Valiant Soldier, Beautiful Enemy

by Diane Gaston

  “Who is it?” Gabe cried, but the man merely waved a frantic hand and pounded up the steps.

  Gabe tapped on the banister. So much for his wish to escape any company. He turned and made his way to the parlour door.

  Perhaps Allan Landon or Jack Vernon had called. That would be tolerable. He’d sent word to them of his return and had already met with them to fill them in on what had happened with Edwin.

  And Emmaline.

  As he turned the knob of the parlour door, he had the sensation of being pulled back in time. Entering, he dropped his hat on a table and thought of the day Emmaline had surprised him in this very room.

  Just as it had that day, the parlour looked empty. Fresh flowers adorned the mantel and the sound of a swishing skirt came from the high-backed chair facing the fireplace.

  Gabe froze.

  Emmaline stood before him. “Bon jour, Gabriel.”

  “Emmaline?” His voice was no more than a whisper.

  He’d never thought to see her beautiful face again, her fair skin and blue eyes and the lips he’d dreamed of kissing when sleep eluded him at night.

  He recovered himself. There was only one reason she would return here. “Is it Claude?”

  She blinked, as if confused, then met his gaze again. “Non. Non. Claude has not run away again. That is not why I am here.”

  “Why, then?” Whatever it was, he would help her again, he immediately resolved. He knew now that no other choice was possible for him. Let her ask a thousand times. He would always come to her aid.

  She glided towards him with that familiar grace. As she neared, the scent of lavender reached him. “I came to speak to you.”

  He cocked his head, more puzzled than ever. She did not seem as tense as she had been when she had stood in this same place before. Neither did she seem at ease.

  She glanced up at him. “A long time ago, I did not speak up when I should have. I had not the courage. It was a terrible mistake I made then. I made another one when we were together last, by not saying what I needed to say soon enough. You were gone before—” Her voice broke.

  She was troubled and he felt the pain of that as if it were his own pain. “What do you mean? Tell me. I will help you in any way I can.”

  She smiled and raised her hand to caress his cheek. “My cher capitaine.”

  He seized her hand, lifting it in a silent question about the gold band with its glittering sapphire that adorned her finger.

  “I used to wear it on a chain beneath my dress, Gabriel,” she whispered. “There has never been a day I did not wear your ring.”

  He dropped her hand, still puzzled.

  She lowered her hand and stepped back, but then looked as if she were steeling herself for combat. “I said I would marry you. I came to tell you that is what I want. I want to marry you.”

  His spirits dipped. This smacked of her self-sacrificing bargain again. “Emmaline, I already freed you of that obligation. I do not know how to make it clearer to you. I do not require you to marry me.”

  Her eyes widened. “You do not comprehend. I want to marry you, if—if you also desire it. That is what I travelled here to tell you. I do not want to be apart from you. I will follow you to wherever the army sends you. I do not care where it is as long as I can be with you.” She gripped his arm. “I came to say this to you. To make sure you know that I say this because I love you. I have loved you since Badajoz when you were so kind to us. I loved you in Brussels, but I was afraid. I am still afraid, but it frightens me more to be without you.”

  Gabe felt himself go warm all over, but he dampened his burgeoning hopes. “What of Claude? Surely he will not accept you marrying me.”

  Her eyes filled with sadness. “No, he will not. Claude said to me that he will never see me again as long as I am with you.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Then, it is no use. I will not be the cause of you losing your son.”

  Her fingers tightened on his arm. “You are not the cause. Nor am I. It is Claude who chooses it.”

  He looked down at her, seeing her suffering at her son’s declaration. He also saw something else.

  Her resolve.

  She went on, “You said yourself that Claude is a man now. He must make his decisions and live with them.” A ghost of a smile flitted across her face. “Besides, he said he would still write to me, so that is something. As long as I know he is well and seeking his own happiness instead of revenge, I am content. And who can say? Perhaps he will change his mind after a time.”

  Gabe’s hopes glimmered again. Dare he indulge them? “Are you certain, Emmaline? Are you certain you want to marry me?”

  “Mais oui,” she murmured. “More than anything.”

  He gathered her in his arms and held her close to him as if he feared loosening his grip would make her flutter away and he would lose her once again. “Emmaline. My love.”

  Her voice filled with emotion as he held her. “Gabriel, there is so much I cannot give to you. I cannot give you children. I have no dowry, nothing to bring to a marriage, except my promise to devote myself to you—”

  “It does not matter,” he reassured her. “We can be a family, just you and me. And I certainly do not need your money. I need you.”

  “Then I will go anywhere with you, Gabriel.” Her voice was firm. “Have you found a commission yet? Tell me where we will go next.”

  He released her and held her at arm’s length so he could look into her eyes. He laughed aloud. “I have no commission! Oh, Emmaline. I am not even in the army any more. I sold out completely. Do you mind returning to Lancashire? I have just today purchased the hill farm, the one my uncle manages. We will own the farm. I can take care of my uncle and all the other people whose livelihoods depended on it. We will make it prosper again. Together.”

  He drew her to him again, this time lowering his lips on to hers for a kiss that burst forth from the joy in his heart. Beneath the kiss she laughed with happiness, before pressing her lips to his as if never to release them.

  When they finally took a breath, Gabe twirled her around, laughing again. When he stopped he gazed at her as if to convince himself that she was real and that this was a dream come true.

  He remembered his first glimpse of her amidst the horror of Badajoz, when he’d been alone and her family had been violently torn apart. Something had changed in him that day at the mere sight of her. He was changed still.

  But now he understood. She was where he belonged, where he would always belong. He knew it deep in his soul.

  He belonged with Emmaline.

  He embraced her once more.

  They were both home at last.

  Epilogue

  London—November 1817

  It was a celebration dinner, but a quiet one. The recent death of Princess Charlotte in childbirth had the whole country in mourning, and London society remained swathed in black. Emmaline and Gabriel had just returned to London for a brief visit.

  Even the tragic death of the English princess could not mar the happiness that had built between them over the past two months. After a quiet and private wedding, Gabriel had taken Emmaline for a tour of the Lake District and then to Manchester to meet his parents, brothers, sisters and countless nieces and nephews. It seemed to Emmaline that she was accepted into Gabriel’s family as merely one of the crowd, which delighted her. After that visit, she and Gabriel had spent a few weeks at their new home, the hill farm which had been busy with the breeding season and Gabriel’s efforts to return it to its former productivity.

  Back in London for Gabriel to complete some business related to the farm, Allan and Marian Landon had insisted upon hosting a dinner to celebrate their marriage. Included as guests were Jack and Ariana Vernon.

  Both the Landons and Vernons greeted them as old friends, and Allan opened a bottle of French champagne and poured for everyone.

  He offered a toast. “To your happiness!”

  “To
us all,” Gabriel had countered, looking so handsome in his black coat, white linen and cream breeches that he took Emmaline’s breath away.

  As they all drank, Emmaline glanced around, remembering her anxiety the last time she had been in this room and her wonder at the willingness of these good people to help her find Claude, her surprise that they had all been connected by Badajoz.

  “Tell us about your wedding and your trip!” Ariana insisted. The actress looked even more beautiful than usual. Her August performance in David Garrick’s Katharine and Petruchio had been a great success, but now she was working on a different sort of production. Her second child.

  Emmaline allowed Gabriel to describe the wedding and the trip, adding only a few details he’d omitted. Like some of the wonderful things he’d done for her while they travelled.

  The Landons’ butler, a huge former soldier, appeared at the door. “Beg pardon,” he said.

  “What is it, Reilly?” Marian asked.

  He looked from Marian to her husband. “Lady Tranville is here. She wishes a moment to speak to you.”

  Lady Tranville? She was married to Edwin Tranville’s father. She was also Jack’s mother.

  “Have her come in.” Allan waved a welcoming hand. “She may meet our guests and say hello to her son and daughter-in-law.”

  Reilly’s expression turned firm. “You had best speak with her first.”

  With anxious looks, Allan and Marian excused themselves; Ariana attempted to dispel the aura of worry that had suddenly filled the room. “Proceed, please! Tell us all about your farm.”

  A few minutes later, a grim-faced Allan and a red-eyed Marian returned, accompanied by an older woman Emmaline presumed was Lady Tranville. Gabriel and Jack rose to their feet and Jack crossed the room. It was clear Lady Tranville had delivered some sort of dreadful news.

  “Hello, Mother.” He kissed her on the cheek and put an arm around her. “What has happened? Is it Lord Tranville?”

  She shook her head. “Edwin.”

  Emmaline’s heart rose into her throat.

  Allan quickly made introductions. “I told Lady Tranville that everyone here would wish to hear this news.” He held fast to his wife’s hand and looked from one to the other, his gaze resting on Emmaline. “Edwin Tranville is dead.”

  “Dead!” Gabriel cried.

  Emmaline felt afraid to breathe. “How?”

  Lady Tranville answered, “From a liver ailment. He has been ill for many weeks.” She patted her son’s arm and looked sympathetically at Marian, who had been Edwin’s cousin. “I did not wish to send a messenger. It is only a short walk.” She backed to the door. “But I really need to return to my husband. He is shattered, as you might imagine.” She glanced away. “He is sick with regrets.”

  After she left, Ariana crossed the room to Marian and embraced her. “How hard this must be for you.”

  Marian’s eyes filled with tears. “I did care about him. In spite of all the bad things he did to us and to everyone here.” She directed her gaze at Emmaline. “I knew him as a very sad little boy.”

  Allan guided Marian to a sofa. He sat beside her and she leaned against him.

  Jack surveyed them all, as if memorising the scene they presented. “He died of drink. That is what a liver ailment means, does it not?”

  They all seemed lost in their own thoughts.

  Gabriel glanced away. “He connected us. He and his father. We would not be here, together, if not for what Edwin did to Emmaline.” He shook his head and faced Allan and Marian. “Perhaps we should go.”

  Emmaline immediately stood. Emotions swirled inside her, none of them the sort of sadness one ought to feel at a man’s death. She was relieved that Edwin was dead. She was grateful that Claude had not killed him. Most of all she was still angry at all the suffering he’d caused. “Yes, we intrude.”

  Marian straightened. “No, do not leave. I will recover in a moment. Gabe is right. Edwin did connect us all, in a strange way. I want us to be together.”

  So they stayed and had a more subdued dinner than originally planned, even though they quickly changed the subject from Edwin and the past to all their plans for the future.

  It looked bright for all of them. Jack’s reputation and fortune as an artist was growing all the time, as was Ariana’s fame in the theatre. Allan and Marian were determined that Allan would win a seat in Parliament, and none of them doubted that he would indeed be successful. And there was Gabriel’s hill farm. His plan might be more modest, but it was dearest to her heart.

  Later, when Emmaline lay with Gabriel in the bed they shared in Grillon’s Hotel, Gabriel mentioned Edwin again. “Hearing of Edwin’s death must have affected you. Has it upset you?”

  She thought before answering. “I am not unaffected. I do not have any grief for him,” she admitted. “But if he died of drink, he killed himself, did he not? That seems a sort of justice. He destroyed himself as he tried to destroy us.”

  He nodded in understanding.

  She nestled beside him. “We are all of us alive and happy. The Landons. The Vernons. You and me. Maybe some day even Claude. We survived and Edwin did not.”

  Gabriel held her tighter. “One thing I know is he can no longer hurt you or Claude or anyone else. We can look to the future and know he will never appear in it.”

  She kissed him. “I treasure our future, Gabriel. I feel very lucky.”

  He returned her kiss and cradled her next to him. Warmed by his bare skin, she soon heard him slipping into sleep. As she also drifted off, Edwin appeared in her dream, fading like a fog when the sun begins to shine. Into the sunlight appeared Gabriel, smiling at her.

  Yes, she thought, waking again. She had found happiness. She was very, very lucky.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-1240-4

  VALIANT SOLDIER, BEAUTIFUL ENEMY

  Copyright © 2011 by Diane Perkins

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  *Three Soldiers