He turned his attention to dressing for the day, and his plight slowly eased.
…
Upon arrival at Horse Guards, he found a letter addressed to him upon his desk. He discovered on opening it that it was from Colonel Lindsay; he had been called out of town for a few days but would greatly enjoy the company of Captain Fanshawe for dinner in his lodgings upon his return on Friday of that week. Hugh could not help but smile as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Lindsay had been as good as his word and remembered the casual commitment he had made to Hugh.
As he sharpened his quill in preparation for the day’s work ahead of him, Hugh suddenly realised it did not say much for their security that Lindsay—or somebody acting on his behalf—had been able to leave the letter on Hugh’s desk while their office was unoccupied. Before the conversation with James, he had always thought the sentries on duty were enough to control access to the building. Realising the ease with which Lindsay had come and gone during his time there, he began to wonder. While it was entirely proper for Lindsay to have access, Hugh did not know how many less-trustworthy types might enjoy the same ease of movement through the building. Regarding the ordered paperwork on his desk, and the messy piles that covered almost the entire surface of Courtenay’s, he wondered if they should put a lock upon their door.
He mentioned his thoughts to Courtenay when he finally appeared.
“A lock? What has prompted such an excess of caution?”
Mindful of James’s warning to mention their conversation to no one, Hugh shrugged. “It was an idle thought, no more.”
Courtenay’s eyes were sharp upon his face. “Something must have prompted it. Even your prudence is not usually quite so pronounced.”
Damn it, Hugh really should have thought this through before raising it. “I arrived to find a letter on my desk,” he said, for Courtenay would see through any dissembling. “It made me wonder who has access to our office.”
“You fear you will be robbed blind here at Horse Guards?” Courtenay helped himself to a pinch of snuff as his eyebrows raised mockingly, before offering his box to Hugh.
“It was an idle thought,” Hugh disclaimed, declining the snuff with a shake of his head.
“If you would feel safer, then by all means, go ahead, my dear Fanshawe,” Courtenay said. “I would hate for you to sit there quaking in your boots lest some footpad happen by and make off with one of your valuable requests for leave.”
Hugh said nothing further. It had been foolish of him to raise the subject in the first place. He supposed any spy worth his salt would be able to circumvent a locked door with ease. In addition, if a spy felt his presence was suspected, he would act with more caution and be more difficult to catch. Once he realised that, he was thankful he had mentioned his blockheaded idea only to Courtenay.
Hugh settled to his work. If he smiled occasionally as the paper in his pocket rustled, well, it made the day pass more swiftly.
…
On Friday afternoon, Hugh left Horse Guards earlier than was his habit and took himself to Half Moon Street. He hoped to see James, because he would welcome his thoughts on the ease of access to their offices. As James was not familiar with Horse Guards—his precise expressed wish had been to have his entrails dug out by a French Eagle rather than darken the doorstep of the place—he would presume that all there was safe. It was not necessarily the case that somebody there was a spy—it might be that somebody not on the staff was gaining access.
Hugh’s disappointment at learning from Matthews that Major Fanshawe had gone out was somewhat ameliorated on being informed that Miss Fanshawe was home. His conversation with Lindsay about Stanton had been troubling him and he had determined that he must speak to Sophia, no matter Emily’s strictures on the matter. While he was sure he could trust Lindsay’s discretion completely, and had his own reasons to know that was the case, for somebody outside the family to be aware of her encouragement of Stanton’s attentions meant things had gone too far. He was mindful of what Emily had said and determined to be subtle rather than let loose the broadside he wished about that gentleman’s morals and behaviour.
First, however, there was the delicate matter of finding a way to raise the subject.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” he asked.
“Oh yes, it was such a crush, and best of all, no Marquess present for Mama to fix her eye upon.”
“I’m sure you didn’t lack for other partners.”
“Everyone there was most gallant in soliciting a dance,” Sophia said. “I could have wished some of them had paid more attention to Lavinia, but then, she has given away her heart so she would doubtless have declined any offers.”
“Miss Williams has a suitor?” Hugh tried to cover his surprise, although he suspected he was not entirely successful.
“There is one gentleman who appears to have a very particular interest in her, but it is to no avail—she is quite set upon a military gentleman.”
“They do not always make the best of husbands, you know, with so much time overseas.”
“So I have told her, but there is one particular military gentleman who has stolen her heart.”
Hugh’s eyebrows raised interrogatively, and then the true meaning of Sophia’s speaking look was borne in upon him. “No,” he said, horrified. “No, dash it, Sophia—you can’t mean…”
“But, Hugh, how could you think otherwise after the gallantry of your heroic rescue at the Fitzroys’ ball? You won her heart there and then, and everything you have done since has determined her that you are the best, the kindest, the noblest of gentlemen, with a visage to cast Adonis himself into the shade.” Sophia’s voice was shaking as she reached the end of her paean to Hugh’s attributes.
“Sophia!” Hugh was horrified. “You cannot encourage this nonsense.”
“Oh, but what could be better than my best friend and my best brother becoming husband and wife?” Sophia said, but there was enough of a mischievous sparkle in her eyes for Hugh to realise she was not fully serious. “Do not be alarmed, dear brother—I suspected those would be your feelings and I will convey to her the true state of your affections.”
“Sophia.” Hugh could not understand how his sister had become so lost to all notion of proper behaviour. “You can’t do such a thing. She will be mortified you have told me.”
“You misunderstand me, Hugh. I will explain to her your tragic circumstances—doomed to be violently in love with Lady Emily, lost to all reason and driven to the point of madness by your passion for her, taking on any and all challengers for her hand in duels to the death. But alas, it is all in vain because Lady Emily remains faithful to the memory of her late, dear husband, for whom she mourns every day and cannot wait to join in the grave. It is quite possible Lavinia might enter into a consumptive state and die from a broken heart because you do not return her affections, but I am sure an unforeseen hero will appear and save her from such a lonely fate.”
Hugh regarded her with a mixture of horror and fascination. “Have you been borrowing novels from the circulating library again?” he asked suspiciously.
She gave him a sunny smile. “Not I, this time, but Mrs Radcliffe’s stories are Lavinia’s very favo
urite.”
He shook his head in wonder. “You really are a brat.”
“Well, that is not at all gentlemanly of you, Hugh. I am most disappointed.”
Her pout was almost enough to make him laugh, but then he recalled himself and what it was he had hoped to talk to her about. “Sophia, there is something I must mention to you.”
The laughter in her face faded at his tone. “Yes?”
“Your standing up so often with Stanton is beginning to cause talk,” he said. “I think it advisable for you not to do so every time you see him.” There, even Emily would have to allow that was a diplomatic approach, suggesting rather than forbidding.
“Do you indeed?” Sophia’s chin was up and her eyes sparkled dangerously. “Well, I think it is up to me with whom I dance, and all the old tabbies who have nothing better to do than to gossip about it can go and jump in the Thames!”
Hugh stared at her for an appalled moment, and then he spoke his mind, all thoughts of forbearance fled. “He is a ramshackle fellow with a reputation for dalliance, and you do yourself and your reputation no good by welcoming his advances. Let me speak plainly, Sophia—you are very beautiful, but you have no fortune that would tempt a man of his character to marriage.”
“And you are such a model of duty and honour and propriety and—and orderliness before all else!” She hurled the words at him. “You cannot understand a man like Ralph, how passionate and sensitive he is! It is not his fault that the rest of the ton do not see him for the man he is, judging him instead on outmoded notions of what they think is proper.”
“You call him by his name? Sophia, can you not see how wrong this is? He is taking advantage of your feelings to lure you into behaviour that does not become you. And you may think me stuffy, but do you really wish to be connected to a man who, in your own words, has no notion of duty or honour or propriety?”
Tears sprang to Sophia’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” she accused him, her voice wobbling perilously. “You have never been in love, and you cannot understand what it means.”
A Minor Inconvenience Page 6