Stirling smiled, not in the least falling into the trap of acrimony. From Royce’s constant ramblings on about his sister-in-law, he had known what to expect.
He bowed. “I mean no disrespect and I am also not a tradesman. I only pulled rank with my junior officer because I wanted to have a dance with the most radiant woman in the room.” Seeing that his words were having no effect, he frowned. Standing next to Clementine, Royce had his eyes open as wide as saucers. He kept jerking with his head, like he was trying to tell his friend something.
Before Clementine could walk away, Stirling remembered something his brother officer had told him one evening in the officers’ mess. He adopted a serious mien.
“Dear Lady Delaney, it was not my intention to offend you. I must confess that it was your loveliness that forced me to engage in duplicitous conduct in order to obtain the next dance. However, my desire to tap the mind of such an accomplished lady…and a nurse, spurred my intent.”
“Now, why would that be of an interest to you, Major?” asked Clementine suspiciously.
“How else would I get to know one of the brave ladies who might be saving my life in the months to come. If I may say so, I admire your courage, Lady Delaney.”
Clementine pulled her eyebrows together and moved her mouth from side to side. She was not used to such men. Stirling was proving to be quite a revelation. “I thought that most men thought of women as mere vessels for breeding and maintaining a household. Are you trying to convince me otherwise, sir?”
“It may be so that many of my contemporaries are a tad archaic when it comes to a woman’s role in society. I believe there is nothing more alluring then to be in the presence of a lady who has something to say.”
“Even if that means her not agreeing with you?”
“Oh, yes. If one wants one’s words repeated to them…I suggest the purchase of a parrot would be more conducive to maintaining such a state.”
Clementine could not help herself from giggling. She studied the major some more to gage his sincerity. She knew of men’s proclivities to say whatever was needed in order to pull a woman’s drawers and bloomers off. Nodding, she decided that he was authentic and that he had meant what he had said.
“So, Your Ladyship, may I have the pleasure of the next dance. It would be a delicious delight to hear some more about the splendid work you are doing. Not to mention to have the honour of being in your company a little while longer,” said Stirling, bowing slightly.
She could not resist the innocent grin on his face that made her respond in kind. It was something she had never seen before on a man. Usually, men would act superior and condescending toward a woman. He was different. There was no hauteur or the telltale sign of seduction, just openness and a genuine desire to get to know her. She decided to agree to dance with him.
“Major, it would be a pleasure to dance with you. I also would like to get to know more about the man who has the ability to inveigle his way onto a list. It appears that you have a gift for the gentle art of subterfuge and the courage to admit that you have done it. Such men are rare.”
Stirling chuckled. “The right man is the one who seizes the moment…and this is a moment I would never pass up on. Shall we?” He held out his hand that Clementine took without any further hesitation.
While they walked away, Royce smiled. Elizabeth was going to be so pleased. He couldn’t wait to present her with the fortuitous news that her darling sister was not completely immune to male charm and grace.
“A gallop,” said Clementine once the orchestra started the tune.
“Well, I don’t gallop as well with ladies indoors,” said Stirling.
They laughed. “Such modesty, Major I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” said Clementine sweetly.
“How did you come to join the army, Stirling?” asked Clementine while they twirled over the parquetry dance floor.
For a heartbeat, Stirling was reminded of the shameful way in which he was gazetted into the 11th. The ignominy of it still burned fresh as if it were yesterday. He wasn’t sure whether he should tell Clementine the entire truth, but her trusting eyes and easy manner made up his mind for him. They continued to gallop with the other couples, as he thought of the best way to put thoughts to mouth. Stirling knew that he must look uneasy because Clementine started to speak again.
“Is something the matter, Major? I did not realize that the reason for joining up was such a contentious matter.”
“I entered the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst when I was twenty. After that I was soon commissioned as a lieutenant in the cavalry in India.” The words gushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. Stirling felt relief wash over him. It felt good to open up to the woman who captivated him so.
“Well, that is very impressive. I have never heard of a newly minted officer heading east so soon. Wouldn’t they usually spend some time in a regiment closer to home?”
Stirling smiled wanly as he directed Clementine a few more paces between a row of fellow dancers. “Yes, you are right of course. Generally, when a man joins up, he stays in England, but my father obtained the position in the governor’s guard for me.”
“Quite some father you’ve got there. May I ask who he is?” Clementine frowned when she saw him flinch.
“My father is the Duke of Kenbridge, My Lady.”
“I see, that is a very noble name, sir.”
Stirling laughed somewhat too loudly. “I suppose so.”
“And you don’t have a particularly good relationship with the duke, I assume. We don’t have to talk about it…”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I feel as if I could tell you anything, Clementine,” said Stirling, completely forgetting good etiquette.
Clementine smiled at him. “Does this mean that our courtship has begun? You did use my given name…that usually is the beginning of more informal relations.” She batted her eyelids at him in an attempt to make him feel more at ease.
“Oh, dear, I did not mean to be overly forward. I would have asked your father first, My Lady? Yet, that wouldn’t seem proper not knowing what your thoughts on the matter were. I suppose, I wanted to ask you first. I hope you don’t construe my conduct as impertinent.”
“No, not at all, Stirling…” Clementine tittered. It made her happy to call him that. “You have my permission to approach my dear papa, but don’t wait too long lest you have to write him from the Crimea.”
With a smile on his face Stirling nodded as they danced for a few more heartbeats without saying a word.
“You are the first man to ask me first. A trait I appreciate for it is not my father whom you will be courting but me.”
Clementine moved her head closer until her cheek brushed his. She nearly forgot what she wanted to say when his manly scent invaded her nostrils.
“I won’t tell anyone that we are already familiar with one another if you won’t.”
She spent a moment longer basking in his virile fragrance that consisted of hints of lemon and vetiver that was perfectly enmeshed with mannish musk.
Despite wanting to know more about Clementine, Stirling found himself opening up to her like he had done with no other person before. She was even easier to talk to than Royce. He told her about his time in India and the difficult relationship he had with his brothers and father.
He even spoke of the white feathers and how they were given to him. Not once did she balk when he mentioned the unsavoury manner in which Royce had discovered him in the squalid dwelling in east London. Stirling even mentioned the ridiculous black bottle affair a few nights ago. This made her angry.
Stirling’s telling was so fluid and Clementine was such a good listener that they managed to squeeze all of that information into the hopping dance. By the time the music stopped, she knew nearly as much about him as Royce did.
During the few steps off the floor, Clementine was speechless. She had never expected him to be such an open book. Here was a man that spoke the truth no matter the conse
quences – Major Stirling Whit Whittaker was a rare gem and she was going to keep him. What had her sister said during afternoon tea: “Clementine, you should dig your talons into him before another woman does.”
Even despite Stirling’s brief tenancy in the insalubrious parts of London, Clementine was impressed by his military career and ability to bounce back from a low point. The feathers did not bother her either. To her surprise, she felt protective of him and wanted nothing more than to tell his father and brothers what she thought of them. It amazed her how family could be so spiteful and cruel.
Clementine thought that the dance had ended far too soon as they walked off the dance floor.
“I am afraid we spent the entire time talking about me,” said Stirling. “I am such a bore.”
“Not at all. I really enjoyed listening to you.” She grinned. “It also gives us the opportunity to arrange another meeting for you to get to know me better.”
Stirling smiled back at her.
Still engaged in conversation, Clementine and Stirling walked back to join Royce who was standing next to Lord Cardigan. Clementine stopped in her tracks. Stirling looked at her quizzically. Clementine had no desire to be in the man’s presence again. Already, the sight of his arrogant and flushed face irritated her. Judging by the way he slurred lightly, he had obviously consumed one glass of champagne too many.
“Ah, the filly from Kent,” said Cardigan rudely. He made no effort to acknowledge Stirling whom he treated with his customary disdain for people who did not agree with him. Clementine did not react to the slight. “I see you couldn’t resist the charms of one of my most talented officers,” continued Cardigan knowingly.
“Clementine is truly an exceptional dancer, My Lord,” said Stirling acerbically. The affair during the mess dinner still rankled him.
“Let’s hope she dances so enthusiastically in the bedchamber as well as she gallops across the dance floor,” grunted Cardigan.
“You, My Lord, should get better acquainted with the various beverages. I hear that you mistook a bottle of wine for a black bottle of porter. But don’t despair, many a novice would have made the same mistake,” hissed Clementine.
Cardigan cleared his throat bronchially. “A gentleman knows to decant his wine. My mess is not an alehouse in Saint Giles, woman. I think it best you refrain from attempting to correct your betters and remain what you are – a woman whose place is by the hearth with her offspring.” His gaze shifted snootily to Stirling for a split-second before ignoring his presence, preferring to scan the ballroom.
Clementine could’ve smacked him. As if he’d noticed the tension in her arm, Stirling restrained her. Clementine looked up at the man whom she had started to respect. As if she’d known him her entire life, she immediately understood his gaze. It was savage like that of a tiger. His green eyes bored into the unsuspecting earl.
Suddenly, Clementine was afraid for Stirling. He couldn’t possibly challenge his commanding officer? It would mean the end of his military career. She had to do something so that Stirling would save face, and at the same time not insult Cardigan.
“Is that all women are good for, My Lord? It appears that you are the same veritable bore in the flesh as the newspapers suggest,” said Florence Nightingale, coming to their rescue.
“That black bottle affair The Times reported about is absolutely ridiculous. You, sir, are nothing but excrement stuffed into a silk stocking. To think that the likes of you will be leading our brave young men to war is truly worrying.”
She pursed her lips into a thin line. “If you are not acquainted with the historical facts, that’s how Napoleon Bonaparte referred to Maurice de Talleyrand, his foreign minister.”
Cardigan’s entire frame shuddered as he cleared his throat, forcing down the tirade that threatened to burst from his person. Nightingale looked at Stirling with a withering glower as she shook her head. He wanted to protest, but Clementine, in support of her superior, squeezed his arm with force, inducing him to relent in the face of two such formidable women.
“And who might you be, Woman?” asked Cardigan insolently.
“Miss Florence Nightingale,” she said indicating with her head to Clementine that it was time to go.
Clementine could’ve kissed her. In the blink of an eye, and at exactly the right moment, she had saved Stirling from the ignoble fate of a court marshal. She dreaded to think what Cardigan would’ve done had Stirling demanded satisfaction or even worse punched him there and then. At the same time, Clementine loved him even more for nearly doing it. However, what made him even more endearing was his ability to listen to two women.
“Hah, the nurse that is to join the army in the Crimea. It’s a bloody ridiculous idea. Women have no place in the theatre of war; they belong at home,” said Cardigan somewhat too loudly.
Nightingale couldn’t resist it. The temptation was just too great. She hated and despised men like Cardigan. It was because of ignorant fools like him society remained in the backward state that it was.
“You mean women belong in the kitchen and behind the stoves. You are of the opinion, women should be spared from all things ugly and only devote themselves to all things pretty. Such as buttercups and dandelions in a spring paddock. You would claim that a woman has neither the stomach nor the intellect to handle a life of service for their country. Best keep women at home warming their husbands’ beds,” said Nightingale forcefully.
“Exactly, you have the gist of it. You’re smarter than you look, Nightingale,” said Cardigan happily, taking a glass of champagne from one of the waiters. He immediately started to slurp the beverage.
An evil smile crossed Nightingale’s face. “May I remind you - you arrogant baboon - that the Queen of England is a woman? She is the symbol of this nation, and my nurses and I will emulate her majesty’s exemplary female virtue and dedication to her country. You, My Lord are nothing but an ignorant brute that has the manners of an ape. Champagne is a too fine a beverage for you, My Lord. I suggest porter from a black bottle to quench your thirst. And even that is too good for you.”
Nightingale turned away from his Lordship without waiting for his reply.
“Come along Miss Delaney. Say goodbye to your charming dance partner; tis time for us to leave. The stench of unwarranted superciliousness and ignorance is starting to become quite unbearable,” said Nightingale brushing past Lord Cardigan proudly.
“What a woman,” said Royce in awe.
Cardigan arched his eyebrows. “That’s not how I’d put it, Major.”
Stirling wanted to say something but Royce shook his head pleadingly. Taking a deep breath, Stirling instead watched Clementine move towards the exit in her light-coloured gown with a tasteful décolleté that revealed her shoulders and arms. In one of her long-gloved hands she carried a fan made from ivory and mother-of-pearl. She was absolutely perfect, thought Stirling.
Chapter 14
The following morning Lord Cardigan stalked into the officers’ recreation room. It was a comfortable place with shelves full of leather-bound books on the back wall. A large hearth stood at the other end. In between, many dark wooden tables bedecked the parquet floor where the men played cards or exchanged words. The atmosphere exuded idle harmony and hearty banter between the men. It was where they congregated for talk, play, reading, games and indolent boasting.
After picking up a newspaper, Lord Cardigan sat down in a winged leather chair in the centre of the room. His adjutant stood next to him and exchanged a few nods with his superior. He cleared his throat loudly, as he focused his gaze on Stirling who sat with Royce at a table facing the window. As he started to speak, the two friends looked at one another. They instinctively knew what was to come.
“Now then, as spokesman of the officers’ committee, what Lord Cardigan would have me say is you, Major Whit Whittaker, are guilty of disorderly conduct in the mess hall. And what you should consider in the future is that comportment in the mess should be conducted like a gentlemen’s
table - not a common ale house with black bottles.”
Stirling eyed the stuffed-up aide-de-camp with the bushy blond hair on his head and down the sides of his face closely. He took no notice of the other officers staring at him from all corners of the room. “That is an offensive thing to say, to have said, one officer to another, in front of brother officers.”
The unmistakable rumble of Lord Cardigan’s voice took over. “Do you not know that unlike a farmer, a gentleman decants his Moselle? – You do not drink it like beer, sir. If you cannot behave like a gentleman then you are to leave the regiment.”
“Will you shake hands with me, sir?” asked the adjutant, moving forward a few steps.
Diaries of a Heartbroken Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 41