Читать книгу The Captain's Disgraced Lady - Catherine Tinley, Catherine Tinley - Страница 10

Chapter Two

An hour later, the ladies left the parlour, Mama, thankfully, now easy and calm. Juliana rang the landlord’s bell in the taproom. She pointedly ignored the two soldiers, who sat at a table opposite the door, enjoying tankards of foaming beer. The one who had spoken to her—the tall one with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes—lifted his head and watched her. She could feel the intensity of his gaze.

The landlord appeared from the back room, all bustle and busyness. ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting, miss.’

‘I should like to pay the reckoning.’

‘Yes, Miss.’ The landlord glanced at Juliana’s mother and his expression changed. ‘Ma’am, you are unwell! May I be of assistance?’

Juliana turned quickly. ‘Mama!’ Her mother looked dreadful. Her normally pale skin was ashen and she was gasping for breath. She seemed to be staring fixedly at a painting on the facing wall—a portrait of a stern-looking army general.

Juliana took Mama’s arm and gently led her to a nearby settle. The two soldiers, who had leapt to their feet, approached with concerned expressions.

‘Oh, dear! I am sorry! I do not wish to make a fuss!’ Mama’s voice was faint and trembled slightly.

‘It is nothing, Mama. You see, you can sit here, until you feel better.’ Juliana was pleased to note that her own voice remained steady, though inside she was distressed. What on earth was wrong with her? And what was she to do?

‘How may I be of assistance?’ The dark-haired soldier spoke softly.

‘We do not need your assistance!’ Juliana hissed. Gathering herself, she added a reluctant, ‘Thank you.’

‘I think you do. Unless—’ his blue eyes pierced hers ‘—you wish to fetch the doctor yourself?’

‘The landlord will do it.’ Mama probably did need a doctor.

‘The landlord cannot leave his inn. And we saw his manservant riding off as we arrived.’

‘Gone to the market,’ confirmed the landlord gloomily. ‘Won’t be back ’til nearly sundown.’

Her mother had closed her eyes and seemed to be concentrating on breathing slowly. Juliana bit her lip. She knew herself to be at a standstill.

‘Quite.’ There was satisfaction in the soldier’s tone. Juliana looked at him. Was that a gleam of enjoyment in his eyes? She stood straighter, then addressed the other soldier, the sandy-haired one.

‘Sir, might I request your assistance?’ She ignored the arrogant soldier completely. ‘I would be grateful if you could fetch the doctor to assist my mother.’

His eyes bulged. ‘Anything! I am at your service!’ He bowed. ‘Lieutenant Roderick Evans, of the Thirtieth Foot.’

Juliana inclined her head. ‘I am Miss Milford. My mother, Mrs Milford.’

He gestured towards his friend, as protocol demanded. ‘Captain Harry Fanton, also of the Thirtieth.’

Captain Fanton bowed ironically. She wasn’t sure how he managed it, but the bow was definitely ironic. Stop! She should be concentrating on Mama. She rubbed her mother’s white hands, speaking softly to her.

‘Mama, this gentleman will fetch the doctor. All will be well.’

‘No! I do not need to see a doctor. I am well.’

Juliana looked at her closely. In truth, her mother did look a little better. She bade Lieutenant Evans wait, then sat by Mama’s side for a few minutes. She closed her eyes. Slowly, the colour began to return to her cheeks. Juliana’s own heart also began to calm a little.

Her mother opened her eyes, a frown appearing as she realised she was being watched by the two soldiers and the landlord. All bore similar expressions of concern, but Juliana was conscious that Mama would hate to be the focus of attention. She turned to Juliana, her eyes pleading. ‘I am ready, Juliana. I wish to travel on. Let us go to the coach.’

‘If you are certain, Mama, then we will go.’ At least in the carriage, her mother would be safe from the kind eyes of strangers. But what if she were truly ill? Oh, how Juliana wished she knew what to do!

Mrs Milford stood, though slowly and carefully. Seeing it, Juliana frowned.

Captain Fanton still looked concerned. ‘Mrs Milford, may I enquire—were you ill during the crossing?’

‘Indeed I was, Captain. The crossing was very rough, you see.’

‘Then let me advise you. Stay in Dover tonight. The worst thing you can do is to travel onwards by carriage. It will remind you too much of the movement of the sea.’

‘Oh, but Juliana says we need to travel on tonight. Our rooms are booked in an inn twenty miles from here.’

‘Twenty miles!’ His jaw set. ‘I am concerned you are not well enough to travel.’

Juliana felt her anger rise. How dare he interfere? What did he know of her mother or their needs? She was having trouble enough trying to decide what was best, without an interfering stranger trying to influence Mama!

‘I thank you, sir...’ her voice dripped with contempt ‘...but we have no need of your advice. Or your concern.’

He sent her a cold look. ‘I intended no insult. I meant only to help.’

Mrs Milford spoke, shakily. ‘Thank you for your kindness, Captain Fanton, but I am quite well.’

Juliana bit her lip. Mama was not recovered, it was clear, and that insufferable man might be right. Her mother would surely benefit from a quiet evening in the inn, rather than a long coach journey, but how was she to back down now?

‘Landlord, we shall retire once more to your parlour. You may tell the coachman to wait. Lieutenant, I should be grateful if you would fetch the doctor.’

‘Oh, no, Juliana, but we must travel on. Our room is reserved and if we do not leave soon we shall be too late.’

‘We shall discuss it in private, Mama.’

‘Landlord! Do you have another chamber free—one suitable for these ladies?’ Captain Fanton took it upon himself to question their host. Juliana’s fury increased. Really!

The landlord confirmed it.

Captain Fanton addressed Mrs Milford. ‘We can vouch for the rooms here in the King’s Head, for we have stayed here many times.’ He glanced at Lieutenant Evans, who shuffled in discomfort, clearly unwilling to be drawn into the battle of wills between his commanding officer and a young lady they had never met before.

Juliana was now fuming. This was intolerable interference! What business was it of his what they did?

‘If I wish for your opinion, on inns, or any other matter, then I shall ask for it!’ She sent him a daggered glance, then turned back to her mother. ‘Mama, come with me to the parlour.’

Mrs Milford, always polite, thanked the two men before allowing Juliana to take her arm and lead her from the taproom. Juliana ignored them.

The landlord followed them back to the parlour, where Juliana immediately saw Mama settled again in the chair beside the fire. She then quizzed the landlord on all the possible inns in the area. None, it seemed, would suit their purposes, either being full, as far as he knew, or unsuitable for the Quality.

‘Then we have no choice. We must stay here.’

The landlord, who had clearly been troubled by the altercations between the fiery young lady and Captain Fanton, confirmed this with an air of resignation.

‘You may tell the coachman to return in the morning. We require a chamber with two beds, and I shall inspect the sheets.’ He nodded resignedly and left, in his haste omitting to close the door behind him.

Juliana turned to her mother. ‘How are you feeling now, Mama?’

‘Much, much better. Juliana, I do wish we had travelled on.’

‘Captain Fanton did not advise it.’ There was a hard edge to Juliana’s voice.

‘Did you dislike the Captain? I thought him a charming young gentleman. So obliging!’

‘I did not find him charming in the least! In fact, I found him conceited, rude and arrogant! He had no business interfering in—’

She broke off, as the object of her tirade appeared in the doorway, her mother’s reticule in his hand.

‘Mrs Milford, I believe you dropped this.’ Captain Fanton’s voice dripped with ice, his jaw set into a hard line. His eyes, connecting with Juliana’s, flashed fury.

He marched smartly across to her mother’s chair, handed her the reticule, bowed and left.

Juliana stood stock still for a moment, as the realisation of her own rudeness washed over her. Her face flushed. She put both hands up to cover her embarrassment.

‘Juliana! How could you?’ Her mother’s voice signalled her shock.

‘Oh, I know, I know,’ Juliana groaned. ‘But how was I to know he would come sneaking up on me, eavesdropping at the door?’

‘He was not eavesdropping! Juliana, I do not understand what has come over you. Indeed, I am most disappointed in you today and now you have insulted that young man. How many times have I told you that your behaviour must be beyond reproach? I knew no good would come of going to England. I just knew it!’ Mama began to cry.

Juliana rushed to her mother and knelt by her side.

‘Oh, Mama, indeed I am sorry! My dashed temper got the better of me—and it has not done so in years! I can only blame the long journey and his rudeness earlier. Perhaps I, too, am more tired than I knew. I do not normally behave so, you know this!’

Her mother’s eyes were sorrowful. ‘I am surprised, Daughter. If there is one thing I wished, it was to raise you to be a lady, not a termagant! You know how hard it was for me as a widow, raising you by myself. And you know that you must give no reason for anyone to question your behaviour!’ Her mother began to sob gently into a lace-edged handkerchief.

Shaken by the knowledge that she was the cause of her mother’s distress, Juliana just managed to hold back her own tears. Over the years Mama had drummed it into her that she must be ladylike, circumspect, and wary at all times. She must not draw attention to herself. Her reputation was a fragile thing. The consequences of attracting gossip could be fatal to her place in good company.

There were reasons, her mother always said, that she couldn’t divulge, why Juliana must be even more careful than other young ladies. What reasons? Juliana had asked, many times. Her mother had resolutely refused to answer.

Conscious of her mother’s frailty, Juliana had complied—though it had frequently cost her to hold her tongue and behave properly. Today’s lapse was inexcusable. She spent so much of her energies devoting herself to protecting her mother, yet now she had troubled her. ‘I am sorry, Mama. I truly am.’

Her mother, unable to withstand her daughter’s remorse, stroked Juliana’s dark curls.

‘I know, Julie-Annie.’

‘I hate it when you are disappointed in me.’

‘You should apologise to him.’ Mama held her gaze evenly.

Juliana swallowed hard. ‘I know.’

‘Invite them to join us in the parlour. They can dine with us later.’

‘Must I?’ Her mother’s stern look was enough. ‘Very well. But you cannot force me to like him.’

Steeling herself to face him, Juliana moved swiftly along the narrow hallway to the taproom. There he was, glowering into his beer. Lieutenant Evans had gone—presumably to fetch the doctor.

Juliana lifted her chin. ‘Captain Fanton, I must speak with you.’

He looked at her. His eyes narrowed. ‘Well?’

Such insolence! She clenched her fists by her side, managing to hold back the angry retort on her lips.

Deliberately, he leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. Long, sturdy legs, she noted absent-mindedly. The thin breeches hugged his long limbs, revealing the curve and sweep of well-developed, powerful muscles. She had heard that some men filled their stockings with sawdust, to falsify muscular calves. Not this man! She felt herself flushing, unaccountably.

Ignoring his attempt to disconcert her, she pressed on. ‘I wish to apologise. You should not have had to hear my angry words.’

A gleam of surprise lit his dark-blue eyes. ‘Are you apologising for saying what you said, or only for allowing me to hear your opinion?’

Oh, he was sharp-witted, this one.

‘I would have preferred you hadn’t heard me, but...’ she sighed ruefully ‘...I should not have said those things. My anger got the better of me.’

‘A frank apology, then. I admire plain speaking and will accept it.’ He offered his hand. Reluctantly, she took it.

His hand was warm, his grip firm without being crushing. She pulled her hand away as soon as she could and noticed a wolf-like smile lurking in the corner of his eyes. Her hackles rose again. A lifetime of protecting herself and Mama had made her wary.

‘My mother bids me invite you and Lieutenant Evans to join us in the parlour for dinner in one hour,’ she informed him.

‘And what would you bid me do?’ His voice was soft, warm, confusing.

‘I would prefer to dine in private, with only my mother. I do not wish to prolong my acquaintance with you!’

He looked surprised for an instant, then threw his head back and laughed. Despite her frustration, she could not help but notice, in that moment, that he was actually very handsome. Acknowledging it—though she had realised it from the first moment she had laid eyes on him—caused her a great deal of annoyance. Why couldn’t his face match his character?

‘You are refreshingly honest, Miss Milford. But, I must point out, it seems your mother holds a different view.’

‘My mother is unwell. She would be better resting quietly in the parlour than conversing with strangers, which will tire her out! But then, your aim from the start has been to gain access to the parlour!’

His eyes flashed. She had scored a hit then? Good.

‘Indeed?’ he said coolly. ‘I did not think you cared so much for your mother’s comfort earlier, when you were bustling her towards the carriage when she was clearly unwell! Or when you wanted to take her away from the warmth, to the taproom, rather than share the parlour!’

Juliana gasped. ‘And what business is it of yours, may I ask?’

‘In a sense, none. But I am used to considering the needs of those around me and I saw how ill she looked in this very room!’

‘Are you suggesting I fail to consider my mother’s needs?’ She was livid. No one had ever dared suggest such a thing. Why, she had devoted all her energies to looking after her mother!

‘That isn’t what I said.’

No, but he had certainly implied it! How dared he?

‘I shall thank you to keep your opinions to yourself! I do not wish to discuss my own personal business with you!’

He threw her a look filled with challenge. ‘And yet you just have.’

‘That was a mistake. It will not happen again.’

Juliana had had enough. Without a word of goodbye, she turned and strode away. She swept regally across the taproom, head held high, then collided inelegantly with the serving girl, who almost dropped her basket. Juliana rocked on her heels and put a hand out to touch the table in order to prevent herself from falling. Lord, what a time to be clumsy!

She could feel his eyes on her and knew he was laughing. This was fast turning into one of the worst days of her life. She mumbled an apology to the girl and scuttled out of the room as fast as she could.

* * *

Harry stood, filled with agitation. Absent-mindedly informing the serving girl that, no, he did not require another beer, he began to pace around the taproom. Damn Miss Milford! She had made him lose his temper and he had spoken hastily. He, who prided himself on his self-control.

It had been hard-earned, this ability to detach himself from situations so he could always act coolly and rationally. It had taken years of relentless practice and self-discipline. Anger—like fear—was simply not permitted in his gut. He knew the risks of too much emotion. These days, it was almost impossible for an insolent private or an untidy lieutenant to cause him to bristle. He paused. Until today.

He had been aware of his own frustration at being forced to return to England. He had not, however, expected his own temper to be so damn short!

Provocation. That was his defence. The fiery Miss Milford was altogether too insolent and fearless with her words and manner. The disdain in her eyes still irked him now. Such insubordination would not be tolerated for a minute in the army. Men had been flogged for less! And for more...

He checked himself. Insubordination? Had he somehow expected her to obey him, to take his commands as though he were her senior officer? He sighed ruefully. Yes, he had. Because he was a man and she was a young woman, he had expected her to defer to him and had been shocked when she hadn’t. He also, he realised, felt strangely protective of her. His instincts told him Mrs Milford was heavily reliant on her daughter and that, at times, this was something of a heavy burden for the young woman to bear. Not that she was helpless! Along with foolish amounts of courage, her evident wit and intelligence had been clearly displayed.

He thought he’d had her at a standstill when she realised she would need someone to fetch the doctor, but she had outwitted him by asking Evans. Strangely, the thought gave him a sense of satisfaction, not dissimilar to finding an opponent who could genuinely challenge him in chess. A worthy foe, then.

The fact that she also happened to be one of the most stunning women he’d ever met had not escaped his attention, either. Even now, he could picture her perfectly clearly in his mind’s eye. A beautiful opponent, and one who had stirred his emotions, and his body, as much as his mind.

She had challenged him and bested him, but he was not without small victories either. She would be forced to dine with them tonight, against her inclination. He wondered if he could charm her.

He reflected again on their battle of wits. Damn it! She had made him say unforgivable things. He recalled her face as he had accused her of not caring for her mother’s comfort. Beneath the anger, she had looked stricken. Harry squirmed uncomfortably. How could he possibly understand her motivations for behaving as she did? He should not have accused her so. Now, how was he to atone for it?