The Officer and the Proper Lady (18 page)

And as for what would happen if he did come to her, she could not imagine. She could not get beyond kisses in her head. Kisses and that confusing, overwhelming feeling that he had created when he had caressed her in the woodland glade.

But first, she had to talk to him, begin the civilised routines of married life. Somehow her training was going to have to help her through, because this marriage that had begun on a battlefield was going to have to survive in a very different world.

Julia told herself that the man she loved could hardly be more difficult to converse with than Great Aunt Penelope. She ran through a mental list of topics. His country estate with the soup, the family home in Hertford shire with the removes. Then perhaps his interest in horse breeding during dessert. Eventually it would become easier, she was sure. She would discover his interests, tell him her own and they could begin to build their own shared reality.

She would go to the other end of the private sitting room and start embroidering her new initials on some hand kerchiefs, leaving him to his port and cheese at the dining table and then perhaps she should ask whether he had bought any lace for the ladies of his family and offer to do so in the few hours they had in Gent before the barge departed.

That all seemed very harmless, with plenty of scope for conversation. Julia fastened the diamond eardrops that Hal had given her, took a deep breath and opened the door to their sitting room.

 

‘…and so that is lace for your mother and Lady Verity and Lady Stanegate.' Julia made a careful note. ‘How much may I spend?'

‘Whatever you think appropriate.' Hal lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the cold fire place and stretched out his long legs slowly. Julia held her breath, waiting for a gasp of pain, but he seemed quite comfortable. ‘What is it?' Bother, he had seen her watching him.

‘I cannot get used to you out of uniform,' she said, truthfully. His valet had extricated Hal from his restricting dress uniform, and he was wearing loose trousers with his dark swallow tail coat. The formal severity of black and white showed off his blonde looks but turned him into a stranger, no longer either the rake or the officer, but a remote gentleman.

The evening had gone quite well, she thought. The conversation had not flagged, the topics they had discussed were personal without being intimate. It had all been very pleasant, except for that growing tension as the hour hand moved round the mantle clock towards ten.

Julia felt very aware of Hal and oddly aware of her own body. It was as though her skin was too tight, her breasts had grown heavy. There was an embarrassing and in sis tent pulse beating low down that made her want to shift nervously in her chair, and she was certain that Hal was purposefully averting his eyes from her neckline which felt more indecent every time she thought of it.

What on earth was the matter with her? If this was nerves, she had never felt like it before. The nearest was that long
afternoon when Hal had rescued her from Major Fellowes in the forest and the after math of that short, passionate encounter.

The clock struck ten, making her jump. ‘I think I will go to bed,' she announced, putting away the embroidery that had lain un touched for the past hour, giving Hal time to get to his feet.

She was so intent at looking at what she was doing and not hurrying him if getting up was painful, that it was a shock to find him standing so close when she finally stood up.

‘It seems a very long time since I kissed my bride,' Hal said, tipping up her chin and smiling at her.

‘Yes,' she agreed. In the church, with everyone watching them, the pressure of his lips had been the seal on the ceremony, part of the blessing, a sweet thing, not a carnal one.

Now the memory of how overwhelming it had been when she had kissed him as he lay in bed came flooding back. Somehow, she had to do it properly this time. Julia watched as Hal bent to her, his eyes intent on her mouth, his hand sliding round to cradle her head.

As his mouth closed over hers and he pulled her close, she suddenly realized why she had felt so strange all evening.
Desire.
Physical desire, all mixed up with love and nerves and apprehension. She wanted him, her body wanted him. It was going to be all right, but she had to be brave, to trust her instincts and learn to show him what she felt.

There was no painful bullion and braid against her bare skin above the edge of her silk gown, only the warmth of Hal's body through linen and smooth broad cloth. She moved, restless, and her nipples hardened with the friction, making her gasp as he slid his tongue between her lips and tasted her, explored her mouth, teased her until she wanted to squirm against him to get closer. But should she, with the bandages beneath his shirt?

Just as she felt emboldened to try Hal lifted his head, his eyes bright in the candlelight. ‘You are very beautiful, wife. Does kissing begin to please you now?'

‘Yes,' she admitted, wondering if that made her very wanton. Or whether wantonness would please him or disgust him. He was used to loose women, but men expected decorum from their wives. But decorum had not brought him into her bed so far.

‘I'm glad.' He lifted his hand and brushed it gently over her mouth, tracing the shape of her lips. ‘It pleases me very much.' He turned her, took her elbow and began to walk towards the bedroom door. ‘You must be tired. Sleep well, Julia.'

He opened the door for her, then stepped back and turned to the other door, the door to the dressing room, and left her alone.

‘T
hat's Burlington House, we're almost there.' Hal pointed out of the chaise window while Julia tried to take in the sights and control her jittery nerves.

There would be only the skeleton staff of servants at the town house, she reassured herself for the hundredth time. And it was not Hal's house, even if it was his town home, so she would not be expected to give any orders to top-lofty London servants. Perhaps it was a good thing that Mama and Phillip had stopped with Uncle and Aunt Tresilian in Rochester: Phillip and a superior butler were hardly likely to make a harmonious couple.

A few days to them selves in London, the opportunity to rest and relax, to do a little shopping—to get to know each other.

Euphemisms,
she chided herself sharply.
Time for him to come to my bed, that's what I mean. Oh, why doesn't he want to make love to me?
She had asked herself that over and over when the limit to Hal's physical affection seemed to be kisses, the occasional touch on her hand. Admittedly,
the kisses were passionate, but they left her feeling that she would burst into flames at any moment.

They had been travel ling of course—but from what she had heard, a man in the throes of amorous excitement was not to be put off by tiny cabins or the accommodations to be found at coaching inns. She could only conclude that she did not produce sufficient amorous excitement in him. But unless she had some practice, she was not at all certain how she was ever going to learn. And if they could not share the intimacy of the marriage bed, how were they ever going to become close enough to make this marriage work? Something
had
been there, so strongly between them, when he had lain with her in the grass, that day at the picnic. What was she doing wrong that he no longer wanted to caress her like that?

Or was there something she could do? Julia was not sure quite how, or whether she would dare, but she was going to find something, she vowed.

The post-chaise turned right, then stopped in front of a tall, double-fronted house. Hal jumped down and handed Julia out. ‘The knocker's still on,' he said, sounding puzzled. He handed notes up to the nearest postillion who stuffed the money down his heavy leather boot while his colleague unloaded their trunks.

‘Someone of the family must still be at home.' Hal took Julia's arm and climbed the steps, his limp very pronounced after the long carriage ride. ‘Oh well, let's see.' He banged the knocker while Julia's heart thudded in unison.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, balding butler whose expression of dignified solemnity lasted as long as it took him to recognize the man on the doorstep. ‘Major Carlow, sir! We had not hoped—Lord and Lady Narborough are in the—'

‘Hal!' A tall woman hurried across the chequered floor of the hall, her hands held out. ‘Oh thank God!' She threw
her arms around him and burst into tears as a young woman came down the stairs.

‘Is that the post? Oh! Hal!'

Julia stepped aside, as Hal was embraced from the other side, then saw she had better intervene. ‘Please, do mind his arm, his ribs…Lady Verity—' She supposed this must be Hal's younger sister.

‘Hal.' It was a man, rather stooped, greying, obviously a invalid. He did not come down the hall, but waited, leaning on a stick while Hal put his mother and sister gently to one side and went to him.

‘Father.' Julia saw him hesitate, then he embraced the older man. ‘You all seem very surprised to see me. Have you not had my letters?'

‘The only letter we have had was from a Captain Grey to say you had been badly wounded, but that you had been removed from the battlefield and he had hopes of your eventual recovery,' Lord Narborough said. ‘If we had heard nothing by the last post today, then Marcus was going to travel to Brussels to find out what had happened.' His voice was measured, but even from where she stood, Julia could see his hands shaking as they held his cane.

‘I sent letters, I promise you,' Hal said. ‘But if you have not had those, you will not know who this is.' He turned and held out his hand to Julia. ‘Mama, Father, may I present my wife, Julia, the niece of Sir Alfred Tresilian of Rochester. Julia, my parents, my younger sister Verity.'

Julia dropped a respectful curtsey and her new mother in law burst into renewed tears.

‘Mama!' Hal sounded shaken, but Julia realized she had expected nothing less than this rejection. Then Lady Narborough threw out her arms and gathered her into a rather damp embrace and she felt her own tears welling up with relief.

‘Oh my dear! Oh, how pretty you are and what a terrible
time you must have had of it. But welcome to the family.' She kissed Julia and thrust her towards Lord Narborough before seizing Hal's hands. ‘At last, you wretched boy! And the poor child arriving unannounced into a houseful of strangers.

‘Now, come into the drawing room. Or should you go straight to bed? Julia, my dear. You must advise, what is to be done with him?'

‘I think Hal will tell us himself,' Julia said, seeing her husband's jaw beginning to tense. ‘But, for myself, I would be very glad of the opportunity to retire for a short while: we seem to have been travel ling for an age.'

‘But of course. Now let me see—Hal, you have your old room and Julia can have Marcus's—we have re deco rated it as a guest room, not that you are a guest my dear, but it is right next to Hal with just a little sitting room between that used to be the school room but you can have it as a private parlour. Wellow, do take Mrs Carlow upstairs—oh, and a maid…'

‘My dear,' Lord Narborough interjected, ‘You will make our new daughter dizzy. You go up, my dear, take Hal with you and we will see you later when you are rested and we are all a little calmer.'

‘I will show you.' Lady Verity—the well-behaved sister, Julia remembered—stood beaming at them. Her golden hair resembled Hal's, but her eyes were a distinctive hazel green. She linked arms with Julia and guided her towards the stairs. Julia cast a glance back over her shoulder at Hal, but he nodded for her to go, so she let herself be swept along.

‘We were so worried that Hal had been killed, or been horribly wounded, and it is hopeless trying to get any information at Horse Guards; they kept saying he
was
alive, but there were no letters. And here he is, perfectly all right and married!'

‘He was wounded badly,' Julia interjected. ‘And he is a
dreadful patient as you no doubt know, Lady Verity, so he does need to rest.'

‘You must call me Verity, we are sisters.' She pushed open a door. ‘Here you are. Isn't it nice? I chose the hangings. And that door there is the dressing room and that one is to the little parlour and then Hal's room is the other side of that. And you have the garden side, not like Hal who has the street, so you will be very quiet.'

‘It is lovely.' Julia looked round at a room into which all the bed chambers at Place de Leuvan would have easily fitted. There was no sign of Hal, he must have gone to his own room. She eyed the inter connecting door uneasily.

‘Is your maid coming later? Only you can borrow mine, her name's Miriam. I used to share her with Honoria, but she's married now and somewhere in America, would you believe?' She smiled, and Julia thought how sweet and open she seemed. ‘It is so lovely to have a new sister.'

 

It was all going much better than he had hoped. Marcus and Nell had come and had stayed for the evening, visibly moved by the news of his safe return and unexpected marriage. Hal looked round the drawing room after dinner at his mother, sister and sister in law, all three de lighted with Julia. She had relaxed, her nerves apparently subsiding in the face of the warm welcome, and his father and brother sat either side of him, watching the women.

‘A very prettily behaved young lady,' Lord Narborough commented. For once, Hal decided, he had done something right as far as his father was concerned. ‘I cannot imagine how you prevailed upon her to marry you.' Ah, there was the barb back again.

‘She saved my life,' Hal said. ‘She found me after the battle and nursed me—in a squalid hovel, just yards from the
battlefield—until I could be moved. If she had not, I would be dead.'

‘Then we are even more in her debt,' Lord Narborough said. Hal half regretted his words, seeing how white his father had gone around the lips, but he wanted his family to know just what they owed their new daughter.

‘I think I'll take a turn in the garden.' He got to his feet with care. ‘I get stiff if I sit for too long. Coming?' He raised an eyebrow at Marcus who needed no stronger hint.

‘How bad is it?' his brother asked when they were clear of the half-open windows. ‘You're doing a damn good job of pretending it doesn't hurt, but you don't fool me.'

‘Not good,' Hal admitted. ‘A lot better than it was, and the healing is going well, thanks to Julia, but the cut in my thigh was damned deep and I keep losing strength in it, suddenly. And all the internal bruising is working its way out—slowly!'

‘Father's relieved to see you—you do know that, don't you?' Hal shrugged. ‘He is proud of you, even if he doesn't approve of you. Do you want to talk about how it happened?' Marcus leaned against a statue of Diana.

‘We'd been sitting on our back sides most of the day—it was a charge through the French artillery right at the end. The thing is, it was a French shell that took me off the horse and knocked me about—but an English trooper tried to kill me first. He was responsible for all the wounds.'

‘What the hell?' His brother stood up abruptly, sending the goddess rocking on her plinth.

Hal explained. ‘…and I don't think it was Stephen Hebden this time. Not when Harris de scribed someone who spoke like me, was older and who had cold eyes like death. But Harris had a silken rope. I've got it in my luggage. And Hebden was in Brussels: he bought jewellery from Julia. Snooping on me, I have no doubt.'

‘You know, that ties in with my gut feeling that there is someone else or chestrating these rumours about Father. They aren't Hebden's style. Nor is murder.' Marcus began to pace up and down the flag stones. ‘You realize this is the very spot where the original murder took place? No wonder it preys on Father's mind.

‘But we know, to some extent, why Hebden is persecuting us all: he blames the families for his father's death. But why should anyone else? I can believe any of us individually might have made an enemy—but the Wardales, the Carlows
and
Imogen Hebden?'

‘If Wardale was innocent,' Hal said slowly, ‘then the murderer and spy may still be alive, still be out there.'

‘In his last letter to his wife, Wardale denied it, said he suspected Father,' Marcus pointed out. ‘But, if we start from the basic premise that he is innocent too—who does that leave?'

‘Perhaps you should tell all this to Stephen Hebden.' Both men swung round to find Julia standing on the flags behind them. ‘I came to see if you wanted tea,' she said, prosaically. ‘Then I over heard.'

‘You'd need a long spoon to sup with that devious devil,' Marcus said harshly. ‘He almost caused my wife's death.'

‘But not, I think, intention ally,' Hal said, a wary eye on his brother. ‘And Hebden acts personally in his vengeance. The attack on me was planned, paid for and at one remove from the instigator.'

‘I'd like to see you being so tolerant if he kid napped Julia and threatened to ravish her. And don't forget that he tried to ruin Honoria, almost wrecked Monty's wedding. Do I need to go on?'

‘No. I'll not take him into my confidence,' Hal agreed.

 

But despite his words, he was still brooding on the mystery as he sat in his room by the light of a single branch of candles,
staring at his bare feet protruding from the hem of his silk robe and trying to work up enough energy to get into bed.

There were sounds from the little parlour that used to be the school room he shared with Marcus. Julia, looking for a book, perhaps. He wondered how soon he could take things a little further without shocking her. Even thinking about it had his body tightening, his loins aching. She responded readily to his kisses now, although he often caught her staring at him, her cheeks pink with what had to be shyness. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he was certainly learning it now.

With a faint creak, the door opened. There, on the threshold, her hair loose and waving on her shoulders, stood Julia. In the flickering light he could see her toes, bare beneath the hem of her simple white night gown.

Hal got to his feet, closing his mouth with a snap, thankful for the heavy folds of his dressing gown. He was naked beneath the robe and, suddenly, so aroused it hurt. ‘Julia? Did you want something?'

Her face was flushed, and she seemed to be holding onto the door handle for support. ‘I want to know if you are ever going to come to my room.'

‘
What?
Why?' This was his shy, innocent bride who had fled when he had asked her to kiss him.

‘Because we are married and I do not feel very married!' He took a step towards her. The pink in her cheeks, he realized incredulously, was partly indignation. ‘I know I will not be very good at first, but you can teach me, can't you?'

‘Julia, I told you. I am not used to virgins, I do not want to shock you. I thought, perhaps, if you got used to me and realized I am trying to reform my ways, you would come to trust me and it would be easier.'

‘For whom?' she enquired tartly. Hal found his lips were twitching, despite a feeling of near panic. How could he face
the French army feeling nothing but excited anticipation and yet Julia reduced him to this state of nerves?

‘For both of us?' he suggested. She glared at him, and perversely he felt his spirits lifting. ‘If you are sure?' He reached out a hand to his bed and tossed back the covers. For a moment, he thought she would turn and run, then she came in, closed the door behind her and walked steadily to stand in front of him.