by Georgie Lee
‘You think the son of an earl can’t have friends outside his station? I consorted with all manner of men in the Army.’
She glanced up at him through her lashes, making his heart stop. ‘This isn’t the Army and I’m not a man.’
Despite the plain brown dress covering her figure and the equally drab ribbon holding back the richness of her light brown hair, there was no mistaking her for a grimy soldier. He longed to see her in a dress like the one she’d worn at the ball, her eyes sparkling with mirth instead of constantly flicking past him to worry about her employer. Yet, for all his desires, she was correct. If he were still a major, he might come to know her better without raising much scandal, but he wasn’t. The divide between them was as deep as one of the gorges in the Pyrenees. When the house party ended, there’d be no chance to approach her or any reason for them to speak. She would go on to lead her life and unless he married Frances Huntford, which was unlikely, their paths wouldn’t cross again. ‘You’re right, it’s not fair for me to ask you for something you can’t give.’
‘Don’t think I’m ungrateful for your offer. If I was of your class, I’d most certainly be your friend.’ She smiled and his chest stilled at the beauty it brought to her face, then she looked past him. She laced her hands in front of her again and her expression changed from interested delight to the bland deference expected of a woman in her position. ‘I believe the other young ladies are about to launch an attack.’
Miss Chilton, Miss Bell and Miss Selton swarmed up to Luke along with Miss Winborn. Only Miss Huntford was absent, remaining by her mother despite Lady Huntford shooing her to join the ladies.
‘Major Preston, we’ve decided to put on a theatrical while we’re here, Hero and Alexandra. You’re perfect for the lead,’ Miss Selton gushed to the agreeing tittering of her companions.
Luke tried not to wince. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Miss Radcliff sliding away, determined not to be seen by the ladies trying to corner him. He wished he could join her. It wasn’t their attention he wanted, but hers.
‘I’m a very poor actor, but I understand Mr Winborn is quite talented.’ He motioned to the red-haired gentleman as he passed.
Caught off guard, Mr Winborn jerked to a stop, making his port slosh up one side of his glass. ‘I wouldn’t say talented, but I’ve shown some flair in my fair share of lead roles.’
He puffed out his slender chest, ignoring the disappointed frowns of the ladies.
‘Great, then it’s decided.’ Luke waited for the group to flutter off, but they proved as stubborn as a bloodstain.
‘Major Preston, you must have a part in the play,’ Miss Winborn insisted with a most unattractive pout.
‘I’ll watch and applaud.’ He hadn’t left the Army to become a house-party peacock.
‘He’ll be glad to accept a minor role.’ Edward dropped a heavy hand on Luke’s shoulder and gave it a warning squeeze.
‘And so will you.’ Luke rolled his shoulder to dislodge Edward. He might be forced to partake in these idiotic distractions, but he wouldn’t do it alone.
‘Of course,’ Edward agreed through clenched teeth. Beside him, Alma did her best not to laugh.
‘We’ll start rehearsals tomorrow morning.’ Miss Selton clapped her hands together in front of her, more he thought to show off her breasts than to celebrate. Then she linked her arm in Mr Winborn’s and drew him away, followed by the other ladies.
Luke looked for Miss Radcliff. She stood across the room behind his hostess, as distant as when he’d first entered the room. He shifted on his feet, anger and annoyance mingling like smoke and flame in the fire. She shouldn’t be forced to linger in corners while insipid women like Miss Selton commanded the room. Miss Radcliff should be brought into the candlelight to laugh and smile like the others, but it wasn’t her lot. Her parents had abandoned her to be all but reviled by young ladies who thought of nothing except laces and landing a husband. It was as unfair as the officers who used to be passed over for commissions because they didn’t have the right family or connections. Luke had argued vociferously for those men, sometimes winning, but most times not. The culture of the Army was too entrenched against men of modest backgrounds. So was society. Nothing he could say in Miss Radcliff’s favour would change anyone’s mind, or help them see her as more than a humble servant. All it would do is cast aspersion on her and create more gossip for the mamas to chew on.
Luke caught his mother’s eye and she motioned for him to join her at the whist table. He fingered the bugle badge pinned to the lapel of his coat. Guilt stung him. Soon, his regiment would be enduring the encroaching cold as they settled into their winter quarters while he played cards and performed in theatricals. Already, his time with them and the danger they’d shared was beginning to fade, replaced with frivolities as useless as his place in the family and thoughts of Miss Radcliff. In the last few days, he’d mulled over her precarious situation more than his soldiers’.
Sick to his stomach, Luke marched across the room to join in the game. He’d play along for now, but Edward was correct. At some point, after Luke did his duty, he’d be free to return to his regiment and he would. It was the one thing, beside Miss Radcliff’s presence, which kept him from leaving the house party.
* * *
Joanna watched Major Preston play cards with the other ladies and envied them. The part of her eager to be special wanted to garner more of his attention. The practical girl who’d learned not to base her life on dreams made sure she kept her head. Tonight wasn’t the time to set the room alight with speculation and see herself dismissed.
‘You must go play cards with him,’ Lady Huntford commanded her daughter from where they sat on the sofa in front of Joanna.
‘I don’t want to.’ Frances pouted. She was the only eligible lady who hadn’t thrown herself in Major Preston’s path tonight.
‘We aren’t spending all this money for you to speak with Mr Winborn whom you may see whenever you wish. Now come with me.’ Lady Huntford took Frances by the arm and all but pulled her off the sofa. ‘Miss Radcliff, you’re no longer needed. You may go, but don’t tromp through the room like a bull and be discreet about it. I don’t want everyone to think I employ an uncouth governess.’
‘Yes, Lady Huntford.’ Joanna responded, trying not to grit her teeth. No one at Madame Dubois’s had ever been this rude to her. She wasn’t sure why Lady Huntford felt the need to be or to worry about what others thought of Joanna. The entire time she’d been here, no one had noticed her except Major Preston. She doubted anyone would be conscious of her leaving, except him.
As Lady Huntford dragged a reluctant Frances to the card table, Joanna circled the edge of the room, stepping around Sir Rodger’s dog as it chased rabbits in its sleep. She should be glad to be dismissed, to be able to sleep before tomorrow’s duties descended on her, but she was reluctant to leave. She passed by the whist table, subtly studying Major Preston. She admired the fine set of his nose, the sharp arch of his eyebrows and the soft wave of his hair brushed back from his strong forehead. She stopped when his eyes rose to meet hers and the two of them remained linked in their silence.
He wants to be my friend. It was a foolish request, but she appreciated the gesture. I should have accepted it.
She needed all the allies she could muster here in Hertfordshire, even if she wasn’t sure what one like Major Preston could offer her. Despite her refusal, he’d come to her aid if she asked him, she was certain of it. What else might he grant her if she asked it of him?
Then Lady Huntford made a fuss, insisting Lord Selton rise so Frances could sit beside Major Preston. The shuffling of seats at the table pulled Major Preston back into his world and isolated her once more in hers.
Joanna left the light of the sitting room and headed down the dim hallway to the front stairs. She trudged up the first flight, having to fe
el her way along the wall to the back stairs at the end. Even with a house full of guests unfamiliar with the rambling layout, Sir Rodger was too miserly to light more candles. Perhaps he, more than Lady Huntford, could see the waste of this weekend and how he wasn’t likely to gain more from it than a pile of bills.
It wasn’t the dark which concerned her as she climbed the cold and winding flight of stairs to her room, but the subtle change in her situation. Before yesterday, she’d had no friends in Hertfordshire. Now, she had two. Vicar Carlson she trusted. She wasn’t sure how to consider Major Preston. The son of an earl shouldn’t be concerned about the well-being of a lowly governess, and she shouldn’t be flattered by his attention. She’d been warned about overly interested gentleman by Miss Fanworth. It was to her peril if she chose to ignore it. The kindly teacher wasn’t here to help her the way she’d helped Grace, if, in a moment of weakness, Joanna forgot herself. Madame Dubois might have taken her in as a foundling, but she wasn’t sure she’d welcome Joanna back if she ruined herself. Madame Dubois was understanding about many things, but Joanna doubted the strength of young passion was one of them.
At the top of the stairs, she shivered as she crossed the long, bare hall to her room. This narrow and desolate space was so different from Madame’s school, where woven rugs covered the upstairs floor, bright light filled it in the day and the laughter and chatter of girls echoed through it in the evenings. The only sound she heard here was the faint snoring of a maid from behind one of the many doors. When Joanna reached her room Rachael, Grace and Isabel wouldn’t be there to greet her with smiles, sympathy and humour. The only thing waiting for her was the peeling plaster walls and loneliness. She would go to sleep in the dark without friends or anyone here who truly cared about her.
Major Preston cares. She breathed into her hands, trying to warm them. Despite the risks in cavorting with Major Preston, his presence offered her something she hadn’t experienced in a long time—hope. If a man like him could value her company, perhaps some day another would, too, one of more modest means who’d be free to love her without hesitation and whom she could love openly in return.
She slipped into her room which was no warmer than the hallway. The moonlight falling in through the single window washed out what little colour remained in the thin coverlet draped over the rickety bed. She wandered past it and to the window. The drive outside was just as bare as her room before the darkness of the woods enveloped it on either side.
Raising her fingers to the window, she pictured Major Preston emerging from his coach and searching for her. If only the man who might some day come to love her could be him. With a sigh which fogged the window, she pushed away from the glass and began to prepare for bed. It was reality she needed to face, not dreams. Thanks to him, tonight, the reality she might one day have a family of her own didn’t seem so unobtainable.
CHAPTER SIX
‘No, no, no, you’re not saying it right. Try again.’ Miss Selton raised her hands in exasperation at her brother’s poor interpretation of a Greek god.
Luke leaned against the large stone fireplace where a weak flame was limply trying to heat the large room and exchanged an amused look with Miss Radcliff. She sat across the ballroom-turned-theatre near where the mishmash collection of props had been dumped by grumbling servants under Miss Selton’s direction. The young lady had even managed to have the lazy staff remove the sheets from the furniture and make a half-hearted attempt to sweep away the dust covering the stage where the musicians, if there had even been a ball at Huntford Place, might play. He was amazed at her accomplishment since Luke could barely get fresh water in his washstand jug. It was the one mark in favour of Miss Selton, along with her having insisted Miss Radcliff stay for the rehearsal. Miss Selton, who’d taken it upon herself to both direct and play the lead, had assigned the younger Huntford girls small parts, necessitating Miss Radcliff’s presence.
Miss Radcliff returned to reading the letter which had commanded her attention since she’d sat down to watch the rehearsal. A simple peach-coloured dress flowed over the curve of her knees, stopping just above her feet. The long sleeves covered her arching arms as she held up the missive which appeared to amuse her more than the rehearsal. Her eyes glittered with a mirth which increased each time she glanced up to take in the ridiculous actors. In the midst of the chaos around her, she was calm and serene, but the hint of an imp showed itself in more than one reserved smile.
The glow he’d admired from across the room was the only reason he’d remained here instead of leaving to ride Duke. He’d attempted to avoid the play by lingering in his room this morning, but hunger had got the better of him. Not wanting to starve and unlikely to receive a plate of food from the surly butler, he’d been forced to venture downstairs for breakfast.
I’ve become soft already. He used to go for days without food in Spain, now he was wrapped up in a play because his stomach had become accustomed to regular meals. He’d hoped a late night of gambling and conversation would have kept people in their rooms this morning. He’d been wrong. The majority of the guests had risen early and he’d been accosted by the ladies the moment he’d entered the dining room. He and the other gentleman had barely had time to finish their eggs before they were ushered off to begin rehearsals.
In the end, it hadn’t been so awful. Having the freedom to watch Miss Radcliff read, to enjoy the sparkle of humour softening her face almost made capitulating to his hunger pangs worth it.
Then her smile faded, and a small line settled between her brows as she turned the letter over to read the other side. On stage, Mr Selton stumbled over his lines again, drawing chuckles from the other actors, but Miss Radcliff didn’t notice. She was so absorbed in the seriousness of her missive, even the twins sifting through the fake swords and shields searching for treasure had failed to capture her notice. Not even his studying her, wondering what the matter was, was enough to draw her away.
He pushed off the stone mantel ready to go to her before he stopped himself. He’d suffered hunger and not raided storehouses, endured a tongue swollen with thirst but refused filthy water. He would resist the draw of her and the risk of making everyone tut in disapproval at his behaviour as they had Mr Selton’s inability to pronounce ‘pungent’.
‘Major Preston, would you like to share my book and study your lines?’ Miss Bell approached him with a little too much eagerness. A number of guests had sent their servants back to their estates to retrieve their copies of the play, but there still weren’t enough to go around. The lack of copies provided numerous opportunities for couples to step to one side and talk, especially Miss Huntford and Mr Winborn, who gossiped together at the corner of the stage, the open book in front of them all but forgotten.
‘No, I’m quite content to watch the others.’
‘I’ll study with you,’ Mr Chilton offered, but it didn’t raise her crestfallen expression as she followed him to a set of chairs near the window.
‘At least try and look as if you want to be here.’ Edward banged his copy of the play against Luke’s chest.
‘Is this better?’ Luke threw his brother an overly large smile while holding a curt response behind his teeth. It was a wonder he hadn’t bitten off his tongue in an effort to not quarrel with Edward as Miss Radcliff had suggested. If his unwillingness to engage Edward had dampened the anger threatening to flare up between them, it was difficult to discern, but he was determined to try.
Edward frowned at Luke. ‘You should’ve accepted Miss Selton’s offer to play the lead. It’s obvious she has a preference for you.’
‘You mean my chances of inheriting a title. You should be glad I’m not encouraging her. She’s so determined, she might try and secure my inheritance faster, then you’d have to watch what’s in your tea.’ He smacked the book against Edward’s chest, but held on to it, taking it with him as he crossed the room.
Curse
them all and what they thought. It wasn’t like him to wait idly by while what he wanted was mere feet away.
‘Will you help me practise my lines?’ He held out the book to Miss Radcliff.
At last the letter lost its hold over her. She looked up at him, the faint trouble wrinkling her smooth forehead easing as she cocked her head and smiled.
‘All three of them?’ she teased while she folded the letter and slipped it in her pocket.
‘It’s a very demanding part. I’m playing the commanding general. Quite against type.’
‘It will definitely be a stretch for you.’ She took the book from him and her fingers brushed his. They paused at the meeting of their flesh and, for the first time since he’d entered the ballroom, it seemed warm and comfortable. Her eyes, framed by her dark lashes, opened wide with surprise. He lost himself in their brilliant azure and almost forgot all his duty to his family. Thankfully, she kept her head.
‘I’m sure your authentic performance will outshine even the lead.’ She pulled away with the book and motioned to the stage where Miss Selton indulged in an overly dramatic reading of her lines, her high voice echoing off the rafters.
Luke shook off his momentary and troubling infatuation. In Spain, when he’d gone into brothels to collect his wayward men, even after weeks or months without the tender company of a woman, he hadn’t been as carried away or tempted to forget himself in a señorita’s arms as he was in Miss Radcliff’s presence.
‘It’ll be the talk of the countryside for months. I might even be called to London by the Prince for a command performance.’ He sat down in the chair beside hers, kicking aside a bent tin crown to make room for his feet.
‘They’ll fill newspaper columns with details of your stunning performance.’ She shifted a touch on her chair, her back straightening as she tried to place some distance between them, reminding him of their potential audience.