Renewed Hope

by Rose Fairbanks

  Lady Belinda had not deserved his harsh words. He had been discombobulated since their accidental meeting earlier in the evening. So much so, that when her father attempted to introduce him, Richard did not want her to think less of him for knowing he was the second son instead of the heir. He expected, for just one night, to enjoy the pleasures that can be afforded from the flattery and charms of a beautiful lady.

  Lord and sunder she was beautiful! Soaking wet, she had taken his breath away. Her hair made darker, her features paler. So striking in contrast! When she returned for dinner, there was no trace of their first meeting left. For some reason, he needed to know that it was not an illusion on his part. He searched for any sign she had been as deeply affected as he but found none. Annoyed that he sought her good opinion, when he knew more than most the dangers of a woman, he attacked ruthlessly. Her words about uncivil soldiers were too on the point but in the next moment she softened and seemed genuinely interested in Georgiana and his opinions of music. His head was swimming with conflicting information, and he had waged into battle half-cocked.

  After she had fled the table, Lord Crenshaw explained the reasons for his daughter’s low spirits. She had formed an attachment to a young naval officer who could not offer marriage without needing her entire dowry. Even if Crenshaw had wished to assist, and he understandably had his reservations about the match, it was placed in a trust that could not be touched until Lady Belinda came of age. Determined to make his own fortune, the officer took a posting last summer. The ship was soon lost at sea and Belinda was still grieving.

  Richard tugged off his cravat and threw it on a chair. Having done little to ease his frustration, he then poured himself a drink. He had unjustly wounded a lady, and his honour was the only thing he had left. The drink was to drown out the portion of his mind that screamed at the folly of going into enemy territory. But his better nature demanded that he make amends. A familiar feeling that he had experienced many times before formed in the pit of his stomach. He was equal parts excited by and terrified of another interaction with Lady Belinda. He needed a plan of action for the latest battle he faced.

  The following morning, Truman entered while Richard was finishing dressing. “Toss me the cravat. Yes, the old one will do.”

  Truman laughed at the finished product. “Have you no compassion for my dignity?”

  “What? Like you wish to be my nurse and dress me. I am not a baby.”

  Truman looked away and did not laugh as Richard had expected. “That was insensitive of me. Of course, you are proud of the station valet.”

  “It may not be much to an earl’s son, but earning wages for work that half a world away my kin folk are forced to do in chattel makes me proud.”

  Truman’s grandfather had been a slave and brought back to England after a war in the colonies. He became valet and butler to the officer who bought and freed him. Truman’s father earned enough money to open a shop. Such was the usual career path for a household servant and his descendants, but it meant more to a man who might be denied his freedom due to the colour of his skin.

  “Forgive me. Last night’s dinner and my errand this morning made for a poor night’s rest.” Of course, dreams of Belinda in his arms did not help matters.

  “What happened last night?”

  Rather than attempting to put into words the strange effect Belinda had on him, Richard waved off the concern. “I have a daunting errand today. Hopefully, all goes well.”

  “Good luck with the Major-General,” Truman said as Richard left.

  The words rattled in his ears. Richard had meant apologising to Lady Belinda.

  *****

  Richard did have a meeting with Major-General Vyse planned, however, and they met at one of London’s finest clubs. The fact that the superior officer clearly felt at home in his surroundings did not bode well for Richard.

  “I have looked over your reports, Fitzwilliam. It seems nothing could have been done differently. My apologies if you were close to Craufurd.” Richard inclined his head at the civility. “Now, it seems the regiment needs a new brigadier.”

  This was the moment Richard had been dreading. He prayed he was not offered the command as refusing would be near impossible and dishonourable.

  “Do you know William Gordon? I think he will be the perfect fit for this regiment. He shows promise. I have already cleared it with headquarters. You will report to his office when he arrives in London later this week.”

  Their meeting soon ended and Richard’s frustration grew as he rode to the Crenshaw residence. The only promise William Gordon showed was a sizeable pocketbook, an unwed daughter, and a lacklustre parliamentary record. He worried about himself first and had no loyalty to the crown. Or to the mere men that fought under his command and at his whims. The problem with the British chain of command is that it mattered more who one knew than how one fought. With any luck, Richard could suggest a few advisors for soon to be Brigadier-General Gordon to take on. Perhaps if he had competent people surrounding him, he might listen to their opinions.

  Arriving at Belinda’s home, the knot in his stomach returned. Strange that he would feel it before asking for an audience with her but not while speaking with the General. Richard usually associated the feeling with battle. Although, in this case, she was certainly the more dangerous enemy.

  Lady Crenshaw must have made her instructions clear to the butler as Belinda entered the drawing room without a chaperone. What mother would not give a lady a few minutes alone with a suitor? Richard’s black heart laughed at the idea of trusting a man who killed for a living with an innocent’s reputation. Mere minutes could end a life…or bring thrilling pleasure. The thought pricked Richard’s mind as Belinda exuded vitality in a pale pink gown. Richard blessed the fashion designers who dictated gowns follow a lady’s curves more naturally than the generation before had. Living in the age of Napoleon might be well worth something after all.

  She resolutely refused to look at him and sat down on a settee. Apparently, he was not even due the usual civilities. After several minutes in silence, Belinda glanced at the door and huffed. Richard gathered his gumption. He needed to make his apology and depart, not stare at the graceful line of her neck or where the fabric skimmed over her hips. He stood and walked closer to her. Despite herself, she looked up, craning her neck as he towered over her. The ridiculousness of it caused him to smile.

  “Did you suppose, Lord Arlington, that because I did not speak to you, I could not see you? Perhaps you believe I need spectacles or that no woman would be able to resist your charm? Or more likely, you suppose all ladies desire the title you could offer them. Well, I do not covet a title, nor do I need glasses. And as you see, I am perfectly capable of—”

  She abruptly stopped and stood. “You were saying?” He followed her to the window.

  “I cannot think straight when you are standing near me like that!”

  Richard smiled and leaned against the wall. “How is this, then?”

  “Why do you unsettle me so?”

  “All part of my irresistible charm,” he drawled. He should at least inform her that he was no viscount, but then viscounts could be forgiven for rudeness.

  “I certainly find it resistible,” she said but stepped closer and arched her neck again.

  His attention was divided between wondering about the taste of her plump lips and desiring to query the smoothness of her neck.

  “Are you even paying attention to me?” She snapped.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Good. As I was saying, there is nothing charming about you! You accuse innocent ladies that you do not even know of being mercenary and conniving—”

  “I am sorry about that.”

  “And you— What was that?”

  Richard’s smile grew as he looked at her large eyes go round in surprise and confusion.

  “I apologise for my accusations last night. Please forgive me. I would not mean to hurt you.”

  “You th
ink you hurt me? Your words were nothing. Nothing…compared to losing…” Tears began to fall, but she still attempted to speak. “And then to be forced to go on like nothing happened. Like I am not empty. Paraded around for suitor after suitor.”

  He withdrew his handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. “I am sorry.”

  “What for?” she blubbered.

  “For thinking it was all about me?” He gave her a half-smile, and she returned it. Mentally, he was apologising for wanting nothing more than to kiss away her tears. She was mourning another man’s death. The last thing in the world she desired was his kiss!

  Belinda shook her head. “I do not think I like you apologetic. You’re far safer when gruff and demeaning. When you are like this, it’s so—so—so confusing!”

  “What is confusing?” His mind was too busy chanting “honour, honour, honour” and ignoring the craven beast-like feeling to kiss her. When had she come so much closer to him?

  “This,” she said before touching her lips to his.

  Chapter Four

  She kissed him.

  Lord forgive her.

  Seth forgive her.

  She would never forgive herself.

  She kissed him.

  Belinda broke the kiss that was little more than a mere whisper of touched flesh. Somewhere in her chest, she felt a wild thumping, but it could not be her heart. Her heart had shattered with Seth’s death. That possibility terrified her more than the actions she just took. Belinda ran to the other side of the room and behind a settee just as her mother came in.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam, how nice to see you!”

  Belinda turned accusatory eyes on him. Instead of acknowledging what happened in any way, he merely bowed at her mother. Belinda took note of how his muscles flexed under his attire. Now, it made sense. Of course, he was not the pampered eldest son. He was the Earl of Matlock’s younger son, celebrated war hero just back from the Continent.

  And that was really all she knew about him.

  That and that his lips were impossibly soft, his arms incredibly strong, and she would never tire of the look of surprise in his eyes after she had kissed him.

  “I came to see if Lady Belinda recovered from her headache. I was sorry she took ill last night.”

  Ah, there was the perfectly formal apology he should have started their encounter with. Belinda took a deep breath and sat on the settee. His eyes never left hers. “As you see, Colonel. I am recovered.” She tossed her curls a little. Hoping the insanity that caused her to kiss him would be just as easily shrugged off.

  “Yes, then I will leave you,” he stood to leave.

  “Oh, it is such a nice day out. Perhaps you would like a stroll in the garden? Belinda loves walking out there.”

  “My lady?” he asked and held out his arm.

  Resigned, she took it and allowed him to lead her to the garden. As soon as they were away from her mother, Belinda released his arm.

  “Colonel,” she began.

  “Richard,” he interrupted.

  “Excuse me? I cannot call you by your Christian name.”

  “Because it would break propriety?”

  He said nothing but his raised eyebrow told her his thoughts. He must now think her a loose woman since she threw herself at him and kissed him mere minutes ago. Opening her mouth, tart words ready to drip from her tongue like a sword cutting flesh, she closed it when she saw a twinkle of amusement enter his eyes. She had misjudged him several times in their short acquaintance. Perhaps he did not mean to insult her, and it was merely her own feelings of guilt prickling her conscience.

  “Have I confused you again?”

  Ooh! He was having too much fun at her expense.

  “Oh, no. I am not confused. I, at least, know my own name.”

  “I did not claim to be Arlington. You inferred it.”

  “Yes, but only because my parents are desperate for me to marry him!” By the way the Colonel’s right eye twitched, she thought her arrow landed too close to the mark. She had aimed to graze, not wound. “Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. And I shall rescind my apology as well.”

  Belinda’s mouth dropped. “You believe your accusations are merited after all? Do, explain what fault you find with me now. Recall, if you would, that you have already changed your mind about me once. But I listen with baited breath to hear the evidence you have for renewing them.”

  He stepped closer to her. “You acknowledge that you thought I was Arlington. You acknowledge your parents wish you to wed him.” He paused and stepped even closer. She arched her neck to meet his eyes but instead they landed on his lips. “And I see I do not need to remind you of your kiss. What is there to suppose, madam, but that you hoped to ensnare my brother? And your tears will not work on me this time.”

  He did not want to see tears? Very well. Her hand landed on his cheek with a satisfying and loud crack. His nostrils flared. That time she did aim to wound, but it seemed she merely grazed him. She cradled her hand.

  “Did you think that would hurt me? I’ve been in the King’s service for half of your life. Or did you think it would shock me into apologising? I’ve been a soldier too long to care about genteel manners.”

  And to think she had once been worried about falling captive under his charm!

  “Give it here,” he said while reaching for her hand. He turned it over. “I do not think you broke it, merely sprained. You will not be able to perform on the pianoforte or embroider for a few days.”

  She wrenched her hand away. “You may have no honour left in you, but I do,” she hissed. “I had apologised for in anyway insinuating that you were a lesser man than your brother. I only meant that I had assumed you were he because he is all my parents would speak of.”

  “How fortunate for me, that your parents now seem to believe we are interchangeable.”

  “As if your parents are any better! First Lord Arlington, then Mr. Darcy, now you. They do not care who among your clan marries me, so long as one of you does. At least you do not bear the added insult of men fleeing Town to avoid you. My objection is not specific to you. I refuse to permit any man to court me. My heart is not for sale. It sank to the bottom of the sea.”

  As she fled his side in tears again, she vowed it would be the last time Richard Fitzwilliam, or whatever name he had upon their next meeting, would cause her such distress.

  *****

  Jacob Truman shifted about Richard’s dressing room. As he silently put away various accessories, Truman considered that he should think of Richard as his master. However, the two men had seen hell on Earth on the battlefields of Spain. As a descendant of a former slave, Truman had understood the world was prejudiced and unjust towards people of colour. He was ill-prepared, however, for how he might be treated in Army life.

  Richard, at last, appeared in the bedchamber. Truman went to him. “How did the meeting go?”

  “I made a blasted ruin of it all again.”

  “It's not like you to upset the General.”

  “Oh! Yes, I saw the General. He is considering installing William Gordon as the Brigadier. We are to meet with him later this week.”

  Richard began dressing and handed Truman articles of clothing to put aside appropriately. After several minutes of silence, Richard spoke. “I had an additional errand today, and that is what I was referring to as ruining. Again. You are a man of the world, Truman. I would welcome your insight.”

  “I would not call myself thusly, however, I will gladly assist you in any way.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  The question startled Truman so much, he dropped the cufflinks he was attempting to put away. Truman had heard Richard’s story of a young lady who had done him wrong. However, Truman was less forthcoming than his friend. “A long time ago.”

  “It’s easy to guess it ended badly.”

  “Indeed. I was mistaken in her affections.”

  “That is because women can have
no sincere affection.”

  “Do you really believe that? Or are you merely angry the one before did not have sincere affection for you?”

  “It was not merely Lucy's betrayal that has shaped my opinion. Through the years, I have seen ladies court wealth and titles above seeking the affections from honourable gentlemen they believe are lesser.”

  “I tend to agree with you. However, ladies have much less freedom than gentlemen. They are beholden to their families and even after marriage have little means to independence. Many might settle for contentment instead of risking family disapproval for their heart's desire. Fortune is relative. There’s no guarantee on it. One wastrel head of the family might dissipate it all. One poor investment might ruin a family.”

  “Are you justifying a lady's pursuit of money at all costs?”

  “No. When my love broke our engagement, she said it was out of concern for family approval. Indeed, we already knew her family would disapprove on some extent, and so we planned an elopement. On the eve of the departure, she chose to break our understanding entirely. She said she could not bear to lose her family in such a way.”

  Richard grunted. “That may be sensible, but I think if two people are truly in love they would not wait on sense.”

  “Could there be lasting happiness without sense?”

  Richard was silent for a while and then seemed to desire to change the conversation. “Tomorrow, I must see the doctor.”

  “Is the wound troubling you?”

  “No, but he made me vow to continue the checks and so I must journey to the Royal Hospital. Upon my return, we will set out to see the Brigadier-General Gordon.”

  “Very well.” Truman mentally noted that Richard would prefer to wear a uniform to such engagements. He also made it a habit of donating funds and necessities to the hospital at each visit. Truman would prepare a package.

  “Have your leave, Truman. I am dressed now for dinner and will not need you again until before bed.”