When Love Is Enough (9 page)

"Are you warm enough?"

He smiled. "Yes. Fine."

"I wouldn’t want you to catch your death. Austin would never forgive us."

"There’s no chance of that. The winters in England are balmy compared to what we endured in the Crimea."

"It must have been terrible."

He refused to let his mind go back to that place and instead, slid to the edge of the bench to make room for her. "Would you care to sit down?"

"Yes, thank you."

She sat beside him and straightened her skirts. Having her so near sent molten heat waves rushing to every part of him. He turned on the bench so he could see her more clearly and clutched his hand to his thigh when a sharp pain shot through him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, fine. Just a twinge." He ignored the pain in his leg. "How was your afternoon?" he said finally. "Harrison said you went out."

"Yes. I had tea with the Duchess of Westwood."

"How nice."

She smiled. "We had a lovely time. Baroness Frendsdale was also there with her daughters, Emmeline Frendsdale and her sister Augusta. They’ve both been friends of mine since our come-out." She gave him an impish smile. "I hope you don’t mind, but I promised them an introduction tonight."

"It will be my pleasure."

"You’re quite the hero, you know. Nearly the entire conversation this afternoon centered around you and your heroic deeds to save our country."

"I hope you dissuaded such misplaced heroism. I’m hardly worthy of such praise."

"Oh, no." She broadened her smile. "If anything, I embellished your noble deeds. I made you out to be even more superhuman than the rumors circulating about you. I fear I implied you’d almost single-handedly defeated the entire Russian army."

"That’s frightening." He shook his head. "Then I’d best be prepared to quell such unfounded rumors. I only pray that because it’s barely the first of the year, there won’t be that many in attendance tonight."

"Oh, no. Members of the nobility are returning to London in droves for the opening of Parliament next month. Geoffery... I mean the Marquess of Culbertson, has gone to meetings nearly every night this week in preparation. It’s a very exciting time of year."

Gabriel ignored the intimacy with which Lydia referred to the marquess. "I don’t suppose I can pretend an illness of some sort between now and this evening?"

"I should say not. I daresay, the Duke of Chisolmwood wouldn’t allow it."

Gabriel’s fingers tightened around the handle on his cane. "No, I don’t suppose he would."

She glanced at his hands, then turned on the bench until she faced him. "What happened between you and Chisolmwood? What was that about a note that you demanded in payment for your appearance tonight?"

Gabriel shook his head. "It was nothing."

"That’s what Harrison said when I asked him, but I am Harrison’s younger sister. He’s always had an irritating habit of protecting me from things he doesn’t want me to know. You, on the other hand, never considered me so fragile you needed to keep things from me, Gabriel. Please, don’t start now."

He cocked his head in her direction. His gaze met hers and a warmth spread through his body that settled low in his gut. "Then I won’t. I’ll simply tell you it’s none of your business."

"Very well." She tucked her hands inside her cloak. "If that’s how you feel."

"That’s how it has to be, Liddy. Nothing more. Nothing less." He placed his cane out in front of him again. "Now, we’d best go inside. You’re getting cold."

"And you need to rest a bit before you face your throng of admirers."

"Yes. Harrison informed me we’d be leaving early." He stood on wobbly legs. "We don’t want to cause the Duke of Chisolmwood undue anxiety by being tardy."

She stood first and turned. "Do you want me to call for help?"

He shook his head. "I’m getting quite accomplished as long as I don’t have to stand too long."

He took one shaky step, then another. His leg was stiff from sitting in the cold for so long, but eventually he felt as if it would support him. He took another step and felt her hand touch his elbow. The gesture made him smile. "Don’t attempt to catch me if I fall," he said with a hint of laughter in his voice, although he was serious.

"Are you afraid I’m not strong enough to catch you?"

"I think you are brave enough to try. But I don’t want to risk hurting you."

"Would that that had been your feelings before."

Gabriel stumbled, then righted himself. For several long seconds he focused on a squirrel scampering from tree to tree. He knew he should ignore her barb. He
had
hurt her. Although the fault wasn’t his, it didn’t lessen the pain he’d caused her.

He tried to take another step forward but couldn’t. He couldn’t leave things as they were. With a heart heavy in his chest, he turned toward her and looked into her eyes. Even though it had been nearly a year and a half, the hurt was still there. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers down her silky cheek.

Her skin was soft and velvety, her cheeks cool and rosy red from the chill in the air. Or it might have been from the closeness they shared. He couldn’t tell.

"I’m sorry, Liddy. If there had been any other choice a year ago, I wouldn’t have hurt you."

Frown lines deepened across her forehead, the confused look in her eyes indicating she didn’t understand.

"Then why did you?"

"Because I didn’t have a choice."

"You mean because I wouldn’t come with a dowry if we married against Father’s wishes."

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The crestfallen expression told him she had her answer.

She stepped away from him and shuddered a small gasp. She stood there a moment, then turned her head, and Gabriel knew it was too late. It had been too late from the moment he’d walked away from her in this same garden a little more than a year ago.

On legs that trembled beneath him, he walked away from her again. Only this time the hurt was more intense than it had been the last time.

___

He looked around the crowded ballroom and shifted the weight from his injured leg. Only two hours had passed since they’d arrived and already he felt as if this night would never end.

The ball was a smashing success. Everyone who’d crowded into Chisolmwood’s elegant townhouse remarked on it. And the Duke of Chisolmwood preened as proudly as if the Queen were his honored guest instead of an injured army major. He hated every second he was forced to add to the duke’s exalted reputation.

Even though Chisolmwood’s townhouse was one of the larger, more elaborate homes on London’s fashionable West End, the crowd was so huge there was hardly room to move. Everyone who was anyone was there. Those who hadn’t returned to the city earlier in the month had made certain to arrive in time to attend the gala event. It promised to be an evening that would be talked about for weeks to come.

He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

He pulled his attention back to the topic the growing group of men surrounding him discussed. He’d not been alone all evening. There’d been a crush vying for his attention since the first guests had arrived. For several hours he’d been forced to listen to the men expound on the virtues of a war they considered Britain had won when they didn’t have the vaguest idea why they’d chosen to fight. And not one of them could fathom how horrendous the conditions had been.

He breathed a labored sigh and leaned his hip against a tall stool a footman had placed nearby. Wherever he went, a liveried servant magically appeared with a stool tall enough for him to lean against so he could keep the full weight off his leg. He preferred to think that Lydia had arranged for his comfort and not Chisolmwood.

He thought of Liddy and searched for her. She was near the double French doors talking with a group of young ladies. Bloody hell, but she was a beauty.

She’d pulled her hair loosely back from her face with a dark velvet ribbon that intertwined amid the curls that cascaded down her back. She looked stunning in a gown of the deepest green imaginable. The color made her skin glow with a pearlescent luster and the style accentuated her lush figure. The flickering candles from the chandeliers cast a halo around her and his body reacted as dangerously as it had two weeks ago when Harrison and Chisolmwood had walked in on them.

She laughed. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and her cheeks flushed brightly, whether from the heat or from excitement, he didn’t know. None of the other females here could compare. But it wasn’t just her beauty that set her apart. It was her intelligence and her strength and the way she carried herself that made her so special. She would make the perfect duchess for the future duke.

He looked for the elusive Marquess of Culbertson. Even though they’d never met, he was certain he’d recognize him. Lydia had described him often enough: tall of stature, blond good looks, striking carriage, and the aura of authority Gabriel knew would surround him. No, he hadn’t arrived yet. There were several young men hovering close by, but none of them resembled the paragon of manliness Culbertson was reported to be.

Gabriel was glad. Hearing Lydia describe him with such glowing enthusiasm was one thing. Putting a face to the man who would one day have a right to hold the woman he loved, touch her, make love to her, was another.

So, he watched her from afar, drinking in his fill of her, feasting on every perfect detail, memorizing the way she looked so he could recall her image when he was no longer able to see her.

As if she realized he watched her, she turned her head and their gazes locked. She smiled, then hooked her gloved hand through the arm of one of the other young ladies standing near her and pulled her friend toward him. Dozens of heads turned to watch them.

The young woman with Lydia was as dark as Lydia was fair. Her hair gleamed just a shade darker than the richest piece of polished mahogany Gabriel had ever seen. She was a little taller than Lydia and her build was perhaps a little fuller, but one couldn’t help but be in awe of her beauty.

He stood as they approached, willing his screaming thigh muscle to silence itself.

"Major Talbot," Lydia said when she reached him. "Allow me to present Lady Emmeline Frendsdale. Emmeline, Major Gabriel Talbot."

"Lady Emmeline."

"Major Talbot, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you." She leaned forward and spoke softly. "I refuse to mention your heroism though, unless you want me to bring the subject up
again
."

He smiled. "No, I prefer you don’t."

"As I thought." There was an intelligent gleam in her eyes. "I couldn’t help but notice that you seem decidedly uncomfortable with the attention everyone showers on you."

"I am forever in your debt." He smiled first at Lady Emmeline, then at Lydia.

Lydia stepped forward and nodded to a nearby footman. The liveried servant discreetly moved the stool closer to Gabe.

"Please, sit down, Major." Lydia glanced toward the stool. "I told Emmeline that you’d been monopolized long enough with talk of war and battles and the happenings in different parts of the world. You appear in need of a respite."

"You always were an astute observer." Gabriel leaned against the stool. "Are you ladies enjoying the evening?"

"Oh, yes," Emmeline added. "I can’t remember there ever having been such a crush at an affair except at the height of the season. The duke has you to thank for giving him the distinction of hosting the affair of the year."

Even though Gabriel knew it was true, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He clenched his jaw in frustration. "Yes, it’s too bad the Marquess of Culbertson isn’t here to enjoy it."

"He’ll be here," Lydia said with a confident smile on her face. "He had an important meeting and was obviously detained."

Gabriel expected Lydia to be anxious for Culbertson to arrive, but only Lady Emmeline glanced toward the stairs. He thought he might comment on Liddy’s lack of interest but the Marquess of Bendendine and the Earl of Canesport chose that moment to interrupt.

"The
Chancellor’s Lady
docked this morning with more soldiers returning from the Crimea," Bendendine said, placing one hand on his protruding stomach. "It won’t be long before we have all our boys home."

Gabriel pulled his attention away from Lydia and Lady Emmeline. "Yes. Except for the young men who will never return."

Bendendine cleared his throat. "Yes, well, that is the tragedy of war. There will always be fatalities."

"But I dare say we showed them where the strength in Europe lay," the slightly inebriated Canesport slurred. "The Russians should never have been so foolish as to think they could battle us and win."

That remark was followed by the enthusiastic murmur of agreement and the nodding of heads. More onlookers joined the circle. Harrison was among them.

"Everyone knows the war only lasted as long as it did because of Russia’s disregard for her soldiers’ safety," a portly gentleman said.

"Our soldiers have always shown themselves well," the Earl of Hollingsworth added. "And our officers are the finest in the world. Always have been."

"Do you agree, Major Talbot?" Bendendine asked.

Of all the men he’d met this evening, Bendendine had been the most curious, had been the most interested when Gabriel was asked a question.

"No, sir. I’m afraid I don’t."

A deafening stillness silenced the group, then everyone in the growing circle turned toward him with frowns on their foreheads.

"Are you saying that our soldiers didn’t show themselves well?" Canesport bristled.

"Absolutely not," Gabriel began. "The soldiers who fought in the Crimea were the bravest, most noble men ever to have put on British uniforms."

"Then what are you implying, Major?"

He looked into Harrison’s hooded gaze and fought the war waging within him. He wasn’t sure if this was the time or place to say what needed to be said, but he owed it to the tens of thousands of men who’d died to tell their story. Finally, Harrison answered his internal debate for him.

"I think you should explain yourself," Harrison said. "Many of the men here tonight have no idea what you, or my brother, or the rest of the men we sent to fight in the Crimea endured. I think the world deserves to know."