Winning the War Hero's Heart

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ he heard Verity say. ‘It is such an important occasion, I am feeling quite nervous.’

  He pulled himself out of his reverie. ‘Oh, I am sure there is no need. These are all your friends, are they not? They have come to wish you well in your life, a life which has all before it.’

  ‘Yes, you have made me feel much easier.’ She smiled at him as they turned at the end of the row and joined hands to execute the next steps. ‘Do you not feel a little nervous yourself?’

  ‘No, do you think I should?’

  ‘I meant because of your limp. You must find it a handicap.’

  ‘It may look ungainly,’ he said, wondering why she had introduced the subject. Had she been schooled by her father to do so? It reminded him that his father had said Lord Somerfield required assurance that it would not interfere with his ability to sire children. It would serve them all right if he said he could not. ‘But it does not prevent me from doing what I want and need to do, Miss Somerfield.’

  If she understood the implication of what he was saying, she gave no indication of it. ‘But you must feel self-conscious about it?’

  ‘No. Do you?’ It was a blunt question, but he did not like being quizzed over it.

  ‘My lord, it is not I who has the disability,’ she said. ‘But Papa says I am not to mind it. It was got in the service of king and country.’

  ‘Indeed it was.’ He was growing more and more impatient with her. It was a strange conversation for a young lady who hoped she was going to receive a proposal. If they had been a loving couple, they would be exchanging compliments and displaying their affection for each other in a dozen different ways. Instead she was talking about his limp. ‘I am lucky—there are many worse off than me.’

  ‘I have not met such a one.’

  ‘Perhaps because you are young and have been shielded from unpleasant sights by your parents.’

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘Does it worry you? I mean my limp.’

  ‘I don’t know. You see, I do not know what it looks like.’

  ‘What it looks like,’ he repeated. ‘Do you mean my leg?’

  She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I did not mean…Oh, dear. I am confused. It is just that Papa said…’

  ‘What did your papa say?’

  ‘That he had been assured it was not disfiguring.’

  He was annoyed. ‘Miss Somerfield, I am not sure we should be having this conversation at this time and in the middle of a dance, but since you have introduced the subject, we will continue it elsewhere.’ He drew her away from the dance floor to the side of the room where they were half hidden by a huge display of flowers. ‘Now,’ he said firmly. ‘You want to know what is wrong with me. I will tell you. Part of a shell pierced my thigh. It had to be dug out by the sawbones…’

  She shuddered. ‘Don’t…’

  ‘But you wanted to know and I am telling you. The muscle was damaged, which is why I limp and why one leg is scarred and much thinner than the other. If you wish to inspect it, I am sure that can be arranged.’

  She gave a little cry and fled. He smiled grimly and left the ballroom by one of the long windows that looked out onto the terrace, where he began pacing up and down. He really should not have spoken to her like that, but if it put her off him, so much the better. The trouble was, it was not her but their respective fathers who were calling the tune. Suddenly it dawned on him that this was a business arrangement: the Somerfield wealth in exchange for a title for the daughter. His earlier suspicions had been confirmed—his father had pockets to let. Was that another reason why the Earl had been so keen to be rid of Helen? Because there could be no financial gain to be made from his son forming an alliance with a woman with no fortune?

  Miles was perplexed. When he had left for the Peninsula, the estate had been in good heart, so what had happened in the six years he had been with his regiment? It did not make any difference to his reluctance to offer for Miss Somerfield. He could not give her the love she deserved, not while his heart was in bondage to Helen Wayland. Marrying Verity Somerfield would be doing her a great disservice.

  ‘Miles, what the devil do you think you are at?’ his father’s voice demanded. He had approached from further along the terrace and Miles, immersed in his dilemma, had not heard him coming. ‘Miss Somerfield is in tears and has had to be taken to her room to be comforted and everyone is talking about the abrupt way you left the ballroom. A lovers’ tiff, they are saying, all agog to learn what it was about.’

  ‘They will not learn it from me.’

  ‘I should think not! But I will. What has put her in such a taking?’

  ‘She quizzed me about my leg and so I told her how it had come about and offered to show her the scar.’

  ‘Good God! How could you? She is not one of your camp followers, she is a gently nurtured young lady of tender years. It was unforgivable of you.’

  ‘I know and I am sorry for it, but I cannot marry someone who is revolted by the very mention of my lameness. It is part of me. It has to be accepted along with the rest of me.’

  ‘Ralph is furious and so is Lady Somerfield. As for your mother…’

  ‘I am sorry, sir. I would not, for the world, upset Mama. Perhaps we should take her home.’

  ‘Not until you have made your peace with Miss Somerfield and danced with her again. And this time act like a proper suitor.’

  ‘I cannot.’

  ‘You know the consequence if you do not.’

  ‘Yes, I know it.’

  ‘Do not think I do not know you are besotted by Miss Wayland; I am not blind. But it is an impossible alliance, you must realise that. She is comely enough, just like her mother, headstrong and self-willed, too, but she is nothing and has nothing and you will need a wealthy wife if you are to maintain the estate as it should be maintained when I am gone. It cannot be done if you are lusting after Miss Wayland…’

  ‘I am not lusting after her,’ Miles protested.

  ‘That is the way it looks to me,’ his father went on. ‘Why do you think I have agreed to drop the charges against her on condition she takes herself off? You will soon forget her. And Verity Somerfield has all the attributes to make a wife for someone of your standing.’

  ‘Pretty and empty-headed.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that? You can mould her to your ways.’

  Miles sighed. ‘Have you told Sobers you are dropping the charge against Helen?’

  ‘Not yet. Do you take me for a fool? When you have done your duty and are betrothed to Miss Somerfield, then I will inform him I have no wish to pursue the matter. Not before.’

  Miles did not like the sound of that. His father did not trust him and he was not sure he trusted his father. ‘Suppose it has been taken out of your hands? Unlike defamation, it is not a civil matter.’

  The Earl shrugged. ‘I am sure something can be arranged. You must leave that to me. Now, are we going back into the house or not?’

  ‘Yes. I will make my peace with Miss Somerfield and I will dance with her again for appearance’s sake, but I will not propose. I need to think about it some more.’

  ‘You are a fool, just as I was once a fool, and you will pay for it as I paid for it. And it will have repercussions, make no mistake.’

  ‘What do you mean? What happened in the past? It is something to do with Miss Wayland’s father, is it not? Or was it her mother?’ he added suddenly.

  ‘None of your business. Forget I spoke. I don’t want your mother upset by anyone, especially by you delving into things long forgotten.’

  ‘But they are not forgotten, are they? Whatever it was has resulted in ill feeling and resentment towards a young lady who had nothing to do with whatever it was.’

  ‘Rubbish. The boot is on the other foot. I do not want to hear another word about it.’

  Miles was even more mystified, but his father had obviously regretted saying what he had and would not enlighten him. He turned to go back ind
oors.

  They did not go into the house by the ballroom window but entered by a side door and made their way into the library, where Lord Somerfield waited. ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  ‘Miles is full of remorse,’ the Earl said.

  ‘Sir, I can speak for myself,’ Miles put in. Then, addressing Lord Somerfield, ‘Where is Miss Somerfield, my lord? I must make amends for my brutish behaviour. She required to know about my disability and I am afraid I was more plain-spoken than I should have been.’

  ‘I will have her fetched.’ His lordship went to the door and instructed a footman standing in the hall to send for Miss Verity.

  She arrived accompanied by her mother and curtsied to them all. Miles noted the evidence of tears disguised with fresh powder. She was little more than a child, unschooled in the ways of the world, and he wondered if she really wanted him to make an offer. Or was she, too, being coerced?

  ‘Viscount Cavenham has something to say to you,’ her father told her. ‘We will leave you together.’

  ‘Let Mama stay,’ she said, reaching out for her mother’s hand.

  Her mother stood determinedly by her side. Miles attempted a reassuring smile. ‘Of course, your mama must stay with you. I would not compromise your reputation for the world.’ He knew, as they all did, that once she had been alone with him, especially under the present circumstances, it was as good as a commitment and he could not bring himself to that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever if he could only think of a way of sidestepping his father’s blackmail.

  The Earl and Lord Somerfield left the room, but not before the Earl had given Miles a meaningful look. As soon as they had gone, Miles turned to Verity. ‘Miss Somerfield, I beg your forgiveness for being so outspoken. All I can say in my defence is that you seemed to want to know about my injury. If I was mistaken in that, I beg your pardon.’

  ‘I only wished to know if it hindered you.’

  ‘To some extent it does.’ He paused. ‘I think we have exhausted that topic for tonight; as you are so obviously tired and distressed, perhaps you should retire.’

  ‘She will not,’ her ladyship put in sharply. ‘You have shamed my daughter in front of everyone and not to reappear will make matters worse. I require you to return to the ballroom together and at least put on some semblance of being in accord.’

  ‘I will do that, of course,’ Miles said, offering Verity his arm. ‘Come, Miss Somerfield. Let us take another turn about the ballroom. I believe I can hear a waltz being played.’

  They left the room together, followed by Lady Somerfield. Everyone turned as they entered the room. He bent to Verity’s ear. ‘Smile, my dear, or you will have the tabbies gossiping and saying we have had a falling out.’

  She put on a brave face as he turned and put his hand about her waist for the dance. Acutely aware of the watchers, he did his best to appear relaxed, but he could not help remembering waltzing with Helen at the Assembly Rooms. They had danced so well together, fitting together so comfortably, his height matched by hers so that her head was just below his chin. He recalled the flowery scent of her hair, the clarity of her hazel eyes looking up at him in a kind of challenge. His limp had not mattered. Tonight was different; tonight he felt ill at ease and awkward. Verity’s head only came up to his chest and she would have had to raise her head to see his face, but she was not even doing that.

  ‘You dance very well,’ he said, trying to make her smile.

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘we will draw a veil over what happened tonight. I suggest you stand up with some of the other young men who will be a better match for you.’

  She lifted her head at that. ‘No proposal, my lord?’

  ‘No, not tonight. You are too upset.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She let out a huge sigh of relief and he realised she did not want the marriage any more than he did. ‘But Papa will not be pleased.’

  He felt like saying, ‘Your papa can go to hell’, but instead smiled and added, ‘Miss Somerfield, his lordship will understand. You are not ready. Tonight is your come out. There will be other occasions to enjoy, new people to meet. You must be sure you are making the right choice.’ And how he hoped and prayed that choice would not be him. It would be better for her to reject him than for him to mortify her by not making an offer. ‘Spread your wings a little first. There is time.’

  She brightened visibly, making the matrons surveying them from the sidelines smile in satisfaction; the quarrel, whatever it was about, must be over. ‘You are very understanding, my lord.’

  It was not understanding, he admitted to himself, but a fervent wish to haul himself out of the pit into which he had unwittingly tumbled. He stumbled on a turn, but righted himself swiftly and would have gone on, but she said suddenly, ‘Do you think we might join Mama?’

  Relieved, he offered her his arm and returned her to where their respective mothers waited. Other young men asked her to dance and he watched her go off with them and wished fervently that she would attach herself to one of them.

  The evening was being brought to a close by fireworks. If any of the guests were disappointed that there was no announcement, their comments were made under their breath as they trooped out into the garden to see the display. Standing between Miss Somerfield and her mother, Miles watched in a kind of daze. He had averted disaster for tonight, but the problem had not gone away.

  * * *

  Helen, resigned to her fate, was sitting at the table in her upstairs drawing room attempting to take stock of her assets ready for the sale. She was alone in the house; Tom and Edgar had gone home before she left for Gayton Hall and Betty had asked for an evening off to visit a friend in the next village and planned to stay with her for the night. How much could she realistically expect to make on the sale? The building had been kept in good repair; though the printing press was old, it had been well looked after and could serve the business for several years before it needed replacing. The furniture was serviceable rather than fashionable and the desks in the shop worn and ink-stained, but there was years of usefulness still in them. Would anyone take it as a going concern? Would the Earl allow whoever it was to work in peace?

  Thinking of the Earl inevitably led to thoughts of Miles and that last glimpse of him, standing in a pool of light at the Somerfield door. The ball would be in full swing and he would be dancing with Miss Somerfield. Had he already offered for her? Were the celebrations of the betrothal already in hand? She heard distant explosions and went to the window to look out towards Gayton. She could not see the village or the hall, they were too far away, but the night sky was lit up with fireworks, signifying the end of the evening. What had happened? Was there general rejoicing? Why could she not stop herself thinking about it? She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of chocolate, which she took to her bedroom to drink once she had made herself ready for bed. It might help her sleep, but she did not hold out much hope of it.

  She had undressed and was sitting on her bed, sipping the hot drink, when she caught sight of her mother’s trinket box on the bedside table. Whatever had to be sold, she did not want to part with those. They were not valuable in any case, except to her. She picked up the green necklace. The last time she had worn that had been at the dance at the Assembly Rooms when she had danced with Miles. That had been a wonderful evening; her court case was behind her with a not-guilty verdict, she was feeling and looking her best and Miles had held her in his arms, not for the first time or the last. There was the night the window had been broken and the day they went to Ravensbrook Manor and he had kissed her. Why had he done it if he had no feelings for her? Why had he suddenly turned away from her at the crossroads? Why was she tormenting herself with questions like that? He was not for her, could never be for her, Verity Somerfield or no Verity Somerfield.

  She was startled by the sound of a roar and crash coming from downstairs. Someone had broken in. She sat there listening, expecting to hear footsteps on the stairs, but
none came and she told herself not to be so fearful. Putting down the necklace and picking up the poker, she advanced towards the door and opened it. She was immediately engulfed in smoke. Through it she could see the stairs were in flames. Her immediate reaction was to shut the door again. The stairs were her only way of escape and they were on fire. Already smoke was curling in under the door, making her cough. She went to the window. Below her the flames were thrusting out through the broken window below her. The crash she had heard must have been the glass blowing out. The downstairs rooms were already well alight. The room behind her was filling with smoke and she could not get the window open. She was coughing badly now and her breathing was ragged. She crossed the room to retrieve the poker she had dropped in order to break the window but, overcome by smoke, she never reached it.

  * * *

  The Cavenham carriage was carrying the Earl and Countess and Miles home from the ball. The Earl had already let his son know how angry he was with him and would have gone on berating him all the way home, if the Countess had not begged him to desist. ‘It is not the end of the world, Gilbert,’ she told him. ‘Miss Somerfield was content to leave things as they are for the present; to be sure, no one was in a mood for celebration. Miles will call at Gayton Hall tomorrow and all will be well.’

  Miles had fallen silent, his chin on his chest, trying but failing to see a way out of his predicament. It was not yet dawn, but the sky seemed to be lighter than usual. Perhaps they would have a few sunny days at last. They would need them if what was left of the corn in the fields were to ripen and the men make a success of the Co-operative. They were good men, working with a will and Helen’s optimistic reports were attracting attention, not only in Warburton but in the surrounding area. The Bury and Norwich Post had repeated them for its readers. When the business was sold, the reports would cease, unless whoever took on the business of the Record decided to continue them. He wished she did not need to go. He wished he could keep her by him and protect her, but the only way that could be done was by turning his back on her. Coming upon her at the crossroads, he had deliberately left her standing in the road, looking lost and bewildered. How he hated himself for that. Earlier tonight he had seen her with the crowd of curiosity-fuelled spectators at the approach to Gayton Hall and still he could not go to her.