by Cheryl Holt
“How did you meet him?”
“I bumped into him when I was out shopping.”
“How old is he?”
“About the same age as James.”
“Have you been to his villa?”
“Not yet, but he’s promised me a tour.”
“Please swear you won’t visit him alone.”
Brinley rolled her eyes. “Don’t fret about it. I certainly don’t intend to.”
She pranced off, and Amelia blew out a heavy breath. She wasn’t Brinley’s mother, sister, or chaperone, so she had no position of authority with regard to her. But if she could have managed it, she’d have locked Brinley away forever to keep her safe. She was destined for such a bad end, but she didn’t realize that disasters could strike a female who wasn’t cautious.
Amelia glanced around, looking for Captain Hastings, but he was nowhere to be found. Brinley’s revelation gave her the perfect excuse to talk to him.
Since the night they’d misbehaved in the kitchen, she hadn’t seen him. That next morning, when she’d crawled out of bed to begin her day, she’d been on pins and needles, wondering how they’d interact, but she hadn’t needed to worry about her virtue or her choices or how she’d carry on with him.
He’d been avoiding her like the plague, and she couldn’t figure out why. Had he not enjoyed their flirtation? He’d been frank with her in confessing his personal troubles. Was he embarrassed at having shared so much intimate information? Or—perhaps—had he not been as thrilled by the encounter as she’d been?
Whatever the reason, he was such a shadow in the house that she’d had to send a note to the stables to apprise him that they were having a party. He’d replied in writing too, simply jotting it’s fine with me on her original note and conveying it back to her.
She hadn’t known if he’d show up for it, and she’d convinced herself that he wouldn’t, but he’d strolled in a bit earlier. She’d caught a glimpse of him and that was it. The oaf was such a barbarian that he hadn’t bothered to say hello.
She ought to be glad he was shunning her, but she couldn’t deny being hurt. Why would she be though? What was wrong with her? She was in Gibraltar to start over. In the process, she’d sworn off men. All men! Just because a handsome soldier had crossed her path, she didn’t have to melt like a silly debutante.
She mingled in the crowd, drinking punch and chatting. When she saw an empty wine decanter, she went to the kitchen to refill it. There was a pantry where they kept extra supplies. Without thinking, she opened the door and walked in.
Though there was no light in the small room, she could clearly observe Captain Hastings kissing a girl as if they were the last two humans who would ever kiss. The embrace was torrid and salacious and infuriating, and if Amelia had been holding a candle, she’d have dropped it. She wished she could vanish into thin air, but there was no chance of that.
The amorous pair was so involved that they didn’t immediately notice her. Ultimately, they pulled apart and peered over. The girl was a senior officer’s niece, twenty or so and not that fetching. She was mulish and triumphant, as if she was proud of her conduct and delighted to have Amelia witness it. Was she eager for Amelia to tell the world so she could snag the Captain for her own?
As to Captain Hastings, he grinned, and his expression seemed to say, What did you expect from me?
Amelia was inordinately crushed, but she couldn’t deduce why. She had no designs on him, and they’d made no promises. In fact, she barely knew him.
But she felt as if they were incredibly attuned. She felt as if he belonged to her.
Had their prior assignation meant nothing to him? Had he been affected in even the slightest manner? Evidently not.
She was such a dunce, such a fool. Where men were concerned, would she ever learn?
“Pardon me,” she mumbled, and she whipped away and stomped out.
She didn’t close the door or peek back to discover if they exited the room. Most likely, they would start in again. Why not? He had no connection to Amelia, and he’d definitely been enjoying himself. Why would he stop?
The empty wine decanter forgotten, she hurried out to the front parlor, and as she reached her chair by the wall, she was practically staggering.
Mrs. Bennett came over and sat down too. Amelia must have appeared wretched because Mrs. Bennett inquired, “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost. I…ah…stumbled on a sight I shouldn’t have.”
“I hope it wasn’t too shocking. I probably should have warned you about dark corners in Gibraltar. We’re all a long way from home, and not everyone is chaperoned as carefully as they should be.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Amelia fumed.
Mrs. Bennett leaned nearer and whispered, “What did you see? Or should I ask, who did you see? I’m dying with curiosity.”
Amelia was too upset to be circumspect. “Captain Hastings was kissing a girl in the pantry.”
Mrs. Bennett wrinkled her nose. “He’s famous for that sort of activity.”
“Is he a philanderer?”
“Yes. In that, he’s just like his father who was a notorious libertine. The Hastings men have a despicable history with the ladies.” Mrs. Bennett patted Amelia’s wrist. “The women here have wanted to tell you, but we weren’t sure how.”
At the news, Amelia was aghast. “People are talking about me?”
“It’s a small place, and gossip abounds. It’s not the wisest decision to live in a house with him, even if he’s rarely present.”
“He demanded it!”
“He would, wouldn’t he?”
“His sister is a handful. He asked me to mind her for him.”
Mrs. Bennett scoffed with derision. “How is that going?”
Amelia chuckled miserably. “It’s awful.”
“I’ve been watching her. She doesn’t seem the type who listens to anyone.”
“You’re correct. She doesn’t.”
“And her reputation has followed her to Gibraltar. She’s trouble.”
“I’ve put myself in the thick of the Hastings family’s problems.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Bennett studied the guests, then murmured, “Have you considered that this might not be the best arrangement for you?”
“I’m beginning to wonder about it.”
“It might be better for you to move.”
“Yes, it might.”
“I’ll visit you tomorrow. We can discuss some options.”
“I’d like that.”
The musicians’ break was over, and they were tuning their instruments. Mrs. Bennett strolled off to encourage revelers to come inside and dance again.
Amelia took that moment to walk the other way, to slip out into the balmy night where she could speculate in private over why she was such an idiot.
* * * *
James stepped into the kitchen. It was late, the house quiet. Brinley and Laura were upstairs in bed, the servants having left for the evening. As he’d hoped, Miss Boyle was still up, and he’d caught her before she went to bed too.
She was attired in her nightgown and robe, her hair down and brushed out. He could barely keep from rushing over to riffle his fingers through the soft strands.
“Hello, Miss Boyle,” he said as he entered the room.
She’d filled a basin with hot water so she could wash. It was sitting on the baker’s table, and she was about to dip a cloth in it. On hearing him, she didn’t turn around, which irked him. He never liked to be ignored.
“Go away,” she muttered.
“No.” He marched over so he was standing next to her. “It was a terrific party.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I’m not much for socializing.”
“So I discovered.”
Since their romantic foray, he’d deliberately avoided her, even though he recognized his conduct to be cru
el and callous, but their tryst had rattled him. He’d liked it very much. He liked her very much, but he wasn’t a fellow any respectable girl should fancy.
He consorted with women for one reason and one reason only, that being physical dalliance. He kissed and played and generally misbehaved, and when he was seriously forlorn, he visited the taverns down by the harbor where there was a fine array of experienced whores.
Amelia Boyle wasn’t a female who carried on with scoundrels. In her world, if a young lady pursued an amour, marriage awaited at the end of her road.
She’d had a taste of disaster when she’d almost eloped and her cad had jilted her. She likely thought it had been a fluke, that such a rogue was a rare animal, but she was wrong. He was exactly the same as her unreliable suitor. The sole difference between them was that James didn’t make false promises.
He would trifle in any salacious fashion, just so he didn’t cross any boundaries that would leave him in a jam. No woman would ever rope him into matrimony.
He picked up the cloth and tried to swab it over her neck. She was irritated with him though, and she shoved him away.
She scowled at him. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“You can talk to me during the day. You don’t get to accost me when I’m alone and undressed.”
“I like you best like this.”
“I’m exhausted. Goodnight.”
She attempted to skirt by him, but he’d had just enough whiskey to be an ass. He shifted too, blocking her in, and he leaned nearer and pressed her to the table. Suddenly, the front of his body was crushed to the front of hers, and it was thrilling to be so close to her again.
Every minute they’d been apart, he’d been miserable, and his torso, down to the smallest pore, seemed to shiver with gladness.
“Move,” she fumed.
“No.”
“Move!”
She pushed him, but it had no effect. He’d let her go when he was ready and not before. He was being a bully. He realized that he was, but he couldn’t help himself.
When he’d learned she was hosting a party, he’d been happy for her. Victoria Bennett was a perfect person to take charge of her, to introduce her. The gathering was a quick and easy way for her to meet scores of people, but he didn’t need to meet any of them, and he hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t like to socialize.
He was better around his horses. He was more content.
He hadn’t meant to stop by the party, but he’d kept thinking about her, wondering what she was wearing and who might be flirting with her. He’d assumed she’d be a marvelous dancer and the men would line up to have her as a partner.
The notion had aggravated him in a manner he didn’t like, so he’d slinked in, but he’d been determined to demonstrate that he hadn’t come merely to see her. He hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t asked her to dance. Then he’d snuck off with that slattern, and Miss Boyle had caught him.
Though it was absurd, he was swamped with guilt, as if he’d betrayed her. She was furious, and he understood why, but he couldn’t figure out how to raise the subject so they could discuss it and he could apologize.
He didn’t completely comprehend why he’d dabbled with the annoying tart. She’d thrown herself at him at several events, and he’d finally relented, but for the entire dalliance, he’d been bored silly and wishing he’d been with Miss Boyle instead.
It was as if he’d been trying to prove that he wasn’t smitten by her, that he didn’t want to involve himself, but his idiotic rendezvous with someone else hadn’t worked. He simply felt awful and in the wrong.
“You’re irked with me,” he said.
“I’d have to care about you to be irked.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
He sniffed the skin at her nape. He loved how she smelled, but she bristled with offense and actually punched him in the center of his chest to get his attention.
“We’re not doing this,” she said, “and I’m going to bed.”
He set his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the table. With the new positioning, they were eye to eye.
“You’re angry,” he said, “and you might as well admit it and tell me why—or I won’t cease pestering you.”
“I’ve been informed that you have a sordid reputation as a libertine.”
“Didn’t I mention it?”
“Yes, but I presumed you were joking. You might have warned me of your notoriety. I’ve likely wrecked my social standing in Gibraltar before it’s had time to take root.”
“I’m not concerned in the slightest about social standing.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re rude and obnoxious. It would never occur to you that I might be imperiled by wallowing in your company.”
“You’re not imperiled. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m moving out, and I’m not sorry if it leaves you without a jailor for your sister. She doesn’t listen to me anyway, so staying with you is pointless.”
“It’s not pointless, and I like having you here.”
“That can’t possibly be true. You’re never home. You’re not grateful for anything I do, and I’ve had enough.”
“You’re not moving,” he insisted.
“It’s not up to you.”
“Stop being such a shrew.”
“A shrew! How dare you call me names!”
He frowned. “That didn’t come out right. I simply mean that you’re complaining for no reason.”
“No reason! You were with a doxy in the pantry. Would you like to explain yourself to me?”
“I never turn down what a female freely offers.”
“Your reply is exactly the response I expected from you.”
His frown deepened. “That didn’t come out right either. I must have had too much to drink.”
“You’re a certifiable, unlikable ass, and you’re blaming it on the liquor?”
“Yes.”
She snorted with disgust, and for an eternity, she stared at the floor. She was particularly tormented, and when she raised her gaze to his again, she had tears in her eyes.
“I thought we were friends,” she said.
“We are.”
“I thought we might be…ah…ah…” She cut off, then grumbled, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Tell me.”
She silently debated whether to continue, and apparently, she’d been boiling with comments that needed to spill out. “The other night, when I rubbed ointment on your leg, I believed it created a bond between us.”
“It was very nice. I won’t deny it.”
“It was nice? Is that all you have to say about it?”
“What would you like me to say?”
“I want you to say that it was important to you.”
“It was important. I never show anyone my scars.”
“That’s it? You showed me your scars? And what?”
“And…nothing.”
“Ooh, you are such an annoying prig. Let me go to bed.”
“Not yet.” He had a thousand remarks bubbling too, but he swallowed them down. Previously, he’d been much too effusive with her, and he didn’t intend to be so talkative ever again.
“I’m not the man you think I am,” he said.
“I disagree. You’re precisely who I think you are. You’re boorish and overbearing and a bit cruel too, and I can’t abide the male arrogance that oozes out of you. I really can’t.”
She was so miserable, and he hated to observe her woe. He dipped down and kissed her, but she groaned and yanked away. She glared at him with an enormous amount of revulsion, then she insulted him by swiping a hand across her lips, as if wiping away his taste.
“The last time I saw you,” she seethed, “you were kissing a trollop! Your mouth was pressed to hers!”
“Don’t be distressed by any of
my antics. I’m not worth it.”
“I already figured that out.”
“I’m not reliable or dependable. Women always want me, but they shouldn’t.”
“That’s not news to me, and I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself.”
“Why?”
“I came to Gibraltar to regroup and remember what sort of person I am on the inside. You’re the first man who glanced in my direction, and I threw myself at you. I’m stupid and ridiculous and very, very naïve.”
“In my view, you’re quite grand.”
“Shut up, Captain Hastings.”
She slid off the table, and though he reached for her, she shrunk away so he couldn’t touch her.
“I’ll begin making arrangements to move tomorrow morning,” she said. “Once my plans are in place, I’ll apprise you so you can decide what to do with Brinley and Laura.”
“They’re going home in a few weeks. I’ve booked their passage.”
“Well…good. In the interim, you might speak to Brinley about a foreigner she’s met named Conte Corpetto. He’s an Italian nobleman, and she’s developed a fondness for him.”
“How would she have accomplished that?”
“How could I guess, Captain? Your sister has problems, but they are not mine to solve.”
She whipped away and stomped to her room.
“You’re not moving,” he insisted again. “I won’t let you.”
She laughed with derision. “You should have your ears checked, Captain, for it appears you haven’t heard a word I said.”
She slammed her door and spun the key in the lock.
He dawdled, feeling lonely and foolish and wondering why he’d bothered with her. He hadn’t told her anything he’d truly yearned to tell her. He hadn’t told her how much he’d enjoyed their prior dalliance, how kind she’d been, how little sympathy he’d ever received in his life, how rarely a woman had ever fussed over him.
He wanted to share an evening like that with her again, but he had no idea how to bring it about.
He scoffed at his idiocy and stormed out, headed for his barn and his horses where he knew the rules and never worried over how to proceed. The horses didn’t sass or chastise him either. Why wouldn’t he pick them over her?