“It is still light out,” Elspeth told him.
“Let me close the curtains, then.” When Val had drawn them shut, he turned and there was Elspeth standing in the same spot.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No,” she said slowly. “I just have never undressed in front of a man before.”
“Then let me help you.” Val stood behind her and, as he dropped kisses on her neck, slowly unpinned her. The dress slipped to the floor and Elspeth stepped out of it and turned to face him.
“I am a little chilly, Val,” she said nervously. “I’ll get under the covers while you undress.”
He knew it wasn’t the cold but her self-consciousness. He pulled opened the buttons of his tunic as he watched her slip into the bed. He was just unfastening his trousers when she giggled. “Your boots?”
It seemed to take forever to pull the damned boots off, but he finally succeeded and stood there in his small clothes, his back to her. He debated taking them off in bed. But they were husband and wife, and she would see him sooner or later, he told himself, and he stripped right then and there.
As he was turning around, she gasped and he flushed with embarrassment. Perhaps he should have waited.
“Your back, Val,” she said, her voice shaking.
He had completely forgotten about it. It had been dark the first time they had made love, so she wouldn’t have seen the scars, and it had been so hurried she’d hardly had a chance to feel them.
“Yes, well, no one serves in the army for twelve years and escapes flogging,” he said lightly. “That is, if you serve in the ranks,” he added ironically.
“I have only seen one flogging,” said Elspeth, “and that was enough. I know it may be a necessary discipline, but I could not watch another one.”
Val sat on the edge of the bed and Elspeth ran her fingers over the crisscrossed weals. “How long ago was this, Val?”
“Oh, early on. I had not gotten used to not being a free man, though you’d think I would have learned after George Burton,” he added ruefully.
“George Burton?”
“My aunt’s husband. The blacksmith I was apprenticed to. I haven’t led the life of an officer and a gentleman, Elspeth.”
“Was he a hard man, this George?”
“Some would say so. Some would say no more than most.”
“You told me your mother died when you were eight. Did you go directly to your aunt’s?”
“Where else was there to go?” he said matter-of-factly. Her fingers were still on his back, lightly tracing the scars as if she could make them go away. He could not turn and face her, not while he could feel her pity. It wasn’t pity he wanted.
“Your father’s?” she whispered.
He looked down at the ring hanging around his neck and, pulling away, slipped it off. “Until I was eight, I thought my father was a soldier killed in India,” he said bitterly.
Elspeth said nothing. What could she say? That she was sorry for that little boy who had lost mother and father at the same time, who’d been sent off to a harsh, perhaps cruel man? She had thought she’d understood his pride. She had even, God forgive her, thought him unduly sensitive to a situation that did not seem that important to her.
“I am sorry you were forced to marry me, Elspeth,” he said.
“I am not sorry at all,” she answered fiercely and sliding over to make room for him, she took his hand and pulled him down next to her.
After the first kiss, Val did not even care whether it was love or pity. He was lost in the moment, lost in the pleasure of suckling at her breast, lost in amazement when she slid her hand down and caressed him gently and rhythmically.
“Not yet,” he whispered as he gently moved her hand away.
“I hope that would give you pleasure,” she whispered.
“Oh, it does,” he groaned. “But too much, too soon. I wish to give you pleasure this time.”
When his hand found her, Elspeth realized she had been hiding all her life. From the moment she had known she was not beautiful or sweetly foolish, she had hidden her deepest self away. For why should she be there, eager and loving, when no one was there to meet her and see her for who she was? No one had ever been curious about what lay beneath the surface. No one had cared to find her until now. Until this man with his hard face and scarred soul and oh, so gentle fingers drove her up and up, seemingly away from him. But he would not let her hide. He came after her, he sought her longingly, and then she was coming down into his arms and she was free and home at last.
It was only when she clung to him, shuddering, that Val entered her. He couldn’t wait, for he knew she was there, ready to meet him. And as he poured himself into her, he marveled that Elspeth could make him forget everything in the past and only be with her in the present.
They lay collapsed in each other’s arms for a long time and Val dropped occasional kisses on her head, Finally they fell back against the pillows and Elspeth looked over at him and gave a soft laugh.
“What is so amusing, madame?” he asked.
She reached out her finger and traced his nose.
“You are making fun of my nose!” he said with mock indignation. “I’ll have you know it is considered quite—
“Wellingtonian,” she said with a little giggle.
“Surely not so prominent as that?”
“I wonder if our children will inherit it,” she said without thinking.
He sighed and she asked anxiously, “You do want children, don’t you, Valentine?”
“Yes, yes, I do. It is only that I never thought to be married…to be a father.”
He turned to her. “I suppose in my own way I am as bad as Will Tallman,” he admitted. “I didn’t believe a soldier should marry. Didn’t imagine I would ever find a woman who would be willing to follow the drum,” he said lightly.
“Well, you have found one,” she replied softly.
“It seems I have,” he answered, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “And you need not worry too much about the nose,” he teased. “It has been broken and is not quite as prominent as my father’s,” he added.
“Will you go see your father soon, Val?” she asked hesitantly, hating to disturb the easiness between them.
“I promised Charlie, Elspeth. I planned to visit Faringdon House tomorrow to see if he is still in town.”
“Do you wish me to come with you?”
“No, Elspeth. I thank you, but it is something I must do myself.” He leaned over and kissed her. “You are a good comrade, madame wife.”
Elspeth lay awake after he had fallen asleep. He had given her his body, this new husband of hers. He had helped her discover her own capacity for passion. But it seemed clear to her that for now, he came to her for pleasure and to hide himself in her. When would he let her love him? When would he let himself be found?
Chapter 30
As Val had predicted, the invitations started arriving the very next day, and after breakfast, over a second cup of tea, Elspeth began opening them.
“Here is one from the Duke and Duchess of Farron for a musicale,” she exclaimed.
“I think this is the most difficult assignment Grant ever sent me on,” Val complained. “I would rather face the French than attend a ton function,” he confessed, only half-humorously.
“I don’t look forward to it much more than you do, Val. I didn’t mind coming back for Maddie, but I never expected all this,” she said, waving her hand over the pile of invitations.
“I am sorry, Elspeth. I never dreamed you would be pulled into this charade.”
“I will look on it as my sacrifice for God and country,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. Then her face became serious. “Others have made far greater ones, after all.”
“Well, I will leave you to it, then,” said Val as he got up from the table. “I must make my call at Faringdon House.”
“I wish you well, Val,” she called after him.
* * * *
Val didn’t realize how much he was hoping that the door knocker would be missing until he got to St. James’s Square and saw it hanging just where it should be. Above it hung a black bow.
“What a coward I am,” he muttered as he stood there, unable to lift his hand. Finally he gave the door a few sharp raps.
“I am sorry, sir, His Lordship is not at home to anyone,” said Baynes, beginning to close the door in Val’s face.
“Perhaps you don’t remember me, Baynes? It is Valentine Aston and I have come to offer my condolences to my father.”
“Why, so it is you, sir!” said the old butler, his face reddening. “I am sorry. I will tell His Lordship you are here.”
He showed Val into the library, where a fire was crackling cheerfully. Val was too restless to sit, so he scanned the shelves, skimming over titles and anxiously awaiting the earl.
When he heard the door open, he turned. Even if the earl had been his worst enemy, he would have felt sympathy for him at the loss of his son, but he was surprised at how much he felt for the man who stood before him.
“Good morning, Valentine.”
“Good morning, my lord.”
Val had not seen his father in years and was surprised at how much he had aged. His blond hair was silvered and he looked thinner. His cheeks were lined and his nose even more prominent. He looks like an old eagle, Val thought.
It was clear that grief had affected him as much as age, for his eyes were red-rimmed and tired-looking and his mouth drawn.
“I came to offer my sympathy, my lord,” Val continued in a softer tone than he had ever used with his father.
“Please sit down, Valentine.” There were two chairs facing the fire and the earl took one, gesturing Val to the other. He sat silently for a moment, as if intent on finding some meaning in the flames or the shifting of the logs. “You were with Charlie?”
“Yes, sir. We were almost seven months behind the lines.”
“Ah, yes, the now-famous Lines of Torres Vedras. I always thought Wellington would one day display his genius. It seems he has finally done so.”
“He saved Portugal, and I am convinced we will take Spain.”
“Where did Charlie fall?” the earl asked bluntly.
“The French made a stand on the banks of the River Coa, sir, near a town called Sabugal. We forced them to retreat. Wellington himself said it was one of the most glorious actions his troops had ever engaged in.”
“So Charlie died gloriously? I suppose that should make me feel comforted, but it does not, Valentine, it does not,” said the earl, looking over at Val. “I don’t suppose you know how he died? The casualty lists tell nothing and I would like to know if he suffered much,” added the earl, his voice shaking.
“I was across the river on a reconnaissance mission, my lord, but I was able to find him after the battle.”
“Ah, yes, Charlie wrote me that you are one of Colquhoun Grant’s right-hand men. He was very proud of you. Always mentioned you in his letters. Was it quick, Valentine, or did he suffer?” The earl’s voice broke and his eyes were agonized. “I don’t think I could bear to know he suffered.”
“It was a saber thrust through the lung, sir. I think he would have died very quickly.”
“But not painlessly….”
“He wouldn’t have felt much,” Val said, hoping it was true.
The earl buried his face in his hands.
“Perhaps I should have lied, sir, but it would not have seemed respectful to Charlie. I can assure you he died a better death than many a soldier. His face…it seemed more surprised than suffering.”
“Thank God for that, then.”
“He gave me this before the battle, sir,” Val said, drawing out the Faringdon ring. “He didn’t want it lost or…. Anyway, he wanted me to give it to you personally, if anything happened to him.” Val slipped the ring off the chain and held it out.
The earl took it and turned it in his hand as though he had never seen it before. “The Faringdon crest,” he whispered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Worn by the heir for the last three hundred years.” The earl looked up and said with a great weariness, “It is yours, Valentine,” and held it out to Val.
“It is…was Charlie’s, my lord. It will now go to whoever is the rightful heir. I assume there is some cousin somewhere,” he added almost harshly.
“Yes, but you are my only surviving son, Valentine.” Before Val could reply, the earl got up and went over to his desk. “Unfortunately, I can’t legitimize you, but here….” he said, lifting a paper off the desk. “Here I formally recognize you as my son. That will give you a place in Society at least.”
Val was speechless. Now, now, his father would recognize him? And smile at him as though he’d given him something that Val had always wanted?
“I don’t want your bloody recognition, my lord. It is years too late,” he added, the steel in his voice as cutting as a sword.
“It is not the viscountcy, Valentine.”
“Charlie was your son, my lord.”
“As are you, and Charlie is dead. This is what he would have wished. He urged me to do it many times.”
“He wanted me at school with him and so you sent me. He wanted me to have a commission and you bought it for me. But this is one thing you can’t give me, my lord, for I won’t accept it.”
“I am not giving you a choice, Valentine. I will do this, whether you wish it or not, and not only for Charlie’s sake. I would have done it years ago, had you stayed.”
Val could hardly trust himself to speak. He stepped forward and put the ring on the desk. “Do whatever you like, my lord, but I cannot take this. I loved him too,” Val declared, his voice breaking. He was out the door before his father could stop him.
* * * *
It was a glorious May morning, but Val did not notice the cloudless blue sky or the pale green leaves on the trees, for he was still back in the library with his father. He walked at quick march pace and inside he was in a turmoil. After all these years, his father was ready to acknowledge him. Said he’d wanted to do it long ago. Then why didn’t you, while my mother was alive? Why didn’t you marry her instead of Charlie’s mother? But then, of course, there would have been no Charlie…. Val could feel the tears rising. He would not cry. He’d be damned if he’d cry. He found himself at the entrance to the park and he walked in and down one of the side paths. Although it was not the fashionable hour, there were quite a few riders and carriages. Once the terrible winter had eased its grip and the ice was gone, people who had been homebound for months were out enjoying their freedom.
Val stayed off the main paths as long as he could, but eventually he came out to one of the main thoroughfares. There was not the crush there would be later in the afternoon, but there were enough riders and carriages that he had to pay more attention to what was around him. He had just stepped aside to let a curricle pass, barely taking note of the dapple grays that drew it, when the driver drew up and called down to him.
“Val! Is that you? Whatever are you doing in London?”
It was James Lambert.
Val did his best to smile, although to him it felt more like a grimace. He had his excuse ready, of course.
“Good morning, James. I was given leave to visit my father and bring him something of Charlie’s.”
James motioned to his tiger and, handing him the reins, stepped down to walk beside Val. He put a sympathetic arm around Val’s shoulders. “It was devastating to hear the news, Val.”
James’s voice held a very real grief. He had known Charlie at school and university. In some ways, he knew him better than Val had. James’s palpable affection and his sorrow over Charlie’s death almost overset Val’s control. One of the hardest things about Charlie’s death had been that there was no one to mourn with. Everyone had loved Charlie, of course, but not many had known him as well as James.
“Thank you, James,” he said in a strained voice. “It means a great deal to k
now someone else misses him as much as I do.”
“I called on your father. He was devastated by the news,” James replied quietly. “Have you been to see him yet?”
“This morning,” Val said shortly.
“Surely you and he might grieve together?” James suggested gently.
“My father and I had very little in common besides Charlie. Now we have nothing.”
“I had a few reasons to be at odds with my father, Val, but despite that, I am glad I made my peace with him before he died.”
“You have always been a better-hearted man than I, James,” Val declared, looking over at him with a crooked smile. “You and Charlie shared that quality.”
“You are equally good-hearted, Val,” James replied seriously. “In fact, I am sure that your affections, once given, run very deep indeed. You just keep your feelings well-hidden.”
“He offered to…no, he is going to recognize me, James,” Val said bitterly.
James stopped and faced him. “I think that was very well done. You are his only son now.”
“He doesn’t want me as his son, James. He never wanted me. Oh, Charlie wanted me,” continued Val, putting his hand up to stop James’s protest. “The earl only brought me to Faringdon for his sake. It should have been me, James, not Charlie,” Val continued, his voice raw with pain. “He was sunny and gay and openhearted and all who knew him loved him.”
“It was hard not to love Charlie,” James admitted with a sweet smile.
“And I am a hard and hidden-hearted fellow,” continued Val in a voice even he could tell was full of self-pity as well as real pain.
“If I didn’t care about you, Valentine, I would wash my hands of you right now,” said James, with such vehemence that Val knew there was nothing humorous in his words at all. “You are a brave and resourceful soldier, and a good friend, but you are the most blind and stubborn fool when it comes to your father. You were born out of wedlock. So were many others. Some are born even worse. We have no choice over how and where and to whom we are born, but we can choose how to live our lives. It is high time you came to terms with your birth, Val. It is something we all have to do,” James added, his voice tight with anger and something else.
Red, Red Rose Page 28