Читать книгу Marrying The Major - Joanna Maitland - Страница 8

‘No. I could not accept.’

Jamie cast an imploring look towards her husband. She had clearly exhausted her own arguments and was desperate for him to intervene.

‘Hugo, please reconsider,’ Richard said seriously. ‘The Fitzwilliams are our oldest friends. They will be very hurt if you refuse.’

‘I have absolutely no intention of providing a raree-show for Miss Fitzwilliam and her dinner guests, Richard. Acceptance is out of the question. Now, if you will excuse me…’ Hugo limped towards the door. ‘My apologies to you, ma’am,’ he said as he opened it, ‘if my refusal creates difficulties for you with your friends. But my mind is made up. I will not attend.’ He closed the door quietly behind him.

‘Oh, dear.’ Jamie’s shoulders had slumped. ‘How will we ever persuade him to return to Society if he will not attend even a small dinner amongst friends?’

Richard shook his head sadly. He hated to see his wife so upset. ‘I don’t know, my love. I really don’t. I’d ask Emma to talk to him—but, after yesterday’s encounter, he seems to wish to avoid her completely.’ He started to pace. ‘I had better ride over to Longacres to warn Emma, though, before she receives Hugo’s note. If she learns of his refusal by letter, we really will be in the suds.’

‘Tell her how hard we tried, Richard,’ said Jamie, a little wearily.

‘I will—but she will know that without my telling her. Remember, she knows you.’ Richard bent to place a gentle, lingering kiss on his wife’s lips. ‘Don’t worry, my love. Even if we can’t resolve this now, it will soon blow over. And Hugo is bound to become less sensitive—eventually.’

That thought remained with Richard throughout his ride across his own estate to Sir Edward’s. Hugo was as stubborn as a mule—and stiff-necked besides, as well as proud, touchy, exasperating… Richard could have continued with his list for some time, but he did not. Hugo was a good man, and a good friend, who had suffered a great deal during his years as a soldier. With time, his testiness would mellow—probably.

‘Richard!’

Emma was almost upon him before Richard realised that she was there. Damn! He hadn’t yet worked out how he was going to explain to her about Hugo’s refusal.

Emma was too full of her own laudable aims to notice that there was anything amiss with Richard. ‘You weren’t coming to visit me, were you, Richard?’ she asked brightly. ‘No need, for I am before you. And since I have already covered a much greater distance than you, it would be ungentlemanly in you to expect me to retrace my steps—’ she smiled like the cheeky child she had once been ‘—would it not?’

Richard’s answering smile was a little forced, Emma thought. Perhaps he had been coming to remonstrate with her in private about her unacceptable treatment of Hugo. He had cause, but she would not permit any man to lecture her. ‘To tell you the truth, Richard,’ began Emma, more seriously now, and determined to make a clean breast of her failings, ‘I was hoping for a chance to talk to Hugo, to apologise for my behaviour yesterday—’ that was not quite true, she realised ‘—or, at least, to try to show him that I mean us to be friends again. It was just that I…I was unprepared for the change in him. I—’

‘Jamie did try to warn you, Emma.’ Emma recognised Richard’s ‘big brother’ voice. ‘If you hadn’t rushed out so quickly—’

‘I know. And I’m sorry, Richard. Truly.’ Emma tried to look contrite, but she knew she was not making a very good fist of it. She was going to make amends. Surely that was enough? ‘However, once Hugo has been introduced to all his old friends, he will have no more cause for concern. I shall visit all the guests before the dinner party to warn them so that—’

‘Hugo refuses to attend, Emma.’

‘No! He wouldn’t! He—’

‘He’s adamant, Emma. That’s what I was coming to tell you.’ Richard was looking away suddenly, unable to meet Emma’s eye. ‘He…he thinks you invited him in order to use him as a sort of…’ He cleared his throat rather too noisily. ‘He hates to be stared at,’ he finished at last.

Emma was shocked, then disbelieving, then angry when the import of Richard’s words sank in. She urged her mare into a trot. ‘So that’s what he thinks of me,’ she said hotly. ‘Well, let’s see if he has the gall to say so to my face. How dare he assume—?’

‘Emma.’ Richard caught up with her and laid a hand on her arm. ‘Emma, calm down. Please. If you fly up into the boughs with Hugo, he’ll probably pack his bags and leave. And considering the trouble we had in persuading him to come here in the first place—’ Richard broke off suddenly. From the look on his face, Emma fancied her friend had said more than he intended.

Emma slowed Juno to a gentle walk, forcing Richard to do the same. ‘Richard,’ she said earnestly, ‘I don’t really understand what is going on. I know I behaved unpardonably yesterday; and I do want to set matters right. That was why I persuaded Papa to hold a little dinner party for Hugo. I thought he… Well, no matter what I thought. Obviously, I was wrong. From what you say, it seems as if it’s more than just… Oh, I know the scars are dreadful, but surely they will fade?’

Richard hesitated for several moments. ‘Hugo has changed a great deal, Emma. It’s more than just his wounds, I think, but he will not speak of his experiences, even to me, his oldest friend. Jamie had the devil’s own job persuading him to come to Harding at all. He was set to bury himself on a rundown manor miles from anywhere.’

‘Oh.’ Emma did not know what to say. Nothing in her upbringing had prepared her to deal with a man like Hugo Stratton.

‘Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t come to Harding for a day or two, Emma. Give Hugo time to come down from his high horse.’

‘Of course, I…’ As she spoke the words politeness demanded, Emma knew instinctively that they were wrong. ‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I shan’t give him time to persuade himself that I am a heartless trophy-hunter. I was not planning to put him on display, as he seems to think, and I intend to make him admit as much.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘Devil take the man,’ she said fiercely. ‘Can’t he see that I’m trying to help him?’

Emma’s resolution had all but deserted her by the time she finally caught sight of Hugo among the trees. He had walked much further from the house than she had expected. Judging from his painfully slow pace, it must have taken a very long time to come this far.

Emma swung the tail of her claret-coloured velvet habit over her arm and hurried down the woodland path to intercept him. She knew she was looking her best in her new habit and jaunty little hat, and she was determined not to make a mull of this second meeting.

‘Major Stratton.’ She smiled encouragingly at Hugo’s tense figure. He had stopped at the sight of her. She stepped forward to meet him, holding out her gloved hand. ‘Good morning to you,’ she said, refusing to be daunted by his hard gaze and willing her hand not to shake.

Eventually, Hugo transferred his cane to his left hand and quickly shook Emma’s hand. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ he replied.

Emma could detect no trace of warmth in his deep voice, nor any hint that he wished to prolong their encounter. But she would not cry off now. ‘I see that I was wrong to take you at your word yesterday, sir,’ she began in as light-hearted a tone as she could muster.

He threw her a sharp glance from beneath frowning brows before busying himself once more with his walking cane.

‘You told me you could not walk very far, did you not? But I find you a considerable distance from the house. I collect you have been bamming me, sir.’ She looked straight at him then, letting him see the smiling challenge in her eyes.

He returned her gaze frankly for what seemed an age, but she could read nothing of his thoughts.

‘Even cripples may improve, ma’am,’ he said quite softly. ‘The more I walk, the more I shall be able to walk. Would you have me lie down and moulder away?’

‘No, certainly not. How could you think it?’

The tiniest smile crossed Hugo’s lips as she spoke.

Emma’s temper snapped like the dry twigs beneath her boots. ‘Oh, you are quite impossible, Hugo Stratton, all thin skin and stiff-necked pride. You imagine that everyone is relishing your misfortunes or repelled by your scars. You believe that I invited you to my father’s house in order to provide cheap entertainment for my other guests. You think—’ She shook her head so sharply that the long red feather on her hat whipped at her cheek. ‘Whatever you think, you are wrong,’ she continued quietly as he made to speak. ‘When I was a child, you were my friend. I wanted us to continue to be friends—so much so that, as soon as I realised who was sitting with Richard and Dickon, I dashed out to meet you without listening to what Jamie was trying to tell me. So—yes—I was shocked when I saw you. And I…I wish to apologise for my rudeness. I hope you will forgive me.’

Was there a slight softening in Hugo’s stern features? Emma ventured a small smile. ‘I hope we can still be friends.’

Hugo sighed softly. ‘I am no longer the boy you knew, Miss Fitzwilliam,’ he said at last.

‘No,’ replied Emma, ‘but I do not believe that it changes matters.’

Hugo raised his good eyebrow. ‘Indeed?’

There was something about that quirked eyebrow… Years before, it had always been accompanied by a gleam of hidden laughter…

‘Major Stratton—’ Emma stared at Hugo through narrowed eyes ‘—I declare you are laughing at me.’

Clearly, she must be wrong, for there was not the slightest trace of amusement in his face as he took a menacing step towards her. Emma retreated automatically, but the heel of her riding boot caught on her trailing hem, throwing her off balance.

A strong right arm saved her. In that same moment, Emma heard Hugo’s cane clatter against the granite rocks alongside the path.

Emma found she was gasping for breath, like a winded fighter. The arm supporting her felt immensely strong, much too strong for Hugo’s emaciated frame. It felt warm, too, and somehow gentle. How strange that—

‘Are you all right, ma’am?’

Hugo’s question brought Emma back to earth. At last, that cold, hard edge had gone from his voice.

Emma used her free hand to pull her trailing skirt from under her heel. The skin of her other arm was beginning to heat within Hugo’s sustaining grasp. The glowing warmth was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

‘Miss Fitzwilliam?’

Emma blushed rosily. What was she thinking of? ‘Thank you, Major,’ she said. ‘Your prompt action prevented me from becoming an undignified heap on this path. I am most grateful.’ She smiled up at him through her lashes, forcing herself to maintain the expression even when he withdrew his hand from her arm. ‘If you will permit me to say so, sir, you are much stronger than you look,’ she added saucily.

Hugo grinned briefly and, Emma fancied, somewhat ruefully. ‘Needs must when the devil drives, ma’am,’ he said. ‘With only one good arm, I could not have lifted you from the ground, you know. So I had no choice but to stop you while I still could.’

Emma stared at him in frank amazement. Was he actually laughing at himself? This time she could not be mistaken, surely?

She stooped quickly to retrieve his cane—and to hide her whirling thoughts from his penetrating eyes. She could not begin to understand him. Her childhood friend was still there—somewhere—but, overlaid on the young Hugo there was the oddest chameleon of a man…

‘Your cane, Major.’ Straight-faced, she handed it to him.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said politely. There was a moment or two of awkward silence between them. Then Hugo surprised her yet again by saying, ‘I was about to return to the house, as it happens. If it would not be too tedious for you, I would welcome your company for a space.’

Emma nodded in astonished agreement. What had come over him? He sounded—

‘I am only sorry,’ Hugo continued in the same polite tones, ‘that I cannot offer you my arm.’ He flourished his cane with his right hand as he spoke.

Emma smiled to herself but said nothing. For twenty minutes, they walked slowly along the path in companionable silence. The pine needles and the previous season’s dry leaves crunched beneath their feet. A faint scent of crushed pine rose up around them. A woodpecker was drumming in the distance.

By the time Emma had worked out what she needed to say, they had reached the edge of the wood. From there, the long path led straight up to the stables and the house. They were now in full view of anyone watching from the windows.

Emma stopped under the last oak tree, waiting for Hugo to turn back to her. She smiled at him in wide-eyed innocence, hoping for even the slightest hint of a response. With most men, she knew exactly what reaction to expect, but Hugo was totally unpredictable.

At last, his gaze seemed to soften the merest fraction.

‘Major,’ she said gently, ‘I do hope you will accept our dinner invitation.’ He started to frown, but she hurried on. ‘It is to be a very small affair, you know, just ourselves and the Hardinges…and a few old friends. You remember the Rector and Mrs Greenwood, I’m sure, and Mrs Halliday? I know they would all like to meet you again.’ She dropped her gaze and let her voice sink a little more. ‘I promise you that all of them are much better-mannered than I. You will not be embarrassed.’

Emma could feel the heat of a flush on her face and neck. She did not dare to raise her eyes.

‘How can I possibly refuse?’ said Hugo quietly.

Emma looked up at last to see that he was limping slowly back to the house. She had won.

But she had guaranteed Hugo would not be embarrassed in her house. Could she ensure that her promise was kept?