Fortune's Bride

by Roberta Gellis

  “I’m sorry I hurt you, Merry,” he said desperately, just as her hand fell on the door latch.

  She stiffened, almost as if to withstand a physical blow, and the remainder of what Robert intended to say, assurances that he would be more gentle in the future, apologies for his drunkenness, died in his throat because she so quickly turned back toward him and smiled, although the expression was rather strained.

  “We haven’t time enough to talk now,” Esmeralda said rapidly. “Molly told me Lord Burghersh and some others were with you. You’ll have to find out whether they went back last night. If they didn’t, you might have to wake them. You’ll be late on duty, and Sir Arthur won’t like that.” She was not sure whether the stricken expression on his face was owing to his physical discomfort, to regret, or to her seeming rejection of his apology—and she was afraid to find out—but she could not bear it. “Don’t worry so, Robert,” she added softly, and then went out before he could speak.

  The gentle assurance almost brought tears to Robert’s eyes again, and he felt silly for being so emotional. Merry was just being herself. What the devil had ever possessed him to mention the possibility of an annulment back in Oporto? Why hadn’t he realized then how lovely she was and how perfect? And then his conscience lashed him. Did he have the right to ask Merry to follow the drum? But she seemed to love it. Or was that only another instance of her not making a fuss?

  Robert’s head whirled, and he knew he was too dizzy and too sick to think straight. And he had forgotten all about his convivial companions again. If they had been as drunk as he was, they would never have made it back to Cazal da Sprega. Besides, he seemed to remember someone saying they intended to return to the wine shop and finish the wine they had ordered. Oh God, they would be in prime and plummy order this morning!

  He looked with loathing at the liquid in the mug, but decided that despite the smell it could not make him feel worse, even if it were poison. Better if it was. If it killed him, at least his troubles would be over. Taking a deep breath, he gulped at it.

  Raw fire exploded in his mouth and throat as it went down, and the breath he had taken whooshed out of him in an anguished moan. He tensed, expecting a volcanic eruption from his stomach, but he really felt no urge to bring up the hot lava he had swallowed. There were certainly fireworks—Robert let out another huge breath almost expecting to see flames spew from his mouth—but the fireworks seemed to be beneficent. Sighing like a martyr, he closed his eyes and downed the rest of the fiery liquid.

  Meanwhile, with shaking hands Esmeralda gathered up fresh clothing for Robert, but she had difficulty fixing her mind to the task and ended up with four stockings, two pairs of smalls, two coats, and no shirt or breeches. She had to put everything down and begin again. It was ridiculous, she thought, that Robert’s bare body should have so violent an effect on her. She had seen him nearly naked before. It was true that the sight had always affected her, but the experience of making love had heightened her reaction to him almost unbearably. She had had a nearly irresistible impulse to touch him, to run her lips and tongue over him as he had run his over her And he had caught her looking at him twice! He would think her more abandoned than any light-skirt.

  And what had that apology meant? Was he sorry only about hurting her? If that were so, Esmeralda thought, she would have achieved a state close to heaven. She knew, however, that she had cut him off before he finished what he intended to say. Perhaps that had been wrong. Perhaps he would have said what she wanted to hear, but perhaps he would have said just the opposite. She had not dared take the chance.

  Poor Robert, he had looked so ghastly. It was obvious he could not think straight about anything. Later in the day he would feel better. He would have a chance to consider the ramifications of what he had done and also have a chance to adjust to the situation. After that, she would no longer be able to avoid talking to him about the future. That thought was so sobering that Esmeralda gathered up a full complement of clothing without any more romantic tremors.

  When she reentered the room Robert was still sitting on the bed, but she saw the mug was empty and that his complexion had lost its earlier green tinge. True, his eyes were tearing and he was breathing out as if he had eaten something too hot for comfort, but all in all he looked better. He held her gaze steadily only once. As soon as she blushed, hating herself for her inability to keep her color steady, he dropped his eyes.

  “I will come back as soon as I can,” he said. “I don’t think there will be any more action for a day or two, and I will ask to be excused from mess tonight.”

  “It will be pleasant to have dinner together,” Esmeralda ventured.

  “Merry—” he began, flashing a glance at her and then biting his lip. “No,” he went on, “you are quite right. We don’t have time to talk. Will you send Molly for Carlos, please? I left my horse at the wine shop last night, and I haven’t the faintest idea of how to get back there.”

  “I can send him to fetch the horse so you can rest a few minutes longer,” she suggested.

  Robert hesitated, then said no. He didn’t dare shake his head yet, although he did feel less as if it would fly off if he did. “The walk will do me good, I think. I just hope someone had sense enough to unsaddle Apollo and give him something to eat and drink.” He glanced up again fleetingly, flushed, and reached for the pile of clothing Esmeralda was still holding.

  Silently she gave it to him and fled, just barely biting back an offer to help him dress. Had the offer come to her mind out of kindness, she could have said the words. Unfortunately, Esmeralda knew her motives were not in the least of such purity as kindness. Her desire to help Robert dress had been born solely out of a most immodest lust, and she probably would have been more hindrance than help in getting his clothing on.

  It was dreadful. Esmeralda was well aware that she should be ashamed of such raw sensuality, but she was not. She had not run away to put temptation behind her but to prevent Robert from finding out what a coarse wretch she was. The fear drove her not only down the stairs but out of the house. Instead of sending Molly to wake Carlos, she went herself to the stable and shook the boy, telling him to go up to the bedchamber to help Captain Moreton dress if he needed help.

  Then sternly admonishing herself, Esmeralda went to the kitchen to tell Molly it was possible Robert would be back for dinner. They were talking about what to buy that could be cooked and then kept for a day or two without spoiling if he could not get leave after all, when his booted feet came down the stairs. Esmeralda dropped the spoon with which she had been fiddling and bent down to pick it up so that Molly could not see her face and so her flush would seem to have a natural cause. It was dreadful to blush every time she saw Robert or even expected to see him. Esmeralda wished miserably that she could stop.

  However, Robert did not come in. Although he felt a flicker of disappointment and worry when Esmeralda did not appear even briefly to say goodbye, he buried the emotions quickly under a determined effort to remember enough about the wine shop to permit Carlos to find it. Robert knew his physical condition was affecting both his emotions and his ability to reason, and he was resolved not to think about Merry until he felt human again.

  To his surprise, as soon as Carlos led him to the main street of the town, he recognized the wine shop. He had the devil of a time routing out his companions and bitterly regretted that he had not asked Molly to make a gallon of her volcanic restorative. It was not that he felt well, his head still pounded and occasionally his stomach made threatening noises, but he was at least ambulatory and did not have to lean off his horse every few minutes to vomit. Worse yet, the party that had remained in Óbidos was not in much better condition.

  Naturally, they were all late reporting to duty. Sir Arthur glared and spoke very coldly, but Robert, who was the only one in any state to notice, detected a definite twinkle in his eyes. Although he no longer indulged in such behavior, Robert was well aware that Sir Arthur had been there
before them. There were tales of bacchanals during the early years of Wellesley’s Indian service that made his ADCs’ celebration sound like a nursery tea.

  Sir Arthur might not have been quite as understanding if he had not had some good news just before his young gentlemen arrived. He had learned that General Acland’s brigade was offshore and General Anstruther’s was close behind, which meant four thousand men would be added to his force. This was of considerable importance, since he had reason to believe that the original estimates of the men available to Junot were too low. Better yet, both brigades could be put ashore at Porto Novo at the mouth of the little river Maceira only about ten miles south of where they were. To protect the landing, the army would take up a position on the heights east of the mouth of the river with headquarters in the largest village in the area, Vimeiro. With more than eighteen thousand troops, five thousand of which had proved themselves in action and all of whom were in high spirits, Sir Arthur felt his situation to be good.

  Some of the army was already in motion toward Vimeiro, but there was work enough for the ADCs in transmitting Sir Arthur’s commands to the remainder, making arrangements for the worst wounded who could not be moved and for those who could be shipped home in the emptied transports, plus seeing that the inexperienced commissary agents would have food and other necessities available, setting up quarters for staff and line officers who would need to be close to Sir Arthur—endless details. As the least disabled, Robert was busiest, but he found that he had lost his ability to concentrate his mind on military business to the exclusion of everything else.

  The first thing he did as soon as he understood the situation was to ask Sir Arthur’s permission to absent himself from the mess dinner that evening. The second was to find M’Guire, arrange the loan of a troop horse for him, and send him back to Caldas to see that Merry and the others followed the army to Vimeiro. The third was to make sure Fitzroy Somerset knew that Merry was on her way so that there would be quarters waiting for them. Then and only then did he set about the errand upon which Sir Arthur had sent him. True, there was no great urgency about the errand, but never before in his military life had Robert set a personal consideration before even the smallest duty. Now Robert understood very clearly why, aside from the hardships they must undergo, Sir Arthur was so antagonistic to the idea of wives accompanying their husbands into the field. And he also understood why some officers would ignore their commanders’ displeasure. Despite pricks from his conscience, which he soothed by reminding himself that he had several times urged Merry to go to England and it was she who had begged to remain in Portugal, he had not the slightest intention of parting with his wife unless danger threatened.

  Chapter Nineteen

  M’Guire arrived at Esmeralda’s lodging midmorning. Although Robert had described the place as best he could, it had taken M’Guire some time to find it, since he spoke no Portuguese. By then Esmeralda had finished the shopping and Molly had finished cleaning Robert’s clothes. Both Molly and Esmeralda asked eager questions concerning why they were going and where, but aside from the name of the place, M’Guire knew nothing. The captain, he said, had been in a tearing hurry and sharper tempered than usual. He had said no more than that they must catch up with the army and get to a village called Vimeiro.

  Esmeralda’s heart sank right down into her slippers, which she ran to change to riding boots, but really she was too busy to spend much time worrying. She had to pay for the lodging, write and send off a note to Dom Aleixo with thanks and farewells, help Molly pack, make sure M’Guire and Carlos did not load Luisa in such a way that fragile or perishable objects were under heavy ones, and see to it that nothing was left behind.

  It was not until they had passed Óbidos that she remembered the attack of the previous day. As it came into her mind, she also remembered that she had not yet confessed her spying to Robert, and she hesitated about confiding in M’Guire. Second thoughts convinced her that she must tell Robert for safety’s sake. Then she discovered that, despite Carlos’s limited English, he had already managed to communicate both to Molly and M’Guire the most exciting and important event that had taken place—at least, as far as he was concerned—since Robert had agreed he could accompany the British. M’Guire smiled shyly at Esmeralda and assured her that there was nothing to fear now. Troops had been out to sweep the area and to spread the word of the English victory. Any Frenchmen left behind had been happy to come out of hiding and go along with the English because they knew they would certainly be tortured and killed if they were found by the Portuguese.

  Whether or not M’Guire was right, no one interfered with their small party. They arrived quite safely in Vimeiro about five o’clock. They had traveled unusually quickly because Molly and M’Guire had taken turns riding the troop horse, with Carlos intermittently in front of them on the saddle bow. Thus, no one had to walk the whole twenty or so miles, and one rest period to allow the mule and horses to drink and Esmeralda to stretch her legs was sufficient.

  Although the whole area was a swarming mass of men and animals by the time Esmeralda and her party arrived, there was less actual confusion than there had been at Figueira. The largest house in the place had already been commandeered for Sir Arthur. Orderlies and ADCs came and went. Lord Fitzroy’s efficiency and attention to detail were already becoming a byword, and because he had been on duty the preceding night, he was not half dead like those who had accompanied Robert.

  M’Guire got the direction of Captain Moreton’s quarters, which were back-to-back with Sir Arthur’s, and in half an hour Molly and Esmeralda were hard at work. Molly started dinner while Esmeralda went up to look over their quarters, see whether they needed to be cleaned, and unpack necessary items. To her relief, the large room seemed to be in perfect order, and with great joy she saw there was a double bed. Holding her breath, she pulled back the covers to inspect the sheets. They were not fresh, but that did not matter. If there were no fresh sheets in the house, Esmeralda now had her own. What was important was that they were not all spotted with blood, which meant that the bed was probably not infested with fleas or bedbugs.

  To her greater joy, she discovered that the one room was all they had been allotted. Because Sir Arthur felt it was possible that the French would attempt to interfere with the landing and in any case that there might be renewed action at any time, he wanted his commanding line officers close by for planning. Their rank entitled them to spacious quarters, and room had to be available for their staffs also, thus, Sir Arthur’s ADCs were crammed in as tightly as possible.

  Esmeralda could not have been better pleased. Her one doubt was what to do about Robert’s cot. Not to set it up, she was afraid, would be too blatant an invitation; on the other hand, setting it up might be taken as a signal that she was unwilling to share her bed with him. Then she thought that it would sound reasonable if she said she considered it more important that M’Guire get Boa Viagem and Luisa fed, watered, and rubbed down than to be setting up a cot, which could be done later. And Molly had not really seen her husband for several days. Surely it would be a kindness to dismiss her to attend to him as soon as she had dinner at a stage where Esmeralda could watch over it.

  She sent M’Guire off with the animals at once and told him that he need not come back unless she sent a message with Carlos. Nor did it take long to get rid of Molly. Then she realized that, if she wanted privacy, they would have to eat in the bedchamber. What would Robert think of that? Would he accept the excuse that it was too hot in the kitchen? Would he notice at once that the extra cot was not set up? Should she change from her riding dress? Esmeralda hesitated, suddenly regretting that she had sent Molly away. If only she had not, she could have arranged to be half-undressed when Robert came up.

  The thought was so pleasant and had so insidiously slipped into her mind that Esmeralda was well on her way to devising another method of achieving the same purpose before she realized how shocking it was. And just as she became aware of how a
ppallingly immoral her true nature was, Robert appeared in the doorway. It was as if her guilty conscience had taken flesh to reprimand her. Esmeralda gasped and stepped back.

  “For God’s sake, Merry,” Robert said, “don’t be afraid of me.”

  “Oh, no,” she said breathlessly, “I’m not. Really, I’m not. I was only startled. I was thinking about something.”

  Those words were unwise because, of course, they brought what she had been thinking about clearly to mind and she blushed hotly. Robert was distressed. For the first time a horrible notion leapt into his head. Had he forced Merry? He remembered now that she had cried for help several times. Had she been screaming? It had sounded soft to him, ecstatic, but he had been so drunk! He stood staring at her, appalled.

  Frightened by his expression, Merry took a step forward. “What is it?” she cried. “Robert, what’s wrong?”

  “D-did I…? Merry…did I force you?”

  Of all the questions he could have asked, that was the most unwelcome, the most embarrassing, but Esmeralda knew she must answer. Yet if she said no, she was a whore, and if she said yes, Robert would never come near her again. Clearly stated in her mind, Esmeralda knew at once which was the more dreadful to her and cast her reputation to the wind without a second thought.

  “No,” she said firmly, and then, trying to salvage something, she added, “you are my husband, Robert. You have been so kind, have done so much for me. How could I refuse?”

  “That’s…” He tried to smile. “Well, I certainly am your husband now. Annulment’s out. Right?” The last words were uncertain.

  For a bare instant Esmeralda hesitated again. Then she said, “Yes, I agree.”

  She had tricked and manipulated her father for years without a single qualm of conscience, but to do it to Robert, who was himself so transparently honest, was horrible. With a few words, she could free him from a burden that he did not seem to welcome. But Esmeralda knew that those few words would be final. Robert would never think of making love to her again if he believed annulment was still possible, and that would cause so great a strain in their relationship as to make any continuance of it impossible. Not yet, she thought as she spoke. I can always offer him his freedom. I must try to make a complete marriage work first.