A Gentleman Always Remembers

by Candace Camp

  However, Eve was not about to turn the colonel over to his hostess. The colonel had always been a good friend to her, especially after Bruce’s death. He had helped her through the funeral, taking on many of the things that had to be done after someone died. His own wife had passed away four years before that, and he was, he assured her, well aware of the grief that faced her.

  Eve had turned down most offers of help, preferring to pack her clothes and to sort through Bruce’s things herself; she was not a woman who shared her moments of grief. But the colonel’s help had been as efficient as it was kind, and she had been grateful to him.

  “I fear that I have done little of interest, sir,” she told him now. “I returned to my father’s house.”

  “But now you are here. And I understand that you intend to be in London next Season.”

  “Yes.” No doubt Sabrina had been happy to tell him that Eve was now a lowly chaperone. “Lord Stewkesbury was kind enough to hire me to be a companion for his cousins during their first Season. Lady Vivian plans to sponsor them.”

  “So she told me. I had not realized that you and Humphrey’s niece were friends.”

  “We went to school together. I have not seen her as much as we would have liked in recent years.”

  “Yes.” He smiled faintly. “One goes where the army sends one.”

  “You are familiar with that, of course.”

  “I am glad to see you looking so well. Obviously helping these young girls agrees with you.”

  “You are kind to say so. But yes, I am enjoying my time here. And how have you been these last two years?” Eve asked, ignoring the eyes that she could feel burning a hole in her as they continued to chat.

  She would have been surprised, had she turned to look, to find that Sabrina was not the only one watching them. Fitz was gazing at them, too, leaning against the far wall, his face knotted in a scowl so fierce that the others at the party left him to himself.

  What the devil was Eve doing talking to the fellow so long? he wondered. The colonel was old enough to be her father. Surely she could see that. She could not be interested in him. The colonel, Fitz could see, was certainly interested in her. He had neatly cut her from the rest of them and maneuvered her over into a corner by herself. If she was so worried about her reputation, she ought to consider that it would not help it to be seen cozying up to this man.

  If he had been himself, Fitz would have seen the absurdity of his thoughts, the comedic properties of his position. But the truth was, he was not himself. He hadn’t been for days now. It had annoyed him that Eve wanted to end the budding romance between them, but he had also known, with some degree of guilt, that she was right in her assessment of the situation. It would go much harder on her if rumors got out about her and Fitz. And however hard they tried and however faithful the servants were, there was always the possibility that something would get out. He had decided to be the gentleman and cease his pursuit of her. After all, he was not the lightweight, amoral chap she assumed him to be. He would not try to seduce her into going against her own wishes.

  But he had been unprepared for the odd hurt that had settled on him. She, it seemed, could quite easily give him up. She just went on about her duties, smiling and talking to the others, bustling about her business. It was painfully obvious that she did not miss his presence at all. Whereas he . . .

  He had been awkward and ill at ease around her—he, who had never been awkward around a woman in his life! He could not look at her without remembering their kisses and caresses. And he could not remember those things without wanting to take her into his arms again. Hunger rose in him whenever she was around, so that he had begun to avoid the places where he might run into her—though clearly that did little good, as he spent all his time thinking about her anyway. He had even taken to brooding, actually brooding, in Oliver’s office or the smoking room, avoiding everyone and attempting to forget his problems by plunging into work. (Though he could not understand how his brother could find solace from whatever beset him, as he said he did, by plunging into such deadly dull stuff.)

  And while he was standing there, watching her, and aching because he longed to touch her and knew he could not, she was flirting with some old warhorse. It was, he thought, the outside of enough. The height of unfairness. And while he knew in some remote part of his being that he was probably being ridiculous, he could not suppress the thrust of jealousy, like hot iron, through his chest. With a low noise that rather resembled a growl, he levered himself away from the wall and strode across the room toward the other couple.

  “Mrs. Hawthorne. Colonel.”

  Eve jumped, startled at the sound of Fitz’s voice behind her. She turned and was amazed to see Fitz smiling in a determined way at Willingham, though she was not sure that smiling was the proper term for the grim baring of teeth that Fitz displayed.

  “Fi—I mean, Mr. Talbot.” Eve schooled her voice to a pleasant tone. “Please join us.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to the colonel. “I am so pleased to meet a friend of Mrs. Hawthorne’s. Are you stationed nearby?”

  “Oh no. I am on leave and was going to Lancaster to visit some relatives. It gave me an opportunity to see Lord Humphrey.”

  “It must have been a welcome surprise to learn Mrs. Hawthorne was staying here.”

  “Yes indeed.”

  “You are alone? Mrs. Willingham did not accompany you?” Fitz went on.

  Eve stared at him. Fitz was acting most unlike himself. The easygoing charm was nowhere in sight. His face was set, his eyes intent on the colonel’s face. In fact, he seemed to be almost interrogating the man.

  “I am a widower, sir. My wife died many years ago.”

  “My condolences.”

  Colonel Willingham accepted his words with a stiff nod.

  “The colonel was most helpful to me when Major Hawthorne died,” Eve said, trying to turn the conversation onto a friendlier path. The two men did not seem to get along, which was scarcely surprising. Fitz and Willingham were utterly different. What was surprising was that Fitz was trying to talk to him at all.

  “Was he?” Fitz’s eyes flicked over to the older man, his gaze assessing.

  “I did what I could,” Willingham said modestly. “The major was one of my best soldiers.”

  “No doubt.” Fitz nodded. “Have you, um, kept up with Mrs. Hawthorne through the years, then?”

  “No, I fear we quite lost track of each other,” Eve inserted. Fitz’s manner was almost rude.

  It was a relief when Vivian and her uncle joined them. “Come, come, gentlemen, I cannot allow you to take up all of Mrs. Hawthorne’s time,” Vivian said. “I have been most eager to see her again. Uncle Humphrey, you should tell Fitz about the hunt you were thinking of organizing.”

  Deftly Vivian edged Eve away from the group, leaving the three men together.

  “Thank you,” Eve told her friend. “I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Fi—Mr. Talbot was behaving in a most peculiar way.”

  “I could see. I believe our dear Fitz has scented a rival.”

  “What?” Eve glanced at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Fitz is feeling a bit jealous of Colonel Willingham.”

  Eve stared, then said abruptly, “Don’t be ridiculous. He isn’t jealous. Why would he be jealous?”

  Vivian did not reply, simply gave her a speaking look.

  “Fitz Talbot is not interested in me,” Eve told her flatly. “If you had been around the last few days you would know how unlikely that is. We have not been in each other’s company except at mealtimes, when everyone is there. He makes not the slightest effort to seek me out or—” Eve broke off abruptly.

  “Then he’s something of a dog in the manger because he definitely looked to me as if he was warning the colonel off.”

  “Really, Vivian . . .”

  Vivian raised her brows. “You think I don’t recognize the signs? My dear Eve, I will remind you that I am something of an exp
ert in this regard. Men frequently try to establish their claim to the daughter of a duke.”

  “But we are talking about me, not you. I’ve told you how Fitz has dropped his pursuit—for which I am most grateful, I assure you—and the idea of Colonel Willingham thinking that I—it’s absurd. He is almost old enough to be my father.”

  “Some women like a distinguished-looking man and an air of authority. And fifteen years is certainly not enough to give men pause. Why, look at my uncle and Sabrina. There is a far larger gap there.”

  “Yes, well, I am not Sabrina.”

  “Thank God.” Vivian gave Eve’s arm a friendly squeeze. “But truly, do you have no interest in the colonel? I must say I wondered myself. You looked so happy to see him.”

  “It was nice to see an old friend. And it was such a surprise. But no . . .” Eve shook her head. “I have no interest in the colonel. He is but a friend.”

  “What of Fitz?”

  “He is a friend as well.” At Vivian’s skeptical look, Eve went on, “What else can he be? You were the one who warned me about him.”

  “Yes, I know.” Vivian turned her head toward the group of men they had left. “But Fitz seems different. I have never seen him act this way about a woman before. Even the fact that he has stopped pursuing you is unlike him.”

  “I am sure he has grown uninterested in women before.”

  “I don’t think it’s a lack of interest. It might be that this time he cares more about the woman than his own desire.”

  Eve could not quite quell the spurt of hope that rose inside her at Vivian’s words, but she firmly shoved it back down, shaking her head. “No. ’Tis foolhardy to think that way. I have told Lily that she must be practical. I must be that way as well. I cannot, I will not, fall in love with him.”

  The rest of the evening passed slowly. Dinner was long, and Sabrina made herself the center of attention. Whenever Vivian or Colonel Willingham or Neville made an effort to move the conversation to some other topic, such as the balloonist who had landed in their meadow, Sabrina immediately found some way to turn the talk back to herself. She flirted madly, fluttering her lashes and plying her fan not only with Fitz and Neville but also with Colonel Willingham. What Lord Humphrey thought of her performance Eve could not imagine. He looked frankly bored most of the time and was at his liveliest when he and the colonel fell to talking about old times. However, since Sabrina’s mouth immediately began to turn down sulkily and the looks she sent her husband became longer and harder, he soon subsided into silence.

  For once Fitz made little effort to keep the conversation going. He ignored Sabrina’s flirtatious efforts and spent most of the time talking to Vivian or Lord Humphrey on either side of him. Eve kept most of her attention on her two charges. She could sense Lily’s anger building beside her as Sabrina flirted with Neville, while across from her Camellia appeared to wilt as the evening passed, listlessly pushing food around on her plate but eating little. Neither girl seemed concerned with the success of their party, and indeed Eve had to admit that it hardly seemed as if it was their party, what with the way Sabrina was monopolizing the conversation. The best thing she could say about the evening was that Sabrina was so busy flirting that she did not send any barbs their way.

  After dinner the women retired to the music room while the men spent an inordinately long time over their port and cigars. Eve was inclined to think that they were simply avoiding joining the women again. She could scarcely blame them. Sabrina began to play the piano, and when the men finally returned she pounced on Neville, insisting that he turn the pages for her. He countered by asking Lily to come stand with him and sing the songs. Eve had to smother a smile at the neat way he had outmaneuvered Lady Sabrina, but from the expression on Sabrina’s face, Eve was certain that she would find some way to make Lily pay for this in the future.

  Colonel Willingham seized the opportunity to seat himself in the chair beside Eve, but Fitz came up and sat on her other side and once again inserted himself into their conversation. To Eve’s relief he did not resume his interrogation of the colonel, but his presence made the situation awkward and the conversation stilted.

  Eve was soon wishing that the evening would draw to a close. She was tired, and Camellia looked as if she might fall asleep in her chair. Eve could not help but worry that the girl had fallen ill. However, she could not take her upstairs with their guests still there, and it did not look as if Sabrina was ever going to suggest leaving. Finally, however, Vivian rose and began the polite routine of departure, taking the decision out of Sabrina’s hands. After a round of thank-yous and good-byes the guests finally left.

  Eve whisked Camellia up to bed. Though Camellia assured her that she was only tired, her forehead was hot to the touch, and Eve found it telling that Camellia did not protest Eve’s fussing over her. Instead she simply undressed and crawled into bed and let Eve wring out a cool cloth and lay it across her forehead.

  “I’ll feel better tomorrow,” Camellia said as she closed her eyes.

  “Of course you will.” Eve watched as the girl drifted immediately into sleep.

  Frowning, she left the room. Camellia was normally so healthy and strong, so it was worrisome that she was not feeling well. Eve went across the hall to check on Lily. If Camellia had caught some fever, it seemed likely that her sister would come down with it as well.

  She stopped with her hand raised to knock. She could hear the soft sounds of Lily crying inside. Sympathy flooded Eve, and she knocked, then opened the door without waiting for an answer. Lily was lying facedown across the bed, and she turned, sitting up and wiping her eyes, when Eve entered the room.

  “Oh, Lily . . .” Eve hurried across the room and sat on the bed beside Lily. The girl threw her arms around Eve, putting her head on her shoulder, and gave way to tears. Eve patted her on the back, murmuring soothing words, and finally Lily’s tears subsided.

  Lily pulled away, wiping at her face and offering Eve a watery smile. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to cry. It’s just—she made me so angry.”

  “Sabrina?” Eve asked, surprised. She would not have thought the girl’s tears were over Sabrina.

  Lily nodded. “Yes, the way she was flirting with Neville tonight! I was furious—though I think it sweet of him to ask me to sing while she played. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Lily smiled to herself, her eyes turning dreamy. Then she straightened, returning to her earlier thoughts. “It was terrible, the way she acted—and her a married woman. When I came up to bed I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say to her. And then . . . then I realized I haven’t any right to be upset. I have no claim on Neville, and I never will.”

  She did not start to cry again, but her face turned so woebegone that Eve could not keep from reaching out and taking one of her hands. “I am so sorry that you are hurt. I wish Mr. Carr had never come here.”

  “Don’t say that!” Lily’s eyes widened. “Then I would never have known him at all, and that would be awful.”

  Eve had her doubts about that, but she wisely kept silent.

  “I know there is no hope for us,” Lily went on tragically. “But I fear that Cousin Oliver will find this Season wasted on me. Perhaps Camellia will find a husband, but I do not think that I could ever meet someone who could measure up to Neville.”

  “It is some time until the Season starts.”

  “Time will not change how I feel about him.” Lily looked at her with great, limpid eyes.

  Eve knew better than to argue with such a statement. “No one is expecting you to leave the Season with a husband in tow. You are young, and all you need to do is enjoy the parties. There is much to enjoy—dancing, plays, the opera, new clothes.”

  Lily nodded. “Yes, I think I shall like all of that very much. I will not let on to Cousin Oliver that I am anything but happy with everything he has done for us. But . . .” She broke off, her eyes shadowing.

  Eve leaned over to give her a q
uick hug. “Try not to worry overmuch about it. Get some sleep. I am sure that everything will seem better tomorrow morning. Where is your maid? Shall I ring for her?”

  “No. She was asleep on that chair when I came in, so I sent her to bed. I’ll get Cam to unfasten the hooks.”

  “I’ll do them. Camellia is already asleep, poor thing. I think she may be sick. You are not feeling under the weather, are you?”

  Lily shook her head. “No. I thought Cam was quite lively earlier. But maybe she was merely feverish.”

  Eve quickly undid the series of hooks-and-eyes that ran down the back of Lily’s gown and left the room. She started down the hall to her own bedroom, then stopped, swung on her heel, and ran lightly down the steps.

  It was dark downstairs, but the light from the open door halfway down the corridor was enough for Eve to see her way. Her steps slowed as she neared the door, and she stopped before she reached it, listening for masculine voices. The last thing she wanted was to enter the study and find Fitz talking to Neville.

  She heard nothing, so she slipped closer and paused in the doorway. Fitz was seated behind Oliver’s desk, a glass of liquor in front of him, and he was staring sightlessly across the room into the fireplace. He looked . . . unhappy.

  Eve’s heart squeezed in her chest, and she took an involuntary step into the room, saying, “Fitz?”

  “Eve!” He sprang to his feet, a smile on his lips, and started toward her. “Come in. Sit down.”

  He reached for her hand, and Eve let him lead her to the set of chairs in front of the fireplace. She could smell the scent of the alcohol on him, but there was nothing to indicate that he was inebriated. His hand was as steady as ever, his eyes as bright.

  “I am glad to see you,” he told her. “But I can see that you are troubled.”

  “Camellia is ill.”

  “Really?” His brows rose in surprise.

  “Yes, she has a fever, I think. But that is not what brought me here. It is Lily who worries me. I fear she has fallen in love with Mr. Carr. I found her crying in her room tonight.”