by Stella Riley
‘I’ve gathered that,’ said Justin dryly. He was acutely aware both of her proximity and the need for caution. This was only a skirmish but if he weakened now, he’d lose the war. ‘The question is – why?’
Her colour rose a little. ‘Must there be any reason other than that I want to lie with you?’
He rather thought there was - but making her say it would only compound his difficulties. In an attempt to halt this painful interlude, he said as gently as he was able, ‘I’m sorry, Abby. The answer is still no.’
‘You don’t want me?’
‘What I want is beside the point. I don’t seduce virgins.’
‘Not even,’ she asked huskily, ‘when they ask you to?’
God, this was hard. ‘Not even then. Now can we please leave this?’
‘Yes. But before we do – and just to be absolutely clear – you won’t take me to bed because I’m a virgin. Is that right?’
‘Yes.’ It wasn’t the whole truth – but he’d reached the point where he’d say anything that would make her stop.
‘Then there’s a simple solution, isn’t there?’ said Abigail. She stood up and looked back at him with something that wasn’t quite a smile. ‘Not ideal, perhaps – but simple.’
Justin felt a sharp prickle of suspicion.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘There are a hundred or so men downstairs in the yard. I only need one of them.’
Silence, heavy with foreboding, filled the space between them.
Abigail waited hopefully. This was the point in the plan where he was supposed to lose his temper, put his hands on her and tell her there was no way in hell he’d allow that. Unfortunately, the plan didn’t seem to be working. He didn’t appear at all angry or outraged or concerned. He didn’t even stand up.
It took every ounce of Justin’s will to keep his face expressionless and his tone perfectly bland; to lounge back on one elbow and say, ‘If that is a threat designed to bring me to heel, I’m afraid you’ve miscalculated.’
‘Have I? How?’
‘No one will touch you.’
For a moment she couldn’t believe he had said it. ‘What?’
‘No one will touch you. But if you don’t believe me …’ He shrugged, as if to say, ‘Go and find out for yourself.’
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen but his words stung and left her feeling as if she had no choice. Still believing that he’d stop her, she whirled towards the door, saying, ‘I don’t.’ And almost before she knew it, found herself on the stairs.
As soon as she was out of the room, Justin was on his feet, mentally cursing himself. Of all the things he might have said, that was probably the worst. He ought to go after her. How long dared he leave it? She should be perfectly safe – even looking like that. In the entire garrison, no man in his right mind would dare lay a hand on her. But what if one or two of them were drunk? What then? He tried to think who might be downstairs right now; just one man who would take care of her should the need arise. No good. He’d have to go down himself. He should never have let her leave. But that was probably what she had been counting on; and, if it wasn’t - if she actually thought she could do this thing and he followed her now to put a stop to it - she might try again some other time without his knowledge.
Abigail, meanwhile, made her way down the stairs and along the passage way which led outside, stopping when she reached the door. She thought, I don’t have to go out there. I never intended it to get this far and I don’t have to do it. I could just go back. The trouble was that some perverse corner of her mind wanted to know if what Justin had said was really true.
‘No one will touch you.’
She walked slowly out into the courtyard. There were numerous troopers gathered in small knots here and there – some merely talking, others servicing muskets and pistols. Gradually, as they became aware of her presence, a good many of them turned to look and some of the cheerful chatter died away. They had all seen her before, of course; they just hadn’t seen her looking as if she’d just stepped out of the north turret. She gazed around her and the men stared back but no one approached her. She turned to see if Justin had followed her and was in the doorway watching. He wasn’t. He’d let her do this to prove his point. Her small store of courage and self-confidence shrivelled to nothing and tears pricked her eyes.
‘Miss Abigail – whatever are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death.’ Sergeant Cole had materialised at her side and was taking her arm. ‘Come on, lass – let’s get you back in the warm.’
Abigail looked up at him, scarlet with humiliation. The tears that had been threatening spilled over and, blindly, she let him lead her back inside.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know … that was very stupid, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, now – that depends.’ Archie Cole peered down into the miserable face and drew his own conclusions. ‘You and the Captain had a few words, did you?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Ah. He’ll be glad to see you safe, though, and ready to say he’s sorry, I’ll be bound.’
‘He’s more likely to say he told me so,’ said Abigail, swallowing a sob. ‘I should have listened.’
Frowning suddenly, the sergeant said, ‘He knows you’re down here, then?’
‘Yes.’
Archie reflected that whatever had gone on was none of his business and that Captain Ambrose was unlikely to thank him for interfering. On the other hand, if the Captain had let her come down into the yard on her own and showing more flesh than the men ever saw without paying for it, he needed his bloody head examining.
As if reading his thought, Abigail said, ‘It wasn’t his fault. I asked him to … well, to do something and he said no. But I … I thought I could make him change his mind. I never really meant to actually d-do it. And I wouldn’t have, except that he said – he said …’
‘Yes, lass? What did he say?’
‘He said no one would touch me,’ she said bitterly. ‘And he was right.’
‘Well, of course he was right,’ said Archie, bracing but confused.
‘Thank you. You needn’t spell it out.’
And the missing link clicked into place. Reading between the lines, Archie felt she’d unwittingly given him rather more information than the Captain would be at all comfortable with – but he couldn’t just let it alone. He said, ‘Pardon me asking, Miss – but when the Captain said no one would touch you, was that all he said?’
‘Yes. It was enough, wasn’t it?’
‘Not really. He ought to have mentioned why they wouldn’t. You see, every man here knows that you’re the Captain’s lady; and they all also know that if any of them showed you the slightest disrespect, he’d knock seven bells out of them.’
Abigail looked up. There were tears on her cheeks but the look in her eyes had changed.
‘Is that true?’
‘Word of a green-jacket, lass.’ Sergeant Cole smiled at her. ‘Come on. I’ll see you up the stairs.’
‘That’s kind – but you don’t need to.’
‘Maybe not. But as it happens, I wouldn’t mind a couple of words with the Captain.’
Upstairs, Justin was pacing round like a caged tiger when, hearing boots on the staircase, he threw the door open and found himself facing his sergeant with Abigail on his arm.
‘Abby?’ he said helplessly.
Ignoring him, she reached up to kiss the sergeant’s cheek and whisper, ‘Thank you.’ Then she stalked past him without so much as a glance.
Justin looked back at Sergeant Cole. ‘Archie?’
‘Sir.’ The response was perfectly correct. The look in the sergeant’s eyes wasn’t. ‘I’m sure you’ll forgive me speaking plainly, Captain Ambrose. There’s nothing to report, if you take my meaning. But if there had been, you’d have had no one but yourself to blame.’
Justin flinched slightly. ‘Yes, Archie. I know. Thank you.’
With a stiff
nod, Sergeant Cole turned on his heel and left. Justin closed the door behind him and looked across at Abigail. She was standing at the window with her back to him. He walked slowly towards her saying, ‘Abby – I’m sorry.’
‘Are you?’ She turned then and looked at him. Her lashes were still wet but her eyes were furious. ‘And I suppose you think that makes it all better.’
‘Not really.’ He was beside her now and out of his depth with no idea what to say. ‘But one has to start somewhere.’
‘True,’ said Abigail. And without conscious thought or any warning whatsoever, she slapped him hard across the face, putting the full weight of her body behind it.
Unprepared for it, Justin’s head snapped round and he took a half-step back. Then, resisting the desire to massage his jaw, he said wryly, ‘Yes. You’re entitled. If you’d like to take a swing at the other one, I could turn —’
‘Stop!’ If she had looked angry before, she was now positively incandescent. ‘Don’t you dare add mockery to everything else!’
‘I wasn’t,’ he protested, completely taken aback. ‘I only meant —’
‘I don’t care.’ She looked at the mark of her palm, flaming against his cheek and hoped it stung as much as her hand did. Then she brushed past him, saying, ‘I just want to go somewhere you are not. You’ll understand that, I’m sure. You do it all the time.’
Spinning round, he managed to catch her wrist before she had the door fully open.
‘Just one thing, then. I said they wouldn’t touch you. I didn’t say they wouldn’t want to.’
‘No. You didn’t. You just let me think it.’ And, wrenching her hand free, she walked out.
*
In the north turret, Nancy admitted her hospitably enough but with blunt surprise and, waving her to a chair, said, ‘Well, love – what’s brought you up all them stairs?’
In a torrent of words and totally unaware that there were tears streaming down her face the whole time, Abigail told her. When she reached the part of the tale where she’d slapped Justin’s face, Nancy let out a choke of laughter.
‘That’s the spirit! Now stop crying, you silly girl. You’ll have left him reeling – and that’s good. Does he know where you are?’
‘No. And I hope he’s got more sense than to come looking.’ Abigail mopped her face with a handful of skirt and, realising that she was cold, sought for her errant sleeves. ‘He’ll think I’ve gone to Lucy. If he thinks at all, that is.’
‘Oh he’ll think, love. Trust me.’ Nancy paused and then said, ‘All right. You’ve told me what just happened. Now tell me why.’
‘You know why, Nancy. I love him.’
‘Have you told him?’
‘No – though I imagine he’s guessed. But if I say it, he’ll think I’m looking for something more than I actually am. Something permanent, which I’ve always known he can’t give.’ Still feeling inexplicably cold, she slithered out of the chair to curl up in a billow of taffeta on the floor before the fire. Then, pulling the ribbon out of her hair to twine it restlessly about her fingers, ‘I think he might want me just a little but he won’t do anything about it because he’s too busy honouring his promises. And I’m running out of time.’ She looked up. ‘So if you can teach me how to seduce him, I’ll be grateful.’
‘If I knew how to do that, I’d have done it for myself long since,’ came the frank reply. Then, ‘It ain’t just virgins, love. As far as I know, he don’t bed whores neither.’ Nancy grinned. ‘A bit too choosy, in my book. But I forgive him because he’s a damned good friend.’
‘I know.’
‘And extremely easy on the eye.’
Abigail smiled weakly. ‘I know that, too.’
‘None of which answers your question, does it?’ Nancy examined the expressive face with apparent calm while thoughts jostled in her mind. Then, deciding that loyalty to Justin made it impossible to repeat his confidences but needn’t stop her helping Abigail, she said, ‘Right, then. You’ve tried showing him a bit of extra flesh, you’ve tried forcing his hand and you’ve asked nicely if he’d like to have you – and none of it worked. Whore’s tricks won’t work either – you’d never pull ‘em off and he’d hate it if you did. So the only thing left is to plant yourself in his bed one night and hope he’s too pleased to ask questions … but I wouldn’t care to depend on it.’
‘Nor would I. And I wouldn’t know what to do next, anyway.’
‘Oh God.’ Rising, Nancy poured two cups of wine and handed one to Abigail. ‘Don’t you know anything?’
‘Not really.’ Abigail took a fortifying gulp of wine, then stared down into the cup. ‘I know how the … the actual act is done … but that’s all.’ She shrugged. ‘Mother might have told me what to expect of the marriage-bed if Jonas hadn’t been forcing me to marry a man who terrified me. As it was, she knew better than to try. And … and judging from the things Thankful Barnes said, beds didn’t come into it much anyway.’
‘And what things did he say?’ asked Nancy, frowning.
‘Horrible things. I – I don’t think they’re normal. But, of course, I’m so hopelessly ignorant, I can’t be certain.’
Nancy looked down on the bent head and said grimly, ‘Tell me.’
Turning the cup round and round in her hands, her whole body seeming to curl in on itself, Abigail drew a long, shuddering breath and, in as few words as possible, related a string of obscene perversions that, just for a moment, left Nancy speechless with shock. Then she said disgustedly, ‘You’re right. None of that’s normal. And no amount of coin would persuade any self-respecting whore to allow it either. The bugger’s sick.’
Abigail looked at her and said simply, ‘Thank you. You have no idea … it’s such a relief.’
Nancy reached out and briefly squeezed her hand.
‘You should have come to me before, love.’ She leaned back, shaking her head. ‘Well, let’s see. Don’t worry about not knowing everything; that won’t matter. The only thing you really do need to know is that the first time will hurt – but not for long and, if Justin’s the man I take him for, he’ll soon make you forget it.’
‘If he ever lets me near him, you mean.’
‘Not thinking of giving up, are you? In fact, I reckon you ought to go back now and see what state he’s in’ Nancy grinned. ‘He’s had long enough to take a few drinks and for his worry to turn into aggravation – so if you really want him drunk and angry, now’s your chance.’
‘I’m not sure I do.’ Abigail got slowly to her feet. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Nancy. But … you won’t tell him any of this, will you?’
‘What – none of it? Not even about that bastard Barnes?’
‘No. Promise me?’
Nancy groaned. ‘Oh all right, all right! But if mistaking my door for the confessional is going to become a bloody habit, I might as well get myself a nun’s veil and have done with it.’
*
Justin spent the first hour of Abigail’s absence staring into the fire and contemplating his behaviour. She had offered herself to him. God only knew how hard that had been for her - and he’d turned her down with neither grace nor even any particular courtesy. That was quite bad enough … but carelessly letting her think – even for a moment – that she was so undesirable that no man would want her was completely unforgivable. He shouldn’t have let her go downstairs either. It would have been quite easy to stop her – but no. He’d had to be clever.
Mainly to avoid thinking of why all this had happened, he spent the next hour doing something he told himself was purely a paper-exercise. He attempted to calculate the cost of the composition fine on Trent and how much land he’d need to sell in order to raise it. The figures he arrived at were probably inaccurate and definitely depressing. Not, he reminded himself, that there was any question of using them. The crux of the matter was not whether he could find a buyer for the land at all, never mind raise sufficient money by doing so … it was that he didn’t think he could stomach t
he idea of violating his conscience by laying his hand on the Bible and swearing the two oaths that would be required of him if he wanted to compound.
The Oath to the Solemn League and Covenant – more religious than political - was basically a vow to think and believe as he was told but also contained disturbing clauses about rooting out anybody who didn’t. The Negative Oath was simpler; it merely made him promise not to directly or indirectly adhere unto or willingly assist the King. Justin, who considered a man’s conscience to be his own affair, objected to both of them equally - which meant that the only way to take either one was by lying.
So when one added the facts that he had no idea how long it would take to oust the French vermin from a house he couldn’t stand the thought of living in anyway and that he had no ambition to become the eighth Baron Templeton, the whole notion was simply not viable.
When the door opened, he stood up so fast he overset the stool. Not bothering to right it, he looked across at Abigail and felt fear twisting his gut. Her hair was hanging down her back, her face bore all the signs of recent crying and the green gown looked both dirty and crumpled. Controlling his voice as best he could, he said carefully, ‘Am I allowed to ask where you’ve been?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It … might.’
She smiled bitterly. ‘I haven’t been losing my maidenhead – if that’s what you were thinking.’
‘Ah.’ Relief washed over him. ‘Good.’
‘Is it?’ She walked past him and started hunting for something first on the table and then, more impatiently, at the washstand. ‘Have you seen the scissors?’
‘Scissors?’ echoed Justin stupidly. ‘No. Did you want them?’
‘Well, obviously. Otherwise I wouldn’t be looking.’
This was so unlike her that he almost laughed. Fortunately, sense prevailed and he said, ‘What did you need them for?’
‘I want to get out of this dress – and if I don’t find the scissors, I’m likely to end up sleeping in it.’
‘Oh God,’ thought Justin, all desire to laugh abruptly leaving him. ‘Oh Abby, my darling. I am so very sorry.’