You Never Forget Your First Earl

by Ella Quinn

  “I’m not sure yet, but I think we will. Unless the king comes to Brussels, that is.” Setting down his wine, he took her hands in his. “Do you mind all this uncertainty?”

  “Not at all.” Or only a little, but not enough to matter. “I have informed our senior staff that they must be ready to depart at any time.”

  For the second time that day, he pulled her into his arms, and she forgot she was supposed to be cold to him. “You are the best wife a man could have.”

  Elizabeth’s heart swelled with joy, but her head was less sanguine. What did that mean to him? She had been so sure he’d begun to love her before she was afraid to trust herself now.

  Unable to stop herself, she put her arms around him.

  Drat the man.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Geoff dressed quickly and opened the door to Elizabeth’s room. The curtains were still drawn and she was sleeping soundly. He considered waking her, but satisfied himself with kissing her lightly on her lips. She stirred for a moment, and he waited, but it came to nothing when she rolled over.

  Soon she’d be back in his bed where she belonged.

  Last evening, he was certain she had almost forgiven him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t pursue the matter now.

  He left the house, and as he turned onto rue Royal he was met by the sight of bloodied soldiers straggling back from the battlefield. He did what he could to help a few of the men, but he had to get to Sir Charles.

  Dragging a hand down his face, Geoffrey’s mind slipped to Elizabeth; she was never far from his thoughts. He had no doubt once his wife was up and about, she would be aiding wherever she could. Mayhap he should send a note telling her to remain in the house.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw a lady kneeling to give water to one of the soldiers and knew he’d not be able to stop his wife from giving succor to those who needed it.

  When he arrived at work he was informed that Wellington had sent a dispatch to Sir Charles that had arrived shortly after seven that morning providing an account of the battle and stating that the allies still held their ground.

  “The next few days will tell,” Sir Charles said ominously. “Stand ready to remove from Brussels at a moment’s notice.”

  “My wife has already given our servants that exact same order.” Geoff was more than grateful that Elizabeth had their household firmly in hand.

  “Remarkable young lady you married, Harrington. I congratulate you for having such good sense.”

  “Thank you, sir. I agree she is extraordinary.” He glanced around for something to keep him occupied, but he wasn’t sure what he should be doing. Since Geoff arrived, everything had been in such turmoil. “I await your instructions, sir.”

  Sir Charles’s remarks about Elizabeth reminded Geoff of what his father had said just before he and she left to come here. He hadn’t thought to tell his father that he had come to care for her deeply. He cared for her even more now but had no words to define what he felt for her. All he knew was that he wanted to follow the path they were on to see where it would lead.

  “Instructions?” Sir Charles gave a gruff snort. “I am instructed to keep the English calm. Wellington doesn’t want everyone panicking.”

  “From what I’ve seen,” Geoff retorted, “our ladies have been damn phlegmatic. Yesterday my wife was cutting linen for bandages, and I’d wager that as soon as she sees the carnage in the streets, she’ll be out there doing her bit in any way she is able.”

  “I did not want my lady wife here, but I understand what it’s like not to want to be separated.” Sir Charles stared out the window for several seconds. “Harrington, if the impossible occurs and the French start marching this way, send her to Antwerp straightaway. Don’t even think of doing anything else. In any war, the women always get the worst of it.”

  A feeling of dread rose in Geoff and for several moments he couldn’t breathe. Nothing could happen to Elizabeth.

  He still refused to believe Wellington would lose, but if it did happen, the only thing on his mind would be to safeguard his wife. Geoff would not and could not allow her to be harmed. “She will be ready, sir.”

  “Good man. Take care of your own. That’s all we can do.”

  The rest of the day was spent waiting for dispatches and assuring their anxious fellow countrymen that all was proceeding as planned. They received a report about a group of Flemish cavalry riding through Brussels creating havoc and shouting that the French were on their heels.

  It turned out to be no such thing, but once again, English gentlemen besieged their office wanting to know if they should take their families and flee.

  By the time Geoff left for the day and was trudging up the rue Royale, he’d had his fill of comforting panicked gentlemen.

  Up ahead his wife was kneeling in the road giving a wounded soldier a drink of something from a flask. The man had a fresh bandage around his head, and his arm was in a sling.

  Elizabeth’s gown was dirty with streaks of blood on her skirts and bodice. Her face was drawn, her hair escaped every way it could from under her bonnet, but her chin had a mulish cast, and she was scowling at a gentleman standing on the pavement.

  He had no doubt she was arguing with the man, refusing to leave until the soldier was taken somewhere he could be cared for. Vickers, looking worse for wear herself, strode toward Elizabeth, leading a local woman to the soldier. When the woman saw the soldier she kneeled down and motioned to a young man following behind.

  By this time Geoff was close enough to make out what the woman was saying.

  “He lives with us.” To the young man she said, “Go quickly and fetch the cart. The sergeant must be put in bed and the doctor sent for.”

  “I can walk, madam,” the soldier insisted. “Just need some help.”

  “Thank you, milady,” the Belgian woman curtseyed. “We will take care of him.”

  The English gentleman shrugged and walked away.

  Geoff helped Elizabeth to her feet, and put his arm around her waist. “Are you all right? When was the last time you ate?”

  He started walking with her the rest of the way to their house. “Yes,” she replied rather distractedly. “I knew it would be horrible, I just did not realize how dreadful the reality would be.” Attempting to tuck her hair back under her hat, she laughed rather distractedly. “Did that make any sense at all?”

  By Jove’s beard, she humbled him. All he had been doing that day was reassuring people, and he’d been bloody tired of that. She had been bandaging gaping wounds and finding the Bruxellois who had housed the injured.

  A sudden need to tend to her himself came over him. He didn’t understand the compulsion, but there it was. “You could not have been other than shocked at such carnage and waste of life.”

  By the time they had walked the few blocks to their house her head lay against his shoulder.

  When they entered the hall, Vickers began giving orders for a bath to be filled for Elizabeth. Geoff made sure the maid ordered one for herself as well.

  It would be ironic if this war brought them back to each other. Yet strangely, that was exactly what seemed to be occurring. At least from his point of view.

  Geoff had never really looked beyond her qualifications as his wife and having a comfortable marriage. It never occurred to him that he would worry about her.

  Later that evening as he held her in his arms, Elizabeth lifted her head up and kissed him. Geoff was so shocked, he almost forgot to return the gesture. The kiss was warm and sweet, and full of a longing stronger than he had ever experienced before.

  “Take me to bed.” She kissed him again.

  “Yours or mine?” he asked, wanting to be absolutely positive about what she wished.

  “Your bed.” Her voice was firm.

  “Are you sure?” He still had no idea what had happened between them and was afraid she would regret their coupling.

  She stared up at him, her blue eyes searching his. “Absolutely sure.”


  Geoff carried her up to his bedchamber. They undressed each other slowly, kissing and tasting as each piece of clothing was removed. This had none of the frantic mating they’d engaged in before, but was all the more poignant for not being rushed and so filled with lust they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  Elizabeth cried out as she came, bringing him with her. Afterward, she lay in his arms not speaking. Then again, she never needed conversation after they had coupled.

  Yet, for some reason he refused to study, he did. “Why now when you have put us off for so long?”

  She rolled over, propping herself on his chest and meeting his gaze. “I heard what your father said to you the day before we left Town. Congratulating you on getting me to the altar. About how qualified I was to be your wife.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “And I heard your answers. They cut me to the quick. I realized then that, although I had fallen in love with you, you didn’t love me.” Her eyes darkened. “I was resolved not to share your bed until you loved me, too. Yet, after what I have seen in the past day . . . The anguish of the injured and dying, the women who lost their husbands and sons”—tears shone in her eyes and he didn’t know what to do to comfort her—“I—I could not remain apart from you any longer. It doesn’t matter that you do not love me. What matters is that I love you. And if anything was to happen to you, and I had not told you how I feel, I would always regret it.”

  She patted his chest, rolled over, and dropped off into a deep sleep. Leaving him with more questions than he had ever had in his life.

  All this time he had thought she was angry with him because he’d gone out without telling her where he was or when he’d return. He’d had no idea she was in love with him. If what she felt was love—and he had no reason to doubt her—this was not the type of love he’d seen his friends go through. Full of jealousy, and arguments, and then passionate making up in a repetitive cycle until the passion and joy were no longer there.

  Had they been wrong about what love was? Had he? And if so, if what Elizabeth felt for him, a steady companionship, filled with small joys, and earnest discussion on how to make their lives together a home, was real love, then what was he feeling?

  If she had made love to him, did that not mean he’d made love to her as well?

  Geoff had been so careful not to use the word love in anything they did. But, perhaps he had been wrong. Had he purposefully ignored the vow of love he’d made during their wedding?

  The question was how would he know if he was in love?

  * * *

  The next afternoon it rained.

  Geoff reported to Sir Charles that morning to discover the allies had held their ground through the night. He continued to meet and attempt to calm his fellow countrymen. And every time he wanted to tell them to stop acting like children, he reminded himself of what his wife was likely to be up to. He’d rather be with her.

  That afternoon when a great crack of lightning followed by thunder rent the air, and the heavens opened up to pour down buckets of water on the city, everyone around him started to laugh.

  “I feel like a fool, but what is so bloody funny about rain?”

  Sir Charles slapped Geoff’s back. “This, my boy, is Wellington weather. Almost every one of his successes has been in pouring rain.”

  That was good news. Geoff’s thoughts immediately turned to Elizabeth. “I’ll be back straightaway.” Sir Charles raised a brow. “My wife, sir. She is helping tend the wounded. I want to make sure she gets out of this downpour.”

  “Come back as soon as you can. We should be receiving more news.”

  Geoff rushed out into the street, and just as he’d expected, down the street, Elizabeth, her muslin gown clinging to her, was helping a soldier at least a foot taller than she was. “Here, let me.” He relieved her of her burden. “Where is your maid?”

  She pushed her bedraggled bonnet out of her eyes. “Finding the house. This soldier’s house.”

  They walked a few more blocks before Vickers appeared with a middle-aged Bruxelles couple hurrying toward them.“I have ’im now, monsieur,” the man said as he supported the soldier. “Thank you. He has become like a son.”

  “Geoffrey,” Elizabeth said when the man left. “What are you doing out here? You are going to be soaked.”

  “I think I already am. But what am I doing? Making sure you don’t become ill from being in the rain. Come, sweetheart. I’m taking you home.”

  Elizabeth’s heart soared when Geoffrey called her “sweetheart.” Was it because of what she had said the night before? It really didn’t matter. She had become tired of the game and could not bring herself to play it any longer. Not when there were so many people who would never see their loved ones alive again.

  “Very well.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “You must change as well. I do not believe Sir Charles will appreciate you making puddles on his floors.”

  Geoffrey’s chuckle warmed her from the inside out. “No, I don’t suppose he will.” They had already reached the door of their house when he said, “Did you know they call this rain Wellington weather?”

  “Pouring down rain?” Unless the general had turned into a duck, that made no sense at all. “Why would they call it Wellington weather?”

  Geoffrey grinned. “According to Sir Charles, the duke always wins when it’s raining.”

  It still did not make sense, but people had to grab on to whatever hope they could. “I suppose that has made everyone feel better.”

  “That, and the news that the allies held their ground last night.” He gave her a swift kiss.

  “Now that is good to hear.” And something solid to hold on to.

  Vickers helped Elizabeth strip off her wet clothing. “Looks like you and his lordship made up.”

  “Yes.” After a fashion, and only because she had been forced to see how fragile and precious life was. Yet, despite what his mother and grandmother thought, it was clear that he did not return her love. She gave herself a shake. There would be plenty of time after the war was over to think about her marriage. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I wanted to do it,” Vickers said gruffly. “They’re our soldiers fighting for us. Seems like we should return the favor when we can.”

  “That’s how I feel as well.” Elizabeth wiped a drop of rain off her face. “I’m not happy about this war, but I am glad that we are here to give whatever assistance we are able to.”

  Her maid nodded. “Let’s get you out of that gown before you take a chill.”

  Elizabeth went into the hall as Geoffrey was departing to make sure he had his waterproof cloak.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be home tonight.” He hugged her gently.

  Cupping his cheek, she kissed him. “Send word if you will be too late. I’ll hold dinner until seven. Even if you miss that, there will be something for you to eat.”

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you make sure I’m fed no matter what time I get home.”

  Yesterday, she would have made an angry comment about her qualifications, but today, she could simply accept his appreciation. “I want to ensure you are properly fed. I know you have dined with Sir Charles, but your lack of enthusiasm about his table makes me think it must not be very good.”

  Geoffrey barked a laugh. “I’m glad you keep a much better table than he does.”

  That night, he held her close to him. He might not love her, but he did care for her and took care of her. She wished she could be satisfied with that. Unfortunately, she knew herself too well. Something would have to change or this marriage was doomed.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The next several days were a blur. What Elizabeth had prayed, hoped for, and believed would happen did. Napoleon was routed, but at such a cost. She could not imagine there was a family in England, or at least in the ton, who had not been touched by a deceased or wounded family member. The total number of dead was horrendous.

  Yet, Geoffrey’s and
her part was, in a fashion, just beginning. Sir Charles was tasked with returning the French king to his throne, and for that, they must travel to Paris.

  It pained her to leave her friends, some of whom still did not know if their loved ones were dead or alive. Before she departed, though, she made arrangements for the house to be made into a sort of hospital. Colonel Hawksworth promised he would see it happen.

  Of the friends she and Geoffrey had before they arrived, Lord John and Major Cotton had been wounded. As long as an infection did not set in, they would live. Lord John’s Brigade Major had died. Neither Geoffrey nor Elizabeth had discovered what happened to the rest of them before they had to leave, but the others said they would send word if they were able.

  As she had done before they’d left England, Elizabeth supervised the packing. Fortunately, the cook, who was extremely good, agreed to remain in their employ. They tearfully bid farewell to the Belgian caretakers who had allowed her staff to take over the house while they were in residence, and agreed to the injured staying at the house.

  Wellington and the soldiers he had that could travel accompanied King Louis, his retinue, and Sir Charles’s staff as they left Brussels.

  It soon became clear that many of the French cities considered the allied army the enemy and, much to Wellington’s ire, would only open their gates to King Louis XVIII.

  When they arrived in Cambrai, the king issued a proclamation that only the instigators of the war would be punished. He was also forced to admit that his government had made some mistakes, but promised to correct them.

  Geoffrey didn’t think much of that. “He will be surrounded by the same fawning sycophants and other ministers, so tell me how he is to change?”

  She had to agree with her husband that unless someone took the king in hand, change was unlikely to occur.

  At the end of June, a delegation of five from the Chamber of Deputies and the Chamber of Peers requested that Wellington replace Louis with a foreign prince, but he refused, saying that Louis was the best way to preserve the integrity of France.

  Elizabeth, Geoffrey, and the rest of the procession were preparing to finally arrive in Paris when one of their horses threw a shoe outside of a small village that had only one inn and a blacksmith.