A Regency Charade (8 page)

He was surprised by the strong tug of pity in his chest, and he frowned at himself in annoyance. Why should he pity
her
? It was
he
who’d been made to suffer!

He forced himself to turn away from her. He had no wish to see her waken and catch him staring like a moonling at her face. He bit his lip in self-disgust. How had he come here? Had that fellow—what was his name? Horner? Hornbeam?—brought him here? Well, it was too late now to worry about the means. What was important now was to get out before she wakened. He was certainly in no condition to face her today.

He looked down at himself to examine the state of his dress. He was in shirtsleeves. His coat and boots had been removed and his shirt unbuttoned at the neck. A quick glance around the room revealed that his missing articles of clothing had been neatly placed on a chair near the sofa. He tiptoed over to it, picked up his coat, put it on and buttoned it as quickly as his shaking fingers could manage. Then he silently picked up his boots and shako and carried them stealthily to the door.

“
Alec
?” Her voice was sharp with alarm. “What …? Are you all right?”

He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn. “Yes.”

She gave a nervous little laugh. “I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to …”

He lowered his head. “I’m … sorry about this. I didn’t intend to … to disturb you.”

He could hear her draw in her breath. “
Disturb
me? You weren’t … you
couldn’t
be … thinking of
leaving
?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of silence. “B-But …” The catch in her voice was quite noticeable, although it was plain she was making an effort to control it. “I haven’t laid eyes on you in
s-six years
!”

He gave no answer. He merely reached out and put his hand on the doorknob.

She uttered a frightened little cry, jumped up and ran across the room to confront him. “Alec,
no
! You
can’t
be so unkind as to leave before … before we’ve had a chance to … to talk to one another!”

He turned to face her, his eyes cold and his lips set in a harsh frown. “There isn’t anything to talk about, ma’am,” he said with finality.

She put her back against the door in a desperate attempt to block him. “You can’t be serious! We’ve
everything
to talk about!”

Alec winced. What a time to be thrust into a confrontation! Little hammers were pounding behind his temples, his eyes burned, his tongue felt thick and his brain was sluggish. To make matters worse, he was standing before her in his stockinged feet, completely lacking in dignity. He simply
had
to get out of there. “I don’t think,” he declared as firmly as his impaired physical condition permitted, “that a conversation between us is at all obligatory.”

“But it
is
,” she insisted. “You’ve never given me the opportunity to
explain
—”

“I have no wish to hear any explanations, ma’am. Believe me, they are quite unnecessary.”

“How can you say so when you don’t even know what they
are
?” she demanded with some asperity. “And I wish you will stop calling me
ma’am
in that odious way, as if I were your maiden aunt!”

“I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly, shifting the awkwardly held boots from his right hand to his left underarm. “I have no wish to offend. Please give me leave to withdraw.”

“But … don’t you have any interest in what I’ve been waiting six years to tell you?” she asked incredulously.

He raised an eyebrow and looked down at her in icy detachment. “After all this time, there doesn’t seem to be much point. Your explanations can scarcely matter very much now, you know.”

This bluntly cold response made her gasp. “Wh-What do you
mean
? Surely the preservation of our marriage is a matter of some importance to you!”

“Our marriage, ma’am,” he said with withering scorn, “means less than nothing to me.”

His words smote her like physical blows. She whitened, and her eyes, widening with a questioning horror, flew up to his. She stared at him as if he were a monstrous stranger, some sort of malevolent creature who had mysteriously inhabited her husband’s body. Alec didn’t know what to make of her obvious and unexpected vulnerability to his slurs. He was confused, puzzled and quite miserable, and he wanted only to tear his eyes from hers and run from the room. But he didn’t permit himself to move a muscle. He would not reveal, by word or gesture, the slightest intimation of weakness. He would prove to himself and to her that he’d achieved at least
some
measure of strength and self-mastery in his years in military service.

As if she read this unyielding message in his face, her eyes wavered and fell. She pressed her trembling lips together and walked blindly away from the door. He watched her as she moved unsteadily toward the sofa. Her shoulders sagged pathetically, and her thin form seemed to shiver. Unaccountably, he was smitten with guilt. He felt an almost overpowering urge to offer her comfort and protection. But confound it, why
should
he? Let
Edmonds
comfort her!
He
was the man she loved, wasn’t he?

It was all so blasted confusing! Alec couldn’t understand why she hadn’t permitted Newkirk to arrange to release her from the marriage; she could have wed Edmonds years ago! It was certainly a question he would have liked to have answered, but he was scarcely in a frame of mind at this moment to investigate anything, to make sense of anything, or to consider anything. What he needed was to find his way to the Fenton, to pull off his deucedly confining uniform and have Kellam, his batman, give him something for his head. “Am I now excused, ma’am?” he asked, making his voice harsh and unfeeling.

She made a small, hopeless gesture of acquiescence with her hand. He bowed briefly and turned once more to the door. But once more her voice stopped him. “I shall sign no papers,
sir
,” she said with trembling anger, “until you and I have had a full discussion of everything that’s happened.”

He hesitated. Their brief exchange this morning had been quite painful enough; he had no desire to subject himself to an even lengthier and more emotional interview. However, if that was to be the price required to sever their legal ties, he supposed he’d have to agree. “As you wish, ma’am,” he said curtly.

A little sob sounded deep in her throat. “
N-None
of this is as I w-wish,” she murmured brokenly.

“Damn it, Priss,” he burst out angrily, his nerves rubbed raw, “stop acting as if all this were
my
fault!”

She looked up quickly, her face suddenly eager. This was an Alec she could almost recognize—angry and boyish and calling her by name. Not the icy stranger of a moment ago. “Oh, Alec! Of
course
it wasn’t your fault. I
never
said … It was all
mine
! If only you’d let me
tell
you—!”

She’d jumped to her feet as she spoke and was approaching him again. He took a hasty step backward, dropping his hat awkwardly, and held up a restraining hand. “No! Don’t! I don’t want to
hear
—”

“But … why not? Alec, you can’t have become so entirely heartless as to—”

He put a weary hand to his forehead and shut his eyes. “Priss, please! Not now. I’m not up to this now. I’ve already agreed to discuss matters at … at some future time, haven’t I? But at this moment, I’m in no condition to … that is, I … really must go.”

Her eagerness faded, and she turned away again. “I see. I’m … sorry,” she said dejectedly. “Will you come back soon?”

“Well, I—”

“Tomorrow?”

“
Tomorrow
?” The alarm in his voice was unmistakable. “No … no. Not for a while …”

“How long? A week?”

He picked up the shako and turned to the door. “I don’t know,” he said, not looking back at her. “I’m not certain. A … month or two …”

She gasped. “A
month
?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps sooner. I shall … send Mr. Newkirk to arrange it.” He threw her a brief glance. “I wish you good day, ma’am,” he said firmly and was gone.

Priss stared blankly at the door he’d closed behind him. For a second or two she felt almost like laughing. This had not been a scene quite like the one she’d envisioned. Not quite. After six years of empty and agonized waiting, this …
fizzle
had been the result. She admitted to herself that she had not really believed the foolish imaginings of the night before would truly come to pass, but neither did she dream her reunion with her husband would turn out to be such an utter, hopeless
failure
!

But she didn’t laugh. The waves of desolation that washed over her were not conducive to laughter. She would have liked to experience the blessed relief of a flood of tears, but they didn’t come either. She couldn’t seem to cry. The well seemed to have chosen the worst time to go dry at last. She couldn’t even bring herself to get out of the room. She could only stand there immobile and stare at the door, empty, benumbed, and as wretched as it was possible for anyone to be.

Chapter Six

The Fenton Hotel, while considered a stylish address for tonnish visitors to London, was not the place for a war-weary, emotionally fatigued soldier to find solace and peace. It was noisy and overcrowded, full of bustling servants jostling each other in the corridors and arrogant guests constantly shouting for their attention. After one night under its roof, Alec decided he’d had quite enough of the place. The only balm which would soothe his jangled nerves, he decided, was the smell of country air.
Braeburn
was the place to be. Braeburn, where he could see his grandfather again. The sight of that beloved old face, the sound of the Earl’s voice, the down-to-earth practicality of his words—those more than anything else would bring ease to his troubled mind.

Harry Kellam, the quick-witted, energetic little cockney who’d been his batman while he’d been abroad and who’d asked to remain in his service after the war, made a wry face when he learned of the Captain’s plan. “Queers me why ye’d want to go to the country, Cap’n. Nothin’s there but trees an’ ’ills,” he complained as he moved busily about Alec’s bedroom putting away his freshly laundered linen.

“And what have you here in town that’s better?” Alec asked, knowing quite well that the answer would be outrageous.

The batman grinned roguishly. “
You
know, guv. Grog an’ bobbery an’ straw-’ats by the dozens.”

Alec raised an amused eyebrow. “Girls, eh? By the dozens? I envy you, Kellam. Perhaps I
shouldn’t
drag you off. Drink and mischief you can probably find anywhere, but
dozens
of girls may not be so easy to come by in the country, even for a lover as gifted as yourself.”

“Oh, I ain’t such a gifted lover ’s all that,” the batman demurred, patting his shaggy moustache with a modesty born of supreme self-confidence. “I on’y use a wheedle or two t’ turn ’em up sweet.”

“Do you indeed?” Alec asked interestedly. “You wouldn’t care to
share
the secrets of your prowess, would you?”

“Why not?” Kellam said generously. “All I do is t’ be free an’ easy wiv me brass and t’ carry on a bit … er … impudent wiv ’em, y’ might say.”

Alec guffawed. “Well, when it comes to impudence, you’re the best of the lot. Is that really all it takes to win the ladies—a pocketful of brass and a good supply of impudence? I must remember that.”

Kellam frowned at his Captain in disapproval. “’Oo said anythin’ about
ladies
? Straw-’ats is one thing an’ ladies another. Besides, y’ already ’
as
yer lady, if I might be so bold as t’ remind ye.”

Alec’s grin faded and his expression grew remote. “You may
not
be so bold. May I remind
you
that my ‘lady’ as you call her, is not a subject for discussion? Now, if we may return to the problem at hand, I suppose I’d be showing you unwarranted cruelty to take you away from your London amusements—”

“’Old on there, Cap’n. No need t’ take on. If y’ve took it into yer noddle to go to Derbyshire, ye won’t see me bawlin’. I’m a lad as gets on anywhere I light.”

“So you do. But there’s no need at all for such a sacrifice. We can’t have half the straw-hats of London weeping in bereavement over your absence. It would be better if you remained behind.”

Kellam drew himself up in offended dignity. “I thank ye fer yer kindness, guv, but I don’t take it as such. If
ye’re
goin’ to the country,
I’m
goin’!”

“Come down from your high ropes, man. I’ll only be gone a week. You may as well stay in town with your grog and your girls and, if you can find some spare time, you might look round for some suitable rooms for us to move into when I return.”

The batman shrugged in reluctant acquiescence. Then he fixed a lugubrious eye on his employer. “Ain’t ye
never
goin’ back to Tyrrell ’Ouse, then?”

Alec glared at him. “I’ve already
told
you I’m not,” he said shortly, “so you may as well cease your nagging.”

“Suit yerself, guv’nor, suit yerself,” Kellam muttered, moving in a casual but speedy fashion to the door as he spoke, “but a gent what dreams of a lady an’ speaks ’er name out loud in ’is sleep, and then don’t even go t’ see ’er when ’e ’as the chance—well, I call ’im a dam—” But he swung the door quickly behind him before Alec could hear the unflattering epithet that issued from his lips and before the cushion that Alec had thrown at him could reach its target.

A short while later, Kellam stuck his head in the door again. “Gent ’ere t’ see ye. Name of Isaiah Hornbeck. Are ye in?”

“Oh! That’s the fellow who took care of me when I was drunk. Hornbeck! I wonder what he …” He rose from the armchair in which he’d been lounging with his copy of the
Times
and followed Kellam from the room. “Mr. Hornbeck,” he greeted him warmly as they shook hands, “however did you find me?”

“Lady Vickers gave me yer direction,” Hornbeck replied, twisting his hat in his hand uncomfortably.

“Lady Vickers? I didn’t even know she was in London. How did
she
know—?”