Anne’s answer was to rest her head against his chest, her hot tears staining his uniform. She closed her eyes. She could feel the rapid pulsing of his heart. They stood in silence, not moving. Not speaking. He laced his fingers through hers once more and squeezed them briefly before he released her.
She heard the key turn in the lock. Then he was gone. The door closed softly, but with an air of finality. Anne stifled a sob. William is not to be my chance for love. That chance blew away when I accepted Albert’s proposal. And now I am undeniably alone. Forever . . .
Anne crumbled onto the ottoman and remained there until later Bridget found her and ushered her back to her suite. Lord Westmeare looked up from the card table in time to see Captain Ferguson, shako under his arm, stride out of the hall. News reached the ear of Lord Westmeare that his wife was indisposed and had retired for the night.
A sly smile touched the lips of the Viscount as he busied his thumbs over his fingers.
Chapter 48
August 1813
Calcutta, India
The day after the ball, Lord Westmeare ordered Captain Ferguson to report to his office. The same thin, nervous lieutenant ushered William into Westmeare’s presence.
“Ah, Captain. How good of you to come. I will not delay. I have something of special importance I wish to share with you. It touches most delicately on my wife. Please sit.”
A combination of curiosity and concern compelled William to sit. It did not take long for Westmeare to state his desires. When the colonel completed outlining his proposal, William glared at the man, his mouth twisted in grim disbelief, his body rigid. A black desire rose in him to smash the viscount’s face. But somehow William subdued that urge.
“You understand that this proposal is most confidential. No one. And certainly not my wife . . . Is to know of this until you are successful.”
Through tight, yet guilty lips William said, “Lord Westmeare, ye are joined to her and she to you under God. It is not my business to interfere.”
“Really, Captain, that is all twaddle and nonsense.” Lord Westmeare paced in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. “I must have an heir and Anne must provide it. Or else. If you feel that you can accomplish the task, then it will be well for us all.”
“Or else? What are ye suggesting, milord? That your wife’s virtue is for sale?”
“I don’t really concern myself with her virtue . . . Only her body. She is very lovely, is she not? I have seen how you look at my wife, Captain. And how she returns that gaze. It should not be too odious a burden for you to seduce her and get her with child.” Westmeare narrowed his eyes and frowned while William sat mutely, digesting the viscount’s every word.
“And,” Lord Westmeare continued, “of course, if you are successful, Captain, you will be richly rewarded.”
Silence descended over the room. Neither man spoke. The only sound was the ticking of the longcase clock across from the fireplace. After a few moments, William shot out of his chair, causing it to crash onto the wooden floor. “I have never heard anything so preposterous and so insulting to a woman,” William hissed. “As her husband, it is your duty to protect your wife. Ye canna be serious.”
Westmeare retreated behind his desk. “Really, Captain. There is no need for such excitement,” stated the viscount, spreading his fingers over the smooth mahogany surface. “I-I assure you that I am most serious. You are an ideal choice. You are handsome and intelligent. Qualities that I wish my heir to possess. And I am certain that my wife finds you appealing, Captain Ferguson. I observed your mutual attraction at the fête at Addiscombe.” He paused. “And last night at the Ball. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.”
He managed a small, tight smile. “And she willingly accompanied you on a picnic soiree at Hartwood. Alone I might add. For all I know you may already have seduced her.”
“That is preposterous,” William thundered. “Why can ye not accomplish this deed yourself?” William knew that some men preferred the company of other men to that of women. Could this be the issue with Westmeare?
Westmeare ignored his outburst and his question. “Once my wife is proven to be with child, you will receive half of your reward. Once the child is safely delivered, I will send you the other half of the money.”
“Ye need a male heir, Lord Westmeare. What if the child is a lass?”
Viscount Westmeare raised his eyes and held William’s gaze. “You will simply try again. And if you are not willing to accomplish the deed, then I will find another chap who will.”
William turned and strode across the room and stopped at the locked door. A tightness spread in his chest. He clenched and unclenched his fists, desiring more than anything to place one of those fists firmly into Westmeare’s simpering face.
Westmeare tiptoed over, produced the key, unlocked the door, and again fled back to his desk. “Remember, Captain. Lady Anne’s fate is in your hands.”
William glared at the viscount, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to strike. A sudden curiosity forced him to speak, his voice cold and harsh. “Tell me, Lord Westmeare. Just what is an heir worth?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
William yanked open the door and burst into the outer office, startling the thin lieutenant. He marched into the hallway, his thoughts in chaos. Poor Anne. She does not deserve such a husband. This Westmeare was a degenerate idiot. William knew that he must get his orders changed and soon. He could not stay in India for long. He had to leave. General Arthur Wellesley, Lord Wellington, was still fighting in Spain. He would write to his former commander and request a transfer. After his previous service to Wellington in Ireland and again on the Peninsula, William believed that the general would be pleased to grant his request.
As William hastened down the hall, his thoughts continued to churn. He simply could not believe what he had just been offered. In frustration, he raked his hands through his hair.
Westmeare was insane. And what about poor Anne? Did she know of her husband’s contemptible plans for her? Westmeare implied that she did not. Practically selling her virtue! William considered that the strong-minded Lady Anne might not be so easy to seduce. She had proven that already. And what gentleman would agree to such a debauched proposal?
He paused on the landing to gather his wits. He laughed ruefully to himself. William knew that plenty of men would readily agree to Westmeare’s corrupt proposal to seduce the so verra lovely Lady Anne Westmeare. Oh, aye. There would be many men who held their honor cheaply and their pleasure more. Not to mention the monetary reward. Ten thousand pounds.
Och! Unbelievable! William took a deep breath and clenched his jaw.
His duty, as he now saw it, would be to safeguard Lady Anne’s virtue from her husband’s vile scheme. He released his breath slowly. Nae. Wellington would not be receiving his request for a transfer. William must stay in India.
He loved Anne and he felt compelled to protect her. He could only do that if he remained near her. Westmeare be damned!
Chapter 49
September 1813
Fort Paanchdurga, India
The return journey to the fort dragged on for seven long, tedious days with William and his soldiers leading the convoy. He would stop at least once a day to see if Lady Anne and the other women were comfortable. He was formal. He was reserved. He never allowed his eyes to meet hers.
Once they returned, post life took on its regular rhythm. William tried to maintain a reserved distance from Lady Anne, all the while, keeping an attentive eye on her movements.
The troops exercised and practiced their martial arts in the morning. Afternoons, when the heat intensified, were devoted to card playing, cleaning weapons, or even catching naps. The cavalry rode out on patrol sometimes for just one day. Sometimes the troop stayed away for weeks. W
illiam always took the lead, sitting astride a fine horse.
Anne watched the troop depart from her veranda, hands folded in prayer for William’s safety and that of his men. Sergeant Crocker almost always accompanied him. Anne trusted Tom Crocker. He was solid and dependable and she had soon discerned that he was William’s best friend.
The patrols always returned covered in dust or mud depending on the weather. Skirmishes became more frequent and some troops arrived covered in blood. Anne worked with other women to nurse the sick and wounded men. Doctor Campbell appreciated and encouraged Anne’s assistance. She spent many hours in the surgery rolling bandages or keeping the equipment clean or tending any injured or sick soldier who staggered into the infirmary, seeking relief.
One afternoon, five weeks after their return from Calcutta, Anne was again working at the hospital. After taking her weekly inventory of the medicine cabinet, she turned her attention to the bandages and instruments. They were not expecting any injuries today, but she liked to be prepared.
“Ye have a natural healing touch, my lady,” Dr. Campbell said, looking over her well-organized supply tray.
“Well, with four siblings—all having had numerous illnesses and the odd broken bones, especially the boys—I have had much experience!” She laughed. “Fortunately, none of them died of their ailments or accidents. In fact, I had a broken arm once myself.”
“Really, milady?” Zilphia Crocker, who also worked regularly in the infirmary, exclaimed. “How did that happen?”
“I fell out of a tree in the apple orchard behind the vicarage. My twin brother Randall had challenged me to a race. I beat him to the top even with a skirt and petticoats. But then I lost my balance and fell to the ground. I believe that I bounced off a few branches on my way down.”
“Well, I suppose they broke your fall, or ye might have been more seriously hurt, perhaps even acquiring a head injury,” Dr. Campbell said.
“I guess you are right, Doctor!” Anne laughed again with the others. It felt good to laugh and shake off, at least temporarily, the sadness that had enveloped her and refused to release her. She had not had occasion to laugh or even smile much since the ball in Calcutta when she had danced with . . .
“Is something amiss with thee, my lady?” Zilphia asked. “All of a sudden, thy face clouded over. Art thee feeling unwell?”
Anne looked at her perplexed. “No. I am feeling fine.” Just memories from a happier time, she thought as she looked away, unwilling to allow Zilphia to see her true feelings.
Mrs. Crocker, a quite perceptive woman, gazed at Lady Anne’s narrow waist and flat stomach and shook her head slightly. Anne saw her look. Does Zilphia wonder if I am with child? Perhaps everyone wonders when that will occur.
Reflexively, she placed her hand across her abdomen as if to protect . . . What? There was no babe there.
But that is not why I am so melancholy. Her momentary gaiety quickly dissipated to be replaced by a sadness that burrowed into her soul and refused to be dislodged. She turned away from Zilphia and Dr. Campbell, her eyes closed against her misery. With her head down and vision dimmed, she collided into a soldier who had quietly entered the surgery.
Captain Ferguson blocked her movement as he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Ah, Lady Westmeare, Mrs. Crocker, and Dr. Campbell—just the persons I needed to see.”
Anne felt her cheeks color. She had not seen much of William since their return from Calcutta. In fact he seemed to be avoiding her. Then she saw the bloodstains on his jacket. “Captain! What happened? Doctor, come quickly!”
William grimaced at her confusion and embarrassment. “’Tis just a scratch, but a damn bloody one. Oh, pardon me, ladies. But it is just a flesh wound from a bullet.”
“A bullet!” Anne exclaimed. “You were fired upon? What happened?”
“Captain Ferguson, was anyone else hurt?” Zilphia shot an anxious glance at the door as the medical officer led his patient further into the room.
“No,” William said. “I seem to be the only one. We had no problems for most of the patrol. Then we were surprised by a small group of bandits . . . local thugs really, but they were verra well-armed. We managed to drive them away, but their attack came as a nasty shock.”
Zilphia deserted the surgery, seeking to assure herself that there were indeed no other injuries either among her husband or the other men. The doctor instructed William to remove his jacket and cotton shirt as he indicated that he should climb up onto the surgical table.
Anne stayed behind and watched as Dr. Campbell examined William’s wound. She had seen worse injuries, but this one certainly did bleed profusely. The doctor probed the injury, digging deeply into his flesh. “Sometimes the paper from the bullet casings lodges in the wound and festers,” Dr. Campbell explained. “I am sorry to cause ye any pain, Captain Ferguson, but we must be certain.”
Anne half closed her eyes, praying that the agonizing ordeal would soon be over. She could see William tense, but he bore the pain in silence, while watching the doctor’s every move. When he completed his probe, Anne let out her breath in a rush, not even realizing she had been holding it.
“Ye will be all right, Captain. The worst is over,” the doctor said as he began to cleanse and dress the wound. “But do not attempt anything too strenuous for a few days. I am placing ye on temporary medical leave.”
“Medical leave,” William protested. “That is absurd, Doctor! It is just a simple flesh wound!”
“There is no such thing as a simple flesh wound, Captain. Medical leave is an order. We must be careful. We need every officer we have. If anything happened to ye, we would be in dire straits.”
Turning to Anne, the doctor said, “My Lady, will ye stay with Captain Ferguson? I do want to check and ascertain that no one else was hurt. I will be right back. Make certain that the good captain stays seated. Sometimes men lose more blood than they know. They get light-headed and simply pass out.”
Then he was gone. Leaving William and Anne alone.
Chapter 50
Moving over to the table, Anne took up the doctor’s tools and prepared to clean them, placing the tweezers and scissors into water to be boiled later. Then she busied herself rolling new bandages. She restrained herself from looking at William. The doctor had removed William’s jacket and his cotton shirt, and now that the imminent danger had passed, she was suddenly aware of his most masculine attributes, his broad shoulders, his well-muscled arms, the curling golden hair that dusted his chest. She felt herself blushing and was appalled with her reaction. To her extreme dismay, William turned and saw her gaze and her blush.
“Ye have a most sweet and rosy countenance, milady,” he said, lightly mocking Anne’s consternation. “Perhaps my lady has never seen a man without his shirt before.”
“I have two brothers. Of course I have seen such before,” she responded, perhaps a bit too quickly.
“And your husband as well, of course?” he asked.
“My husband?” Anne could not find the voice to say more and looked away.
William kept his gaze steady, but he changed the subject, sensing her discomfort. If Westmeare were to be believed, then Lady Anne probably had no such experience with her husband. “Ye seem to have made a home for yourself here in this godforsaken place, milady. I have observed your kindnesses to the officers’ wives and also the soldiers’ women. Especially, the children. Ye seem to have a special way with children.” He did not say her name, “Anne.” Yet, she heard him utter it, softly, tenderly.
After a moment of silence, she finally looked up at him. “Are you going to faint?” she asked.
“Nae!” He laughed. And his laughter drew a smile to her own lips.
“I am sorry, milady, if my presence here makes ye uncomfortable.” His voice softened into a Gaelic parlance. He sighed an
d then said, “I am here and that is that. We will encounter each other often. ’Tis inevitable. It canna be helped.”
“I can bear it.” She spoke faintly, keeping her eyes down.
“Until I am reassigned, I will remain at Paanchdurga.”
She glanced up from the bandages. “Reassigned? You are leaving? But why? Where will you go?”
“Given time, a reassignment is inevitable.” He paused and gazed fully into her face. “Why, Lady Anne, will ye miss me?”
Ignoring his unstated meaning, she exclaimed, “Why, Captain, I will miss my baritone in the church choir.”
“Is that all?” William asked as a sad smile touched his lips.
“Why are you leaving?” she repeated. “Where would you go? Men die in Spain. Probably in America, too.”
“Aye, men die in India as well. That is the nature of war.”
Before she could say more, the doctor returned. He checked the dressing and announced William fit to return to his bungalow.
“Here, allow Lady Westmeare to help you on with your shirt. Keep that wound clean, Captain,” the doctor called over his shoulder as he hastened from the room. Anne stepped forward to draw William’s shirtsleeve over his wounded arm before assisting with the other. His skin felt warm and smooth. She uttered an involuntary sigh as she touched him, drawing her hand gently along his shoulder. As she did so, Anne felt a quiver pass through her patient.
Anne tried but could not resist looking into William’s deep-set eyes, eyes that whispered of a tenderness so profound that she felt her heart fray and fracture at its edges. She was confused and embarrassed as much as she was drawn to him. In one swift movement, William pulled his cotton shirt over his head and moved his hands to encircle her waist, drawing her between his knees that tightened as he crossed his ankles, pinning her against him.
The Lady's Desire Page 17