Andersen-LWarLove and WarMaggi AndersenNew Concepts PublishingCopyright © 2009 by Maggi AndersenRomance/Historical Fiction. 20793 words long. enNovellatext/xmlRomance/Historical Fiction

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Love and War
by Maggi Andersen
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Romance/Historical Fiction

New Concepts Publishing
www.newconceptspublishing.com

Copyright ©2009 by Maggi Andersen

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

* * * *

LOVE AND WAR

By

MAGGI ANDERSEN

* * * *

© copyright by Maggi Andersen, April 2009

Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, April 2009

ISBN 978-1-60394-302-4

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

BATH, ENGLAND 1812

The Grand Ballroom of the New Assembly rooms was a total crush. Selena Wakefield and her friend, Elsbeth Millichamp had wandered to a far corner away from the noise in an attempt to make themselves heard.

“Pon rep, Amanda Somersby has all the available men at her feet, all of the time,” Elsbeth said crossly, watching as four young blades clustered around the girl with blue ribbons in her hair.

“She's young and very pretty,” said Selena, searching the crowd for a familiar face.

“If you admire blue-eyed blondes. I find them insipid.”

“Oh, no, Elsbeth, how can you say that?”

“I prefer brunettes myself.” Elsbeth put her hand to her light-brown curls twisted at the back into an Indian knot. “Your hair is unusual, Selena.”

“It's just a drab brown,” Selena replied.

“No, it is not. It's so dark a brown you could almost call it black. And with your green eyes and golden skin you are most unusual.”

“Too much time spent in the sun without my bonnet. Fair-skinned blondes are the fashion.”

“What does it matter?” Elsbeth said moodily. “At our age we are destined to be old-maids.”

Her friend's green eyes twinkled. “You could have married Freddie Goodwin.”

Elsbeth frowned. “Freddie was too forthright. He offended my sensibilities. Now I'm four and twenty and don't have a prospect in the world.”

“Where is Freddie now?”

“He's working for his father's importing company up in London, the last I heard. Not that I'm in any way interested.”

“Of course you are not.” Selena laughed.

Elsbeth smoothed the skirts of her white crepe gown. “Dare you to talk, Selena. You refused an earl no less. Lord Devereux, did you not? And on more than one occasion. I wouldn't have. He's devilishly handsome.”

Selena gazed off into the distance. “You are being contradictory, Elsbeth, Devereux is a blue-eyed blond.”

“It doesn't apply to him.” Elsbeth gave a little shiver of delight. “And you've never quite told me why you refused him. I have heard it said he's rolled-up and his estates are entailed.”

“I believe so.”

“Not a fudge then. But your Papa left you plump in the pocket, so that can't be the reason.”

“It wasn't,” Selena said vaguely.

“I can see you are not going to tell me. And where is he now?”

“I believe he's just resigned his Commission from the Hussars.”

“Not that you are interested,” Elsbeth said, her eyes sparkling.

The musicians took their places and everyone moved to the dance floor for a quadrille.

“Here comes Cousin John to ask me to dance. He's such a dear.” Elsbeth rose as a stocky man with a bristling moustache approached. “But now I must converse with him for a full half an hour!”

Selena hid her smile as John bowed and gave Elsbeth his arm to lead her onto the floor.

She found herself alone, despite the assembly rooms filled with many visitors to Bath. People milled about chatting when not dancing, playing cards and drinking the waters.

Perhaps I am destined to be an old-maid, she thought. She loved her sister's children, but just being an aunt to someone else's had never been her plan. Gyles Devereux had only wanted her for her inheritance and made no secret of it. She sighed. She hadn't told Elsbeth about the other two men she'd refused. Since her father had died and left her a tidy fortune, offers had rained down like arrows. Her sister was forever matchmaking and no doubt before the month was out another hapless suitor would appear at dinner who bore no resemblance to Gyles.

She gave herself a mental scold. She was not going to pine over an unrequited love. It was hardly a tragedy, and she certainly didn't intend to die an old maid because of it. Was she? Then why did she look for his face in the crowd at every dance and soiree she attended? She sighed. Living with her sister was a mixed blessing. She loved the boisterous, noisy household of three children and their menagerie of spoiled pets, and got on very well with her patient, brother-in-law, Hugh. But she longed for her own establishment and was ready to discover the delights her sister appeared to enjoy behind the bedroom door. Selena's face grew hot at the thought and she hurriedly unfurled her ivory fan and gave her face a brisk cooling as a portly gentleman crossed the room towards her.

His damp hand held hers as they took their places among the dancers on the floor.

* * * *

At her sister, Anne's, insistence Selena found herself at the Upper Assembly rooms in Bath again the first Monday of the following month. It was crowded and she danced every dance, but when she settled among the potted palms with a glass of detestable Madeira that a young man had brought her, she admitted to herself she was bored to distraction.

Her friend and companion on these occasions, Elsbeth, was away nursing a sick relative and Selena had never been very good at small talk with bare acquaintances. She loved to plunge into a brisk, political debate with someone of an opposite view, or discuss the latest news of the Duke of Wellington's exploits in Spain, when news finally reached them. She liked to be busy, washing the dogs or riding in the park, and was also quite content to spend an afternoon reading a book that pushed the boundaries of her knowledge. But to sit here and simper and curtsy and dance one interminable dance after another was a bore. She was pondering the possibilities of declaring a headache and retiring early, when a voice above her said, “Well, if it isn't Miss Selena Wakefield.”

She knew that deep, amused voice before she looked up. She could scarcely raise her head as her heart began to beat unnaturally fast.

“Lord Devereux,” he said unnecessarily, as he bowed over her hand.

“I may not be in the first flush of youth, Lord Devereux, but there's nothing wrong with my eyes or my memory.”

“Indeed. You are remarkably well preserved. Not a gray hair to be seen, for what, three and twenty?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“Then please accept belated birthday wishes. May I join you?”

“Certainly.”

He sat next to her on the small settee, his proximity making her heart beat faster. “I didn't know you liked Madeira.”

“I don't.”

“Allow me to get you a glass of wine.” He gestured to a waiter.

“I would be grateful, thank you.”

He fixed her with a blue-eyed stare. “You are looking well.”

“Thank you. And so do you.” She wished her heart would slow a little from its relentless pounding. He wore his golden hair long, tied with a black, velvet ribbon, while other men wore theirs short and carefully windswept. It was like him to defy the popular mode of dress. His black coat of superfine needed no padding at the shoulder, fitting tightly around his slim waist. His waistcoat was also black, as were his satin breeches. His cravat pin was his only adornment. He stood out in a crowd of glittering jaybirds, a blond devil, no doubt secure in the knowledge that women would fall under his spell. Realizing she was also on dangerous ground, Selena steeled herself to remain indifferent to his charms, but her heart didn't seem to be listening.

“I don't like that pasty color on you, though,” he said. “It's quite the wrong green for you.”

She drew a sharp breath as she smoothed the skirt of her white muslin gown, woven and trimmed with pale green. “Oh?”

“I'm sorry, but you know I'm inclined to blunt speaking,” he confessed, not looking the slightest bit sorry. “You should wear a green that matches your eyes.” He touched the emerald pin glowing among the folds of his white cravat. “This green would be perfect.”

“I am as yet unmarried, Lord Devereux,” she managed to splutter.

“Oh right. Insipid colors for the virginal,” he said. A wicked gleam came into his eyes. “I have an excellent plan that will take care of both these problems.”

She gasped and looked around. “I refuse to listen to it, Lord Devereux. You are not to be encouraged. You shall ruin my reputation. It doesn't matter about yours. It is already lost.”

“Come out onto the terrace where no one will hear us.”

“I will most certainly do nothing of the kind!”

He put his hand on her arm. “Curse it, Selena. I will behave myself. I give you my word. I need to talk to you.”

Selena looked around. It wouldn't do to be seen shrugging him off. “I shall give you five minutes, but I can't imagine there's anything you want to say to me. We've said it all before.”

They took a turn about the terrace, passing other couples enjoying the mild evening air. Braziers burned in their sconces along the wall. Strains of the Sussex Waltz with flute and violin floated through the open doorway. Lord Devereux's features, lit by moonlight, were classically handsome, a noble forehead, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a mouth and dimpled chin that made a woman weak in the knees. He settled against the balustrade beside her with a casual grace that never seemed to desert him. His heavy-lidded eyes gazed down into hers. It should have been breathtakingly romantic and for a brief moment, it was.

“Selena, I must marry for money,” he said bluntly.

She turned away, feeling he'd grasped her heart and squeezed it.

He reached out and gripped her arm, his fingers burning into the flesh between her glove and capped sleeve. “Don't go yet, Selena. I know I'm too direct. I can't be dishonest with you. Don't know why.”

“That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” she said dryly.

He gave a brief laugh. Taking her by the shoulders, he searched her face. “I have no desire to marry. Don't doubt I should make a very poor husband. In my defense, I'll never consciously be cruel to you, and can offer you a title that goes back to the Norman Conquest. And by way of consolation, I like you.”

“And desire my fortune.”

He shrugged. “Halcrow Hall is falling into disrepair and its lands lie fallow. My great, great grandfather lost a considerable amount of money when his ships were sunk during England's war against Spain. The family fortunes have been dashed on the rocks ever since. I can't bear to see it happen, Selena.”

She drew breath at the fire and passion glowing in his blue eyes. It wasn't for her, but she still found herself helplessly caught up in it. All her resolve and her commonsense failing her like a fortress falling in battle. “You now intend to devote your life to restoring the mansion and its lands?”

“Yes. I must pay off my father's creditors,” he said simply. “I've sold out of the army, and am now living on borrowed time.”

“Why now?”

He shook his head and grinned. “I turned twenty-nine and wanted to live beyond thirty.”

“I must say I'm surprised they let you while the war is still raging,” she said.

His blue eyes searched hers, for a sign, no doubt, that she wavered.

“Why me? There are other heiresses. Pretty ones.”

“I'll be damned if I'll get leg-shackled to a shallow bore or a long-nosed, humorless wench.” He opened his eyes wide. “Or a blue stocking!”

She laughed. “Not all of them, surely.”

He shook his head. “I've looked them all over, believe me. You're the only one I could consider spending any time with.”

“Well at least you don't pay me Spanish coin.”

He grinned. “And many men do?”

“I have had my fill of suitors. My sister Anne is determined to have me married off before the year is out.”

“Then marry me, Selena. Say you will.”

She could not be expected to keep refusing him, she thought crossly. She was only flesh and blood after all. What woman on earth could resist the pleas of a man such as Devereux? The last of the fortifications around her heart gave way.

“We might arrange a marriage of convenience, of sorts, I suppose,” she said cautiously. It would certainly get the pesky matchmakers and fortune hunters off her back and provide her with a home of her own. She refused to consider what her real reason might be, to see his face at breakfast every morning. A thought struck her. Would she be leaving her tidy, organized life for one of hellish proportions?

“Don't think I'll live with you without the pleasures of the marriage bed,” he warned, breaking into her thoughts.

“Oh! Do hush, my lord.” Her face grew hot and she glanced around. Another couple stood at the end of the terrace engrossed in their own conversation.

“I wanted to make that plain.”

She suppressed a shiver of anticipation as his strong, agile body leaned towards her. She found herself wondering what he looked like naked, the feel of his skin, the muscles and bones beneath. The tautness of a male body against the softness of hers.

She swallowed. “Then ask me properly.” Had she gone mad? This was a recipe for a broken heart if ever there was one.

As Lord Devereux sank down on one knee before her, an exclamation of delight came from the woman at the other end of the terrace.

If only you knew, Selena thought.

“Miss Wakefield, will you do the honor of becoming my wife?” he said in a throbbing accent, making her want to giggle. “I shall cherish you for all the rest of your life. Should dissipation not carry me off before you,” he added wickedly.

“I will. Now please get up,” she said, “before we become a spectacle, and have the gossips chattering for months.”

He rose and took her by the waist pulling her to him, his musky scent enveloping her. “They will anyway. Let's seal it with a kiss.” He brought his mouth down on hers before she could protest, probing with his tongue and rendering her shocked and breathless.

“Oh! That's so romantic,” the lady said to her companion.

Devereux drew away. When she could find her voice, Selena said weakly. “You promised to behave.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Two

“Are you sure you are doing the right thing, Sel?” Anne asked anxiously. “Some of Devereux's exploits that Hugh's told me about, I could not repeat to you. Hugh says he's shockingly loose in the haft.”

Her sister had repeatedly asked her this question for the past three Sundays, after the bans were read in church. That Devereux was known to have vices and scant respect for proprieties was no surprise to her. “Don't tell me he has killed someone in a duel?”

“Pinked a lady's husband when a young man, I believe. It was hushed up at the time, because of his age. But it's not just married women, some.... “her voice grew faint, “Incognitas, I believe they're called.”

“He is an unwed man, Anne. At least they aren't Haymarket ware.”

“Selena! Where do you hear these things?”

“I read, my dear sister.”

“I've told Hugh not to supply you with books a lady should never read!”

“Please don't blame your husband for my impropriety,” Selena said.

“The Hussars are known to be fearfully wild.” Anne turned a worried face towards her. “Some men can't be tamed, Sel, perhaps its bad family blood.”

She gave Anne the same answer she'd given her every Sunday. “I just know he's the only man I'll ever love.”

“But, darling. You can learn to love someone,” Anne said. “And you can just as easily fall out of love with someone.”

“Then it's a gamble either way.” Selena took off her straw bonnet enjoying the last of the summer warmth on her face.

Anne slipped an arm around her waist as they strolled down the leafy lane towards the house. The children and the three dogs romped ahead. “We shall all miss you terribly.”

“Oh, and I you. Every one of you. Even Busker.”

Anne gurgled with laughter. “Oh no. Not Busker!”

Busker was the children's large, white rabbit that was sometimes brought into the house to run riot among the cats and dogs.

“I believe we are firm friends. Particularly when I hand feed him carrots.”

“You are going to make a beautiful bride, Sel.”

“Liar,” Selena said softly. “I look horrid in white.”

“Put your hat back on, darling,” Anne said tactfully.

“Think, Anne. I shall never have to wear white again.”

Anne laughed. “Oh, I hope he makes you happy, Sel. You deserve it, you really do. Taking care of Mamma, then Papa, and now us.”

“I like to care for the people I love.”

Anne shook her head. “And you love Devereux.”

“Yes. God help me, I do.”

“He'd better measure up, or Hugh and I will come pounding on his door.”

“Promise me you won't, Anne. It's time I took care of myself.”

“It should be a wonderful adventure.”

“I'm sure it will be,” Selena said with a false note of confidence.

Pushing the gate, they entered the grounds of the pretty, manor house with its creamy walls and cottage garden. They walked up the path bordered by lavender. “You can always come back to us,” Anne said rather wistfully.

“Thank you, darling.” Selena bent to break off a stem of lavender. It was known to be calming, but had no effect whatsoever on the excitement coursing through her. She held it to her nose. She knew that no matter how hard things became, she would never return to live here.

* * * *

The morning wedding was a small affair. Devereux wished it that way, and his bride-to-be agreed. There were only twenty guests to fill out the pews of the tiny, Bath church, with all but one from the bride's side of the family. If Bath was hoping for the ton to come en masse, they were destined to be disappointed, for only an aged bachelor uncle of Devereux's attended. If Gyles died without progeny, the family name would die with him. Selena had come to understand his need for an heir, and possibly his desire to remove himself from the dangers of war until it came about.

It seemed like a good sign when, after a week of rain, the sun came out. Anne had decorated the church with white roses, heliotrope and lavender. Festoons of flowers hung around the church door and white ribbons adorned the end of each pew.

Selena wore off-white, Mechlin lace over a slip of gossamer white satin. Her hair ornamented with a bandeau of pearls. Her mother's pearls, the something old, hung at her throat and dangled from her ears. A small diamond broach, borrowed from Anne, snuggled into the lace at her breast. Blue ribbon was sewn into the lining of her gown. She held a bouquet of full, creamy-white roses.

Devereux stood alone at the altar. He turned to watch her as Hugh escorted her down the aisle. When she reached his side, he winked. He wore a deep-blue tailcoat that highlighted his fair hair and blue eyes, fall-front grey breeches, white waistcoat, snowy frilled shirt and cravat. He looked so handsome, she almost lost her breath.

They were to honeymoon in London. Their wedding night spent at an inn just outside Reading on the way. After a simple, wedding breakfast with Anne and Hugh at their home, the newly married couple climbed into the carriage. Selena threw her bouquet into the waiting hands of one of the young girls.

As the carriage turned the corner, Gyles took her hand, smiling down at her. “That went well, didn't it?”

“Wonderful,” she said smiling back.

“Regrets?”

She shook her head.

He squeezed her hand. “You look very nice.”

She had changed into a carriage dress of grey twill with three rows of silk frogs and a matching pelisse. “Thank you.”

“I shall enjoy advising you on your clothes.”

“Shall you?”

“One day we'll go shopping in Paris. The French fashions are incomparable.”

Selena smiled and leaned back, closing her eyes. She pushed away the thought that he would be an expert on lady's fashions from underwear to outerwear. Was she to be compared to a bevy of beauties? She felt his thigh press against hers as he leaned towards her. It was enough that he wanted her. She was determined to make it a good marriage.

“You've had a very busy few days, you must be tired.”

“Pleasantly so.”

“Perhaps a rest before dinner?”

Did he really mean to rest? Her heart started to beat faster. Did people make love in the daylight? She felt her cheeks burn as the uncertainty returned. She felt so unprepared for this. Anne tried to advise her, but was easily embarrassed herself. Selena did know the mechanics of it. She was a country girl after all. But the idea of making love in broad daylight suddenly seemed overwhelming.

“Perhaps we could take a walk. I've seen little of the countryside around Reading,” she said.

One corner of his mouth twitched and his heavy lidded eyes gleamed. He traced her trembling lip with his finger. “Then so you shall. Tomorrow. We'll have time before we leave.”

She sat ramrod straight for the rest of the trip and by the time the carriage pulled into the inn's forecourt, she felt exhausted.

The inn proved to be an excellent one with fragrant aromas wafting from the kitchens. Gyles had arranged for a bedchamber and private parlor. Selena nervously followed the servant girl up the stairs, leaving him to see to the arrangements for the morning.

While she waited for him to come, she took off her hat and gloves and neatened her hair, then sat in a chair by the fire. The best part of an hour passed. Her husband was probably drinking in the bar. At the thought, she felt unwanted, disappointed and relieved at the same time. Pleased to see dusk approaching, she lay her head against the back of the chair for a moment to rest.

She woke shivering. The room was cold and gloomy, lit by moonlight and the fire had gone out.

“Gyles?” she called, but there was no answer. She fumbled at the table, found a candle and lit it. She held it high and walked around the room. Her trunk was still unpacked where the servant had left it. She went to the window. Down below, the courtyard was shadowy and still. She opened the door, but the inn was dark. Everyone had gone to bed.

Retreating to the bed, she crawled under the covers. She lay tossing and turning until a cock crowed and a watery sun rose in the sky. The inn was stirring. A stagecoach had pulled in and departed again, loaded up with trunks, bandboxes and passengers heading for London. She went down to the coffee room. “Have you seen my husband, Lord Devereux?” she asked a servant girl.

“Ye husband? ‘e left yesterday.”

“He left? You must be mistaken.”

She shook her head. “'e was outside the inn, and I saw a carriage come for ‘im. Not long after you arrived.”

“You saw him get into a carriage?”

“When the carriage was gone, so was ‘e.”

Selena sat down with a thump. She'd been deserted before her marriage even began. By law, he was now in possession of her fortune and she could nothing about it.

Shame caused her face to burn like fire as an icy dread spread from her stomach up through her chest. She knew this was not a love match, but she never expected such shabby treatment from him. She'd thought she'd seen something in him, a nobility of spirit. But she'd been wrong.

“Please alert the coachman to bring the Earl's carriage to the door, please,” she said, rising and smoothing her skirts.

The girl studied her curiously. “Certainly y'ladyship.”

Selena swallowed as she felt bile rise. It was ironic. She had given up her fortune for a Title. She bit her lip as a slow burning anger took hold of her. She would not go home disgraced to be a burden on her sister.

There was no sign of Gyles’ baggage. When the carriage arrived, she had her luggage brought down. “I wish to go to Halcrow Hall.” she instructed the coachman.

He shook his head. “I'm to take you back to Bath, my lady.”

“Not Bath thank you, Barnes. Halcrow Hall,” she repeated. It was now her home and she would live in it, whether Gyles wanted her there or not.

“Certainly, my lady.”

Selena felt she couldn't ask him if her husband left any instructions and the coachman didn't offer any. She climbed in and leaned back against the squab, then dug into her reticule for her handkerchief to stem the tears threatening to fall.

In the late afternoon, the carriage turned through the gates of Halcrow Hall and her stomach began to churn afresh. She'd been so angry she hadn't thought things through. What if he was here and wanted her gone?

She wiped her eyes and tucked a stray curl away. She couldn't believe it of him. There was a lot she could believe, but not this. He was wild and unreliable, but not cruel. He had promised never to be deliberately cruel, hadn't he?

The carriage wound its way through the home wood. It was so overgrown and gloomy, she saw only brief glimpses of the sky and neither bird nor animal made an appearance. As her spirits sank to her boots, they emerged into the sunlight again. They were on the crest of a hill. The road wound down to a fast flowing river and a stone bridge. The roof and chimneys of a great, stately home appeared above the horizon.

They crossed the stone bridge and climbed the hill. Reaching the top, parklands stretched away for miles. The carriage rattled along a road as straight as an arrow, bordered by gnarled, ancient oak trees. The majestic old house lay at the far end. The going was rough, the road bumpy and rutted. A wheel hit a deep hole and the carriage tilted alarmingly. Selena heard the coachman curse as he cracked his whip. They passed gardens choked with bramble and wild roses. Ivy strangled everything in its path and moss painted the classical statues green. The original shape of the topiary hedges was but a memory.

As they approached the old Elizabethan house with its mullioned windows, towers, oriels and large ornamented chimney stacks, Selena saw with shock that ivy had grown unchecked over the walls, covering some of the ground floor windows. Upstairs, window shutters hung from broken, rusted hinges. She felt sure the massive roof would have slates broken, and the rooms inside moldy with damp.

The whole place seemed eerily silent and deserted. The carriage pulled up in front and the coachman assisted her down then went to remove her luggage.

The front door remained closed.

Selena climbed the steps to the door and seized the brass knocker, wrapping once. She heard the noise echo throughout the house. Minutes passed before footsteps approached. She took a deep breath as the door was unlatched and creaked open.

A silver-haired man in a rusty, black coat and pantaloons stood there. He looked surprised. “Yes?”

“I am Lady Devereux. Can you have my luggage brought in, please?”

“Certainly, my lady.” The man clapped his hands.

A dark-haired youth rushed from the direction of the stables. “Bring Lady Devereux's luggage, Joseph. Take it to the yellow suite.”

“Right you are then,” Joseph said. He raised his hat. “You're the new lady of the house.”

She nodded.

“This place sure needs a woman's touch,” Joseph said, hefting her trunk onto his shoulder.

“Enough of your lip, Joseph,” the butler said. “This way, my lady.”

Selena followed him into the Great Hall and stopped, gasping at the extravagant oak carving, the tapestries and the armor.

“How wonderful,” she murmured, feeling crushed by its size and dilapidated magnificence.

“It was built by Robert Devereux, Sixth Earl of Halcrow, in 1601,” the butler said his voice ringing with pride. “The tapestries represent mythological subjects. They form part of a set of Brussels tapestries of the seventeenth century, the previous Lady Devereux brought from France as part of her dowry.”

She followed him up the oak staircase, each pillar topped by an ornately carved figure.

“You'll have to excuse Joseph, my lady. He is not used to having anyone stay in the house. But he's eager to learn.”

“I'm sure he is.”

She'd been right. Fingers of mold crept through the cracks in the carved plaster ceilings. They walked along a portrait gallery that appeared to run the length of the house. It contained the history of her husband's family and she was keen to return and study each painting, convinced that the secrets to Gyles’ character lay there.

The butler opened a door and stood aside for Selena to enter. She walked into the center of the room removing her gloves and looked around. The stately, yellow suite was in a sad state of repair, and a musty smell hung in the air here also. The yellow silk Chinoiserie bed curtains were grey with dust. The walls covered in faded green wallpaper. But the Aubusson carpet seemed in good order and the graceful, French furniture thankfully had survived possibly years of neglect. Under the window, a dainty desk on curvy legs sat ready for correspondence. Gilt wood side tables and chairs were placed around the room, and by the fire sat a fine, deep rose velvet chair, carved and gilded. It was a woman's room.

“Was this Lady Devereux's room?” she asked the butler.

“Why yes, my lady.”

Selena removed her pelisse and bonnet and metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. She went to the windows and threw them open. The view over the south aspect was both magnificent and heart-rending. The garden was a series of forecourts, parterres, arcades, fountains and terraces leading away from the house towards an ornamental lake in the distance, all neglected and overgrown.

She turned back to the butler. “I don't know your name.”

“It's Frobisher, my lady.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us, Frobisher.”

The man's eyes lit up. “Yes, my lady.”

“We may as well start with this room.” Selena ran her finger along the top of a table and dust swirled into the air. “Send two servants to clean. But first, please have a luncheon tray sent up. A light collation shall suffice.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“After luncheon, I shall meet the staff. Then I'll view the rest of the house.”

“In the house, there's just me, Joseph, cook, that's Mrs. Marshall, Sarah, the up-stairs maid and Alice, who does downstairs and helps cook.”

“My goodness. Sarah and I shall have to make do, then.” Selena was shocked to think such a small staff ran Halcrow. No wonder it was in such a state.

She watched as Sarah opened her trunk and removed her trousseau gowns from their silver paper. Gyles had not liked her going-away costume that much was plain. He felt pearls didn't suit her. He just didn't admire her looks. There was little she could about it and she refused to dwell on it.

She was so consumed with what needed to be done, she hadn't stopped to consider that this was Gyles’ childhood home. She looked out the window and envisaged the small, blond boy playing with a ball in the grounds. She would have to seek out his bedchamber, and the nursery. There may be clues to his past and his present whereabouts. She wanted to ask the staff if they'd had word from him, but was embarrassed and afraid the answer may cause her momentum to falter. When he did finally come home, she planned to be ready for him.

She was told that Gyles used the blue suite when at home. She found it cleaner and better cared for than the rest of the house. His clothes were folded neatly in the drawers of the mahogany armoire. The room still needed a thorough clean, however. She would make sure the carpets were taken up, the windows and walls washed down and the furniture polished. Freshly aired, clean bed linen would be changed regularly until he returned. A fire lay ready to be lit at a moment's notice. Strange, there was nothing even as personal as a snuff box in the room.

Her first job would be to employ servants, workmen and gardeners. The sooner the better. Heavens, then there were the stables and the home farm to see to. If the lunch that was sent up to her was anything to go by, there was a good supply of fresh produce. The mushroom soup was creamy and the chicken pie delicious, with a flaky pastry light as air. Only the hands of an accomplished cook could produce it. Selena ate heartily at a small table placed close to the fire. She hadn't eaten since her wedding breakfast the day before and even then she had been too excited to do more than nibble.

She was pleased that cook was so competent. It would make things much easier, not to have to put anyone off. She already liked most of the staff who wandered the vast mansion like ghosts. Lord Devereux came very seldom of late, Frobisher told her. Said the place made him miserable.

As well it might, she thought.

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Chapter Three

A month had passed since Selena first arrived at Halcrow Hall. She still hadn't heard a word from Gyles. During the daytime, she was so busy she barely gave him a thought. The nights, however, were interminably long. She sat down at the desk in her room many times, rising without putting pen to paper. Apart from a brief note to tell her relatives that she was here at Halcrow Hall and feeling well, she'd said nothing more. She'd received a letter from Anne asking why they hadn't gone to London. She was relieved to learn that Anne was keeping well and wrote back immediately. She didn't tell her what had happened, because she knew it would bring Hugh running. And that was the last thing she wanted.

She made a thorough search of the house for anything that might give her clues to Gyles’ whereabouts. The nursery, still with the cricket bats, balls and wooden toys of two small boys, had almost disappeared under a thick layer of dust. It obviously hadn't been visited in years. She picked up a much-loved, one-armed teddy bear and tears came into her eyes. This confused her. She loathed Gyles for what he'd done to her, didn't she? It was just that she knew Gyles’ younger brother had been killed ten years ago in a riding accident. Both parents had never recovered from the grief of losing their favorite child, or so Gyles had told her.

As soon as word was put out that Halcrow Hall was to be restored, a long line of people formed at the door seeking work. Frobisher showed them in to Selena, one at a time, to be interviewed. She hired a housekeeper, a Mrs. Lillicrop, to replace the last one who'd apparently thrown up hands in despair and departed months ago to live with her brother's family, two new stable hands to work with Joseph, three men to assist the head gardener and a new under-gardener. Sarah was made lady's maid and three more young girls were employed about the house, plus another kitchen hand to work with Mrs. Marshall.

It was a start. Selena engaged the services of a dozen workmen. Carpenters to mend broken fences and shutters and replace rotted timbers, laborers to work with the gardeners, stripping off the ivy and doing the heavy work in the grounds, painters needed for every room, roofers to patch up leaks and replace broken slate, and stonemasons to repair walls and paths and fill the holes in the carriageway.

Concentrating on the reception rooms and a mere handful of bedrooms, Selena donned an apron and supervised the work. The carpets and rugs were beaten over a line in the open air. The furniture polished until she could see her face in it. Most responded to her enthusiasm, because it was good for the village too.

Selena spent hours putting the accounts and pensions in order. She purchased a horse for her to ride about the estate. She restocked the home farm with two more cows for milking, pigs, chickens, ducks and geese. She discussed the planting of vegetables with the head gardener and menus with Mrs. Marshall.

The days grew shorter and the air turned brisk and fresh. She wasn't sure if her broken heart had anything to do with it, but the nights grew longer and colder far too quickly.

* * * *

Another month passed. Selena woke up one morning to feel frost crunch beneath her boots. When she spoke to Frobisher, steam came from her lips. Winter had come early, echoing the feeling in her heart. But she was pleased with the results of all the hard work. With the weeds stripped away, the brilliance of the garden design was revealed. The gardener assured her that next spring would bring a wonderful display. A good part of the house was now spotless and the staff organized into keeping it that way.

Selena donned a pair of Gyles’ breeches to ride about the estate, rolling up the bottoms. At first, the villagers were shocked, but they soon grew used to the eccentric, Lady Devereux. Frobisher relayed the local gossip to her. Even the most straitlaced felt with her husband away at the wars, it was commendable that she take the man's role about the estate.

Every day, she rode out to check on the progress, heading out towards the boundaries, exploring something new each time. Some days she took her lunch and was gone all day.

Selena thought this to be fine land, sheltered by the hills from the harshest weather with excellent, rich soil. After an initial cold snap, the weather was fine and cool. She sat with her back against a tree, eating her bread and cheese beneath a willow by the river as a ploughman might. Firefly, her bay gelding pulled at the grass nearby.

She finished her lunch and mounted Firefly, riding down the hill to the woods. It was like entering a different world. There was still much work to be done here. When a cloud covered the sun it became dark as night. Ahead, the bushes rustled, but no animal emerged. Firefly picked his way over broken tree branches and bracken. Selena sensed a presence. It caused a chill to travel up to the nape of her neck. Poachers. She turned to gaze into the dense foliage but could see nothing.

“Is there anyone there?”

She heard crashing noises and the footfall of someone running away. Bushes shook and branches swayed, and she saw a blur of movement. Feeling a shiver rise up her spine to stir the hairs on the back of her neck, she turned Firefly's head towards the light and urged him into a canter. Sure-footed, the horse answered her urging. He jumped a fallen tree and pushed through the undergrowth, back onto the trail. They burst into the daylight and galloped down the hill. Crossing the stone bridge, the powerful horse climbed the steep slope with ease. She reined him in at the top of the rise and looked back over the woods. It looked peaceful enough and she dismissed it.

Serena loved to ride, to feel the wind on her face and the stallion moving beneath her. She had been advised to buy a mare, but she was strong and found she could handle him well enough. She walked him along the avenue of trees leading to the house and the temptation became too great, she nudged him into a full gallop. They raced towards the house, hooves clattering over the carriageway. When she grew closer to the house, she pulled the horse up sharply.

A carriage stood at the door. Joseph, in his footman's uniform that had failed to keep him away from the stables, was in the act of opening the carriage door. He bowed to someone inside and went to take a portmanteau from the coachman.

Gyles stepped out, his fur-collared, travelling coat resting across his shoulders. He pulled off his hat and gloves and looked around.

He saw her.

She held Firefly in check as the bay danced about. Gyles looked thinner, his face pale and his cheeks hollow. Burning the candles at both ends, no doubt, she thought angrily, unnerved by the joy that rose in her like a swallow on the wing.

Joseph came forward to take the reins and she jumped down. Gyles’ blue eyes looked bloodshot as he studied her. “You've done all this?”

“I've changed nothing, Gyles. Merely begun to repair it.” Her voice sounded calm and measured while her heart pounded.

“You were riding astride.” His gaze travelled over her. “Don't you have a riding habit?”

She put her hand to her waist where his trousers were hitched up with a belt. “I was going to have one made in London. Remember? Anyway, you're clothes are more serviceable than mine.”

An eyebrow rose and his blue eyes glittered. “Serviceable, Lady Devereux?”

He sounded almost savage. She felt her cheeks burn with anger and humiliation. All of a sudden she was the guilty one.

“Where did that stallion come from?”

“I purchased Firefly to ride around the estate.”

“Did you travel here to Halcrow alone?”

“You gave me little choice,” she said dryly.

He shivered, and she started, suddenly aware he wasn't well. “You're ill, Gyles.”

“The cursed influenza. I'll be right after a rest.”

“You must come inside, it's cold.”

She turned to Joseph who was standing waiting for instructions. “Take Firefly to the stables, get him rubbed down, fed and watered, please.”

Gyles followed her inside the house.

“There's a fire in the library, I'll call for tea.” It was as if this was her house and he a guest in it. She wondered if he resented it.

“This is my favorite room, too,” he said, looking around at the walls lined to the ceiling with shelf upon shelf of bound tomes. A tall ladder gave access to those out of reach. He collapsed into a leather chair by the fireplace, leaning back and placing his boots on a leather ottoman. There was a ridge of high-color along his cheekbones.

She came up to him and could not resist placing her hand on his brow. It was burning. “You must go to bed, Gyles. I have a room prepared for you.”

“Not the marriage bed then, Lady Devereux,” he said, giving a laugh that turned into a cough.

Selena picked up the bell and rang it. A minute later, the new housekeeper came in.

“Gyles, this is Mrs. Lillicrop, our new housekeeper,” she said, as the small woman in black came to stand before him with her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Welcome to Halcrow Hall, Mrs. Lillicrop,” Gyles said.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Have a hot brick placed in the bed in the blue suite, please, Mrs. Lillicrop,” Selena said. “And the fire lit. Tell cook I want a tisane brewed. Oh, and send to the stables for Joseph. I need him to go on an errand.”

She turned, finding Gyles watching her as he lay back in the chair. “Come, let me help you to bed, Gyles.”

“Thank you,” he said with quiet dignity, climbing slowly to his feet. He stumbled and leaned his hand on her shoulder.

When they reached the blue suite with its freshly distempered walls and refurbished, royal blue and gold silk bed curtains, he said quietly. “My, my.”

He almost fell onto the bed and lay there breathing heavily.

“I'll send Frobisher here to help you undress,” she said turning away.

“You do it, Selena,” he asked. “Please?”

She removed his cravat and helped him out of his coat. Then she began to unbutton his shirt. Underneath, his skin was silky smooth, the muscles of his chest defined, his belly flat and hard. As she pulled off his shirt, she saw bruises on his back. “But what's this?”

“Never mind what it is,” Gyles said roughly. “It's the reason I asked you to help me. I want nothing said about it, understand?”

She nodded. Gyles lay down as Joseph came in.

“Joseph, I want you to go the village and fetch the doctor,” she said. “Take the trap and go straight away. Tell him it's urgent.”

“Right away, milady,” Joseph said, hurrying to the door.

“There's a clean nightshirt in my bag,” Gyles said weakly. “Help me off with my britches.”

She hesitated.

“Now's not the time to be prudish, woman,” he said. “You're in no danger from me.” He laughed. “My spirit is always willing, but the flesh.... “He broke off as another coughing fit shook him.

“When you're well again, perhaps you'll tell me what this is all about.”

“Better that you don't know, Selena.”

“I shall be the judge of that.” Feeling his body, softly coiled beneath her fingers, she fumbled with his trouser buttons.

“As you see,” he said with a trace of irony, “quite safe.”

Her face burned. She grabbed the bottoms of his trousers and pulled hard. He wore no underwear. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his maleness.

“Not quite at my best,” he said, between clenched teeth. “I'm as weak as a kitten.”

“Let's get you into bed.”

“I told you it would be a poor bargain you'd get with me, girl.”

She took the fresh, white lawn nightshirt from his bag and threw it over his head, dressing him as she did Anne's children. As she pulled it down, her face came close to his and she stared into his feverish eyes.

He moved with a speed that surprised her, one arm coming tight around her waist, the other cupping her chin to raise her face to his. “I want to kiss you, dammit,” he said, his blue eyes raking hers. “But I won't pass this on to you.”

She pulled away wishing he had. “Thank you for that.”

“Not in love with me anymore, then,” he said.

“What makes you think I ever was? Oh, sorry, I'm a weak female, so I must be.”

He gave a hoot of laughter. It turned into a hacking cough that left him breathless.

“Why did you marry me then?” he asked, when he could get his breath.

“A home of my own,” she said, forgiving herself the lie.

“You could have had that with any number of men.”

“There's your title.” She said it in defense, so that he would not discover her secret and judge her a poor thing. She regretted it the moment it was out of her mouth.

He gazed into her eyes with his eyebrows raised. “Do you know, Selena, I doubted a title would mean much to you. Or do I not know you at all?”

Someone scratched at the door and Mary entered with a bowl of cold water and a cloth.

Selena tucked the sheets and blankets around him, adding another blanket for good measure. She dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it out, placing it on his forehead.

He reached up and took hold of her wrist, encircling it with his long fingers. “Have you been lonely here?”

“I've been busy.”

“I see that. But the nights, lonely and bored?”

“I like to read.”

“By candlelight?” He grinned and kissed the inside of her wrist. “You'll ruin your eyes.”

“You shouldn't talk. You should rest,” she chided him, removing her hand from his grasp.

He shut his eyes and soon fell into a heavy slumber. She went to the fire and stabbed at it as sparks flew up the chimney. She would have to send for more firewood. After the doctor had been, she would stay here with him until morning.

She was that weak female she spoke of so scathingly. Whatever he was, whatever he'd done, she loved him, but she would not give in to his wishes. Instinct told her to do so would be a mistake. She needed time. She didn't understand him. He had not apologized for deserting her, or given her a reason. He had not said what she'd done here had pleased him, instead, it appeared to cause him pain.

She watched his face as he slept. In repose, he was even more handsome. If she could not offer him beauty, she would gain his respect. And he must earn hers.

What she refused to consider for a moment was that he might die.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Four

“Will he recover?” Selena asked.

The elderly doctor clucked his tongue. “He's a strong man. I expect he will pull through. Should have been resting up the moment this hit him, not gallivanting round the countryside. He was always a difficult patient and I don't see any evidence that he's changed.”

Gyles had woken briefly to tell the doctor to keep his potions to himself. Rest was all he needed.

“Keep the room as warm as you can. And give him this three times a day,” he handed Selena a bottle of medicine. “I'll come again tomorrow.”

“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Doctor,” Selena said.

“We doctors always scurry to the gentry,” he said, his grey eyes twinkling. “Don't know why, they seldom pay their bills.”

“I'll take care of it.”

He shook his head dismissively. “I've known Gyles since he was in short pants. I'm glad he has married and I'm very glad it's you. What you've done here is little short of a miracle.”

He paused at the door. “You might have him bathed. If nothing else, it will make him feel better.”

After the doctor had gone, Selena called for hot water, soap and towels. In the flickering candlelight she rolled up his nightshirt and began to wipe the sweat away, dipping the cloth in the water, wringing it out and stroking his body, before gently toweling it dry. She started at his toes, discovering with inner delight, every perfect inch of his body. She left that awkward part until last, fearing she would wake him.

It had to be done. She was tentatively dabbing at his groin when his manhood stirred and stood to attention.

“Can't I take my eyes off you for a minute?” an amused voice said. She looked up to find him awake.

“The doctor told me to wash you.”

“I must thank him when I see him. Please continue, but be careful. What you begin, I may finish.”

She covered him with the sheet. Pouring out a spoonful of medicine she slipped it between his parched lips. He closed his eyes again and was quickly asleep.

“Promises, promises,” she said softly.

He rolled over and she studied the bruises, now turning yellow. What on earth had he been doing? A fight with an outraged husband? She gently washed his strong back and rounded backside, then patted him dry and pulled down his nightshirt, tucking him in. He didn't stir.

Exhausted, she lay down on an intricately scrolled chaise lounge, finding it extremely uncomfortable. She pulled a rug over herself. Dozing, she rose several times during the night to tuck him in after he'd tossed off all his bedclothes. He moaned and muttered and even cried out once or twice, but she couldn't understand a word of it.

She woke as the first pale rays of sunlight appeared round the edge of the curtains. The room was deathly quiet. Fear clutched at her throat. She threw off the rug and rushed to the bed. He was sleeping peacefully. She felt his forehead, it was blessedly cool.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She excused it as weakness. She was exhausted. Tiptoeing back to her temporary bed, she fell into a deep sleep.

* * * *

Selena opened her eyes. She must have slept for hours. She sat up quickly, her head spinning and looked over at the bed. He was lying with one hand supporting his head, watching her.

She rose and straightened her gown. “Do you feel better?”

“I do, thank you. You should not have forsaken your bed for me, Selena.”

“It's of no consequence, any wife would do the same.”

He studied her. “Your hair is coming down.”

She put a hand to her hair, aware she must look a terrible fright. She walked to the door. “I'll go and tidy up and arrange your breakfast.”

“First, come here.”

She swallowed. “Why?”

“You ask too many questions. Come here. Your lord and master has spoken.”

She brought her chin up defiantly and met his gaze. “I'll return in a little while.”

His heavy-lidded blue eyes studied her with amusement. He patted the bed. “What if I ask nicely?”

Suddenly breathless, she came to perch on the edge of the bed beside him.

He reached up and began to remove the last of the pins holding her hair. As it fell to her waist he ran his fingers through it. “I've wanted to see it thus,” he said. “A waterfall of ebony silk.”

“It's brown.”

“No. It has sun-kissed streaks of brown among the black.”

“It's the same as my mother's. Brown.”

“You are being contrary. I like your mouth. It's too wide for beauty, but just right for kissing.”

“Such compliments, you'll turn my head.”

He touched the button on her high collar. “I'd like to see what you keep hidden. It's only fair, you've seen all of me.” He gave a slow smile. “To unwrap you like a present, one piece of clothing at a time.”

“You must be feeling better,” she said, standing quickly. “I'll get your breakfast.”

“No invalid food, mind. A good slab of steak.”

“You'll eat what the doctor said you should eat.”

His eyes widened. “Have I married a harridan? You are taking advantage of my weakness.”

She closed the door behind her and allowed herself a small smile, then hurried to find Sarah.

By nightfall, Gyles was aching and his temperature had risen again. The doctor warned that this would happen and Selena was ready for it. As he tossed and turned fretfully, she attended him, trying to ease him and make him more comfortable. In the morning, after a very bad night for them both, he seemed a little better.

This went on for the better part of a week and at the end of it, the patient had two good nights in a row and was looking a great deal better.

“You are now in the convalescent stage,” the doctor told him. “You must take things carefully. When it's warm enough you may get out of bed and sit in a chair.”

Gyles bore it all stoically and complained little, but Selena sensed when his head or back ached and would give him a tisane or a back rub. He loved the latter and she knew the day was coming when he would be strong enough to want more from her. She longed for that day herself, but she planned to deny them both for a while longer.

At the end of the third week, Gyles was sitting in the morning sun, gazing out the window. Selena saw him impatiently push back a lock of blond hair.

“You need a shave and your hair needs cutting. As you no longer have your batman and we don't have a manservant. I'll send for a barber in the village.”

“You do it.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Aren't you afraid I'll cut your throat?”

He grinned. “Make a good job of it if you do.”

She went away and found his shaving things and a sharp pair of scissors. She returned to throw a towel around his shoulders as he lay back in the chair.

She soaped his face carefully, taking in every loved feature she longed to kiss. As she leaned over him, he moved his knee, positioning it between her legs. A thrill went through her. Unnerved, her hand shook and she hesitated, before making a small scrape at his cheek.

“Not like that, woman,” he said, taking it out of her hands. “Fetch me a mirror.”

She gave him a hand mirror and watched his long fingers grip the razor as he expertly shaved off the beard. “You get used to this in the army,” he said, as he tidied his sideburns.

“You never talk about your army days.”

“Maybe some day I will.” The note of finality in his voice warned her not to pursue it.

He wiped his face with a towel. “That feels better. How do I look?”

He still had dark circles under his eyes. She took a breath, aware of just how sick he'd been. “Much better.”

She picked up the scissors. His hair was almost shoulder length. “How short shall I make it?”

“Just lop off a couple of inches,” he said indifferently.

She leaned in, feeling his shoulder press into her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair. The gold strands were as silky to the touch as they appeared. She combed it and cut the ends with only the sound of their breathing and the click of the scissors in the quiet room. The atmosphere seemed heavy with expectation as her fingers touched the nape of his neck. His hair was so thick it slid away from the scissor blades, making her fear she would hack it out of shape. She parted it and cut it in sections, tuffs of hair falling onto the sheet and the floor.

She moved around to face him and see what she had done. He was looking up at her, his expression one she hadn't seen before. The edgy look she was used to was absent. To be replaced by what? Trust? Not love, surely. She dare not hope for such a thing.

He put an arm around her hips and pulled her onto his lap. “Give me a kiss.”

“You're not well enough yet,” she said, pushing him away and jumping up. Although ever fiber of her being yearned to kiss him, she was afraid to give in to him. She knew if she did all her resolve would be gone, and the war that waged between them, he for her acquiescence, she for his respect if not his love, would be lost.

“I'm going to Bath to visit my sister on Friday.”

He looked up at her uncomprehendingly, “You're going away?”

“You are much better and are in good hands here. The doctor will attend you while I'm away.”

His eyes clouded. “I suppose you do want to get away for a while from all this.”

Her heart ached for him. “Annie's given birth. I have another nephew.”

“Of course you must go. Enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you. Let me tell you what the gamekeeper and I discussed this morning.”

He brightened. “Yes, did you give him my orders?”

She nodded. “He is to have the bramble cleared and some of the dead trees removed to let in the sun, but not all, for they afford the game some protection from foxes. Others pruned of dead wood. As far as restocking goes, game birds have bred uninterrupted to large numbers. The deer also. They must be culled and will provide excellent venison for the table. There's a good supply of salmon in the river, too.”

“I feel well enough to do some fishing,” he said. “I'll have Frobisher bring down the rods and equipment from the attics.”

“That's a good idea. Take care not to get wet. We are coming into winter. It wouldn't be wise.”

“How long will you be away?”

“A month.”

“That long?”

“Anne and the children want to see me.”

He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I'm sure they do.”

“When I come back, Gyles, we must talk.”

“Oh?”

“We have not discussed what happened on the first day of our marriage. I feel it stands between us.”

His eyes narrowed. “I may be weak at the moment, my girl, but you can only push me so far. I will tell you what I choose and when I choose it.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Selena gave him a curtsey and went to the door.

“Selena?”

She turned.

“When you return from Bath, you and I shall begin life as man and wife.”

“How do you know I will return, Gyles?”

“If you're not back here by the end of the month, I'll come and get you.”

Selena went to her room to organize the packing. She was trembling with a surfeit of emotions; anger and disappointment that he didn't love or trust her enough with the truth, and to her great annoyance, she also suffered an overriding desire to have him come to fetch her away and make passionate love to her.

If only she didn't love him so much, she could live with him quite contentedly. She could then even endure the prospect of him seeking love with other women, a practice common among the Ton. Was she fighting a battle that was impossible to win? She wondered if she should give up and try to protect her heart from further assault.

On Friday, Gyles kissed her goodbye. When she drew away in the pretence of fastening her bonnet, she thought she glimpsed sadness in his eyes, but it may have been a trick of the light.

“Have a safe trip,” he said.

“Take care of yourself. I shall be back before you've noticed I've gone.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Who will play chess with me in the evenings?”

“You always win anyway,” she said smiling.

His eyes gleamed. “Not for long I believe.”

He would experience the long dull evenings she had when he was gone, but she didn't wish him to suffer. She could stay longer with Annie until he came for her, but it didn't sit well with her to play games of that sort. And in the deep recesses of her mind, she feared he wouldn't miss her, just merely go on living the life he'd grown used to.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Five

Annie, Hugh and the three children rushed out at the sound of the carriage. Selena was so happy to see them, she fumbled for a handkerchief as tears ran down her cheeks. During the trip, she'd realized how tired she was. She'd thought of nothing but Gyles since he first asked her to marry him. It would be good to think a little of her own needs.

Annie held out the small bundle towards Selena. “Meet Benne.” Selena peered inside the blanket at the snowy-haired cherub, deeply asleep tucked into the blanket.

“He has his papa's strong chin.”

Hugh grinned. “Welcome, Selena,” he said, stepping forward to kiss her on the cheek. “It's delightful to see you. You and your calm good sense have been sorely missed.”

The children had visibly grown in the few months she'd been away. Six-year-old Lucy was determined to bring Selena up to date on the fate of their pets. One guinea pig had passed away and had been buried in the orchard. The poorly named Rupert, one of their cats, had had a litter of kittens and Aunt Selena might take the black one with the white paws home with her.

“Not all at once, Lucy,” Annie laughed. “Let Aunt Selena come in and have a cup of tea, first.”

After she washed and shed her travelling clothes, they all gathered in the morning room to drink tea and eat cake.

“Everyone in town is looking forward to seeing you,” Annie said. “We are going to have a party.”

“How lovely,” Selena said, thinking quite the opposite. There would be interminable questions and she would have to throw the truth out of the window to answer them.

The first of them came almost immediately. “Why didn't you go to London?” Annie asked, her delicate brows meeting in a puzzled frown.

Selena knew that her sister was already on full alert to detect any sign of unhappiness. “We just wanted to get home.”

“What's it like, Halcrow Hall?”

“It's very beautiful,” Selena said. “I can't wait for spring when all the flowers are out. Imagine, Annie, acres of blue bells and hyacinths through the woods and daffodils and daisies dotting the meadows. When I first arrived the trees dressed in their autumn foliage were just glorious. Great chestnuts, oaks, birches, maples, cedars and limes.... The garden is of an ancient and very clever design ... the house enormous. It has dozens of rooms. I haven't actually counted them yet. There's a very well-stocked library, if I had time to read, but Gyles and I have been so busy with the restorations. We have great plans for it....”

“Enough, darling,” Annie laughed. “Drink your tea. You have four whole weeks to tell us.”

Selena looked up to see Hugh watching. He winked but he looked uneasy.

* * * *

Although the following weeks were crammed with soirees, picnics, rides in the country and dances at the assembly rooms, Selena felt they crawled by. She could not shed her guilt at leaving Gyles, even though the doctor had assured her he was close to making a full recovery. When she closed her eyes at night she saw his face, and her dreams were filled with him. She would wake up feeling she hadn't slept at all. She longed to return home earlier than planned, but didn't seriously consider it. Annie was so happy to have her there and she held the hope that absence would make Gyles’ heart grow fonder.

The only person she felt she could confide in was Elsbeth Millichamp, who was away in London. She was soon to return and Selena looked forward to seeing her again. When she saw Elsbeth coming up the path, she rushed out to hug her.

“It's so wonderful to see you, Elsbeth. Come into the parlor. Annie, Hugh, baby Benne and the children are away for the afternoon, visiting Hugh's mother.”

“Oh, Selena, how I've missed you,” Elsbeth said, hugging her. She wore a pretty sprig muslin gown under her warm pelisse, her poke bonnet tied with a primrose ribbon. She looked rosy-cheeked and her eyes sparkled.

When they'd settled on the sofa, Elsbeth took Selena's hands in hers. “I have such news, you'll never guess.”

Selena laughed. “Then you shall have to tell me.”

“Freddie Goodwin and I are to be married.”

“How wonderful,” Selena said, delighted for her friend. “Tell me how it came about.”

As Elsbeth described her meeting Freddie again at a ball, Selena decided to say nothing of her troubles.

“But, what about you, Selena? You must be deliriously happy with that handsome husband of yours.”

“Gyles fell ill with the influenza, but he has recovered now.”

“Oh, that's why he didn't come with you. I am sorry. Tell me more about the house, it is known to be very grand, but not in the best repair.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent with light inanities. When Elsbeth departed, promising an invitation to the wedding, Selena felt relieved she hadn't been tempted to burden her friend at such a happy time of her life.

When it came time for her to return to Halcrow Hall, she found she was nervous. She hid it as well as she could, saying a warm goodbye to everyone and hugging a tearful Annie, who promised to visit when Benne was a little older.

As the coach entered the gates, the butterflies ceased battering Selena's stomach. She was home. She leaned forward with interest to watch the men at work in the woods. Piles of dead wood waited to be carted off for fuel. The rest set alight, sending flames and smoke billowing into the grey sky.

Winter had arrived to stay. The ground was all sleet and sludge, the clouds threatening snow. She threw off the carriage rug as they approached the house, hoping to see Gyles. Joseph stood on the steps and Frobisher waited at the open door. The household had known of her coming. Selena felt cold fingers clutch at her heart that had nothing to do with the weather.

She was out of the coach as soon as Joseph put down the step and opened the door.

“How is Lord Devereux?” she asked Frobisher when she reached the top of the steps.

“Gone, early this last week, my lady,” he said.

Her heart sank to somewhere in the region of her half-boots and she couldn't hide her dismay. “Did he say where, Frobisher?”

She saw the concern in the butler's grey eyes. “He received a missive and left the same day. The carriage took him up to London, my lady.”

Selena went to her suite. “Leave the unpacking until later, please, Alice. I'd like to be alone.”

She buried her head in the pillow and cried. She had failed. He did not care one jot for her, beyond having a dutiful wife to fulfill his needs. He respected her so little, he didn't even write to tell her he was leaving, probably for the fleshpots of London.

Questions rushed to fill her mind. Had she been wrong? Should she have stayed and become submissive to his needs? Would he then have fallen in love with her? Her sister's cool assessment of love came back to her. You can fall out of love just as easily as falling into it. Why didn't she believe it of herself?

* * * *

Christmas came to Halcrow and Selena had never felt so lonely. It snowed for the next three weeks without pause. They were virtually cut off from the world and she began to feel horribly shut in. Every morning she woke to find a blinding blanket of white covering the landscape. There was little she could do but wander the house. She spent one day allotted to each of the rooms, tidying while the servants cleaned. The huge reception rooms on the ground floor were the most demanding. Heating them just for her was out of the question. She had taken to wearing mittens while spending any time in them. The library was by far the most cozy of the rooms and a fire was lit there during the day. She took her luncheon there and scoured the shelves for something that might take her fancy. It was an impressive assemblage, she wondered if Gyles had read many of them. There were well-thumbed editions of the Classics on the shelves. She knew so little about him, beyond the fact that he had been educated at Cambridge. Dusting one of the lower shelves, she shook a book and a note fell out. It was written in French. Feeling a little guilty at prying, she carried it to the sofa and sat down to decipher it, her French rusty from neglect.

Dear Gyles, You are in my thoughts, mon amie. I cannot thank you enough for saving Papa from the gallows. I know you could not take me into your confidence about what it is that you both do, and you took a great chance in being exposed. Papa and I shall remain in your debt. You have our undying love and gratitude.

It was signed Marie Clair Delaunay.

Selena read it again carefully, studying every word. Frustratingly, it told her very little and left too much to her imagination. Gyles had acted bravely, if clandestinely. She refused to consider he might be a French spy. She began to wonder what it was the Hussars actually did, and realized she was hopelessly ill informed. She had heard they were dashing and brave, could ride like demons and their swordplay was incomparable. She sat down with pen and paper and wrote to Hugh for more information, saying she wanted to surprise Gyles with her erudition.

A few days later, it stopped snowing only to start raining, but at least the roads to the village were cleared and she could send the letter. Her curiosity roused, she revisited the portrait gallery, studying each of the painted faces there. Gyles inherited his looks from both parents. His mother had dark hair and had been quite beautiful, his father blond and handsome, his blue eyes gazing at the artist with the same deceptively, lazy glance as his son. His features were different though, his lips thinner and his nose high-bridged. The portraits took her back through the centuries, but she came away with only a fleeting notion of the family history. Would her husband ever come back to tell her more?

In the mahogany armoire in Gyles’ bedchamber, she took out his blue hussar uniform, its pelisse trimmed with silver braid and fur edging and the breeches with their leather panels on the inside of the thigh to prevent wear during long periods in the saddle. She examined the leather belt with its polished, silver buckle and curved honors scrolls. How handsome he must have looked in it. On the shelf below sat his shako, boots, saber and a brace of pistols. One pistol missing. She gasped. She told herself there were perfectly logical reasons for its absence.

After a few days, the weather improved and Selena was able to ride around the estate again. The recent rains had caused the river to rise alarmingly, close to breaking its banks. If more rain came soon, the bridge would be flooded and cut them off from the outside world again. She felt if it did she would go mad.

A letter came from Hugh. She rushed to the library to open it. Hugh had sent a ten-page missive, tactfully refraining from asking why she couldn't just ask Gyles. In his opinion, the Hussars were very brave and their work extremely dangerous, consisting mainly of reconnoitering and hit-and-run skirmishing to inform Wellington and disable the enemy. He had great admiration for them, despite what happened at the Battle of Badajoz, almost a year ago. The battle itself, he outlined in great detail for five or six pages, but she skipped over most of it-she would read it later. Thousands of British soldiers were killed and he felt sure that Gyles’ regiment would have been devastated. What followed threw great shame on the British army. After the British victory came mass looting and disorder, as the redcoats sought revenge for their lost comrades. There was wanton sacking of Badajoz. Many homes were broken into, property stolen and Spanish civilians killed. Scores of soldiers were flogged as punishment and a gallows was erected to hang those found guilty, although none faced the hangman.

Selena sat and reflected on this new information. It gave no clue to the French woman's letter. Gyles had come to find her not long after this battle. Had he resigned in disgust? Why, when he must have been sorely needed, was he allowed to leave the army? He wasn't injured. One thing she was sure about, he had not returned to the wars, his uniform was proof of that. Wasn't it?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Six

“There's been a stranger lurking at the village, Lady Devereux.’ The bailiff stood before Serena, hat in hand. “And he's been seen in Halcrow woods.”

“A poacher?”

He shook his head. “We don't think so. He's not dressed like those around these parts.”

“Thank you for telling me, Grieve.” Why did she think this had something to do with Gyles? “If he's seen on Halcrow land again, please come straight to tell me.”

“Right you are, my lady.”

Selena walked the length of the library, skirts swishing in agitation. She could not spend one more day waiting for Gyles. She would go to London and confront him. She knew he would be angry, but his anger would be easier to bear than being ignored.

She rang the bell.

“I'm going up to London tomorrow, Frobisher,” Selena said. “I have yet to sort out the refurbishment of the townhouse.”

“Should you send a message first, my lady?” Frobisher said. “I fear the house will not be made ready for you.”

“Then I shall have to put up with it,” Selena said, smiling.

“You will be taking your maid, then my lady?”

“Very well, Frobisher,” Selena said, making a small concession to convention. “Send Sarah to me, will you?”

The next day she climbed into the carriage and left home again. On her instructions, they departed Halcrow Hall at first light and made the trip with only one stop to change the horses. It was dusk when they reached the bustling, smoggy London streets.

They traveled past the shadowy Hyde Park gardens. When the coach stopped outside one of the narrow, three-storied townhouses in Park Lane, Selena found herself trembling. She grew annoyed with herself, she needed to be strong and she'd never felt so weak and lily-livered. She tugged at her gloves and straightened her bonnet.

The coachman banged on the door until a maid opened it. Selena and Sarah waited in the hall as the housekeeper and the butler were brought up from their meal below stairs.

“Mrs. Hawkins, my lady.” The tall, long-faced woman curtseyed, but not before Selena caught the look of surprise and curiosity in her face.

She had expected it.

“And this is the butler, Mr. Hawkins.”

Mr. Hawkins was the opposite of his wife, rather short and round, but with an open, friendly face.

“I'm glad to meet you both. We shall discuss housekeeping matters tomorrow. I'll take a light supper in my room. This is Sarah my maid. “Sarah, go and have your dinner. I shall do without you tonight.”

She turned back to the housekeeper. “If you'll show me the way, Mrs. Hawkins?”

Selena proceeded to follow Mrs. Hawkins’ thin, stiff frame across the black and white checker-board of tiles and up the grand staircase. “As you see with the knocker removed and the furniture covered, we were not expecting you until the Season began, my lady,” she said, managing to sound accusatory and deferential at the same time.

“I won't stand upon ceremony, have no fear, Mrs. Hawkins.”

The suite was half the size of the one she occupied in the country, but it was far more elegant and well-dusted. Gyles had apparently seen to it that this house was kept in good order. A young maid knelt to light the fire.

“Hurry yourself, Lucy, Lady Devereux is waiting.”

Lucy jumped to her feet and gave a bob while straightening her cap.

“Put fresh bed-linen on the bed, Lucy, and bring hot water,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “Make sure it's hot, mind.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hawkins.” Lucy hurried from the room.

“There is a water-closet down the end of the hall, my lady.”

“Thank you.” Selena drew off her gloves and hat. “Is Lord Devereux here?” she asked casually.

The housekeeper's eyebrows rose. “Why no, Lady Devereux. We haven't set eyes on his lordship since before the wedding.”

Selena went to look out the window, giving herself time to regain her composure. She could feel Mrs. Hawkins studying her.

Had she come on a wild goose chase?

Across the road in the park, shadows detached themselves from shadows and moved stealthily through the trees.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seven

When Sarah came in the next morning with her hot chocolate, Selena thumped her pillows and sat up in bed. Where had her errant husband gone? Was he lying ill, or worse, dead, somewhere? Or in another woman's bed? As these horrid thoughts filled her head, she made a decision to visit the Horse Guards. It wasn't far from Park Lane, she might even walk there.

“What do you think of London, Sarah?” she asked the maid as she took Selena's gowns out of the trunk and shook them out.

Sarah turned to her, her eyes enormous. “Oh, but it's ever so busy, my lady. And the noise!”

“You'd rather be in the country then?”

“Oh no, my lady. I like it.”

Selena left the house and the scandalized expression of Mr. Hawkins behind, walking off down the street unaccompanied. It began to rain and she unfurled her umbrella. At the corner, a street sweeper held up the traffic, she slipped him a penny and began to cross. Other women walked the streets in pairs wearing patens. The circular rings attached to their shoes raised their feet above the foul-smelling, brown gutters and horse manure on the unpaved, muddy street. One would have difficulty striding out wearing those, she thought. Mincing along would surely get on her nerves.

By the time she'd reached the corner, she'd had quite enough of the trying conditions. She took the hanky from her nose and hailed a passing hackney. When they reached Horse Guards Road, she paid off the driver and went to the entry of Army Headquarters.

A soldier barred her way.

“I am Lady Devereux,” she said. “I wish to see someone in authority.”

“Do you have an appointment, Lady Devereux?”

“No, but it's very important.”

As the soldier stood implacably in her way, a man entering the building stopped beside her. He raised his tall, black hat. “Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing. You are Lady Devereux?”

“Do you know my husband, Earl of Halcrow?”

He nodded. “I may be able to help you. Come this way, if you please.”

He led her along a corridor to his office. Shutting the door, he turned to shake her hand. “George Scovell. Please sit down, Lady Devereux. May I offer you some refreshment?”

“No, thank you. Do you have news of my husband, Mr. Scovell?”

He removed his hat, brushing it and laying it carefully down. He had bushy, grey sideburns. He sat down behind a desk and formed a steeple with his fingers, pausing before speaking. “We are not sure where your husband is at the present time, my lady.”

Selena stared at him. “But you have done? Recently?”

He looked towards the closed door. “I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything more. You should go home and wait. Be patient, he shall return to you presently. All being well.”

“All being well?” Selena rubbed the skin at her temples. Her head had begun to ache.

He frowned. “There are many dangerous people in London, Lady Devereux. I suggest you return to the country, at least until the Season begins. For your sake and your husband's.”

“Might my husband be a spy, Mr. Scovell?”

“Surely you don't expect me to give you any information regarding the army's intelligence services.”

“I'm not a flat and able to be tricked, Mr. Scovell.” She rose.

“I see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you come in your carriage?”

She shook her head.

“I'll get a soldier to escort you home.”

“There's no need, I'll hail a hackney.”

“That's not wise. I must ask you to be careful, Lady Devereux.”

“Why?”

“You may be placing your husband's life at risk.”

Selena stared at him.

“You don't think Napoleon's spies will resort to anything to get the information they seek?”

“But I have nothing of importance to tell them.”

“More than you think. You are asking questions where prying eyes may be lurking.”

“Can you tell me if Gyles is in London?”

He shook his head and tapped his nose.

Frustrated and now more nervous than ever, Selena walked outside to find a soldier waiting beside a carriage. She tried to come to terms with what Mr. Scovell had hinted at. English spies, French spies, all moving about secretly in London? Was Gyles one of them? Or was he behind enemy lines?

She could do nothing but climb into the carriage as the soldier held the door open for her, and allow herself to be driven back to Park Lane. She had been foolish to come here. But Gyles had allowed her to think poorly of him. Why hadn't he just told her a Banbury story that would keep her in the country? The answer to that was suddenly clear. He said he would never lie to her.

Selena spent the rest of the week conferring with Mrs. Hawkins and meeting the rest of the servants. As she suspected, the house was run like the army, all spit and polish. The day before she was to leave for the country, a caller sent up her calling card. Surprised, Selena read the name on it: Lady Amelia Rowntree.

“I'll see Lady Rowntree in the drawing room, thank you, Hawkins.” Selena left the linen she was sorting with the housekeeper and rushed to her room to tidy her hair.

When she came down to the drawing room, she found a pretty lady of a similar age to herself sitting on the settee.

She rose and came forward as Selena entered the room. “Lady Devereux, I've long wished to meet you. Lord Devereux and my husband, Phillip are friends.”

Lady Rowntree was dressed in the first stare of fashion. She wore a crimson wrap trimmed at the collar and cuffs with spotted ermine, and a fur hat like a helmet covering all but her curly, auburn fringe.

“Is your husband an army man?” Selena asked, sitting down beside her as the tea things were brought in.

“No. I believe he and Lord Devereux were at school together,” Lady Rowntree said.

It did not surprise Selena. Gyles had told her nothing of his friends.

“I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me this evening. I have an extra ticket for the ballet at the Theatre Royal,” Amelia said, taking the teacup in her dainty gloved fingers.

“How kind of you to invite us, but my husband is away from home.”

Amelia smiled. “No. Just you and I. My husband is absent too, on business, and I'm in need of company.”

“How did you know I was in London?”

Amelia gave a tinkling laugh, showing her small, pearl-like teeth. “London is really a small town, Lady Devereux. And at this time, with most still away in the country, word gets around very quickly. I've been looking forward to meeting you, since your husband told us of your wedding.”

“When did you and Lord Devereux last meet?”

“Did he not tell you?”

Selena shook her head feeling herself blush.

“Why, it was when he was last in London. He told us you were indisposed and unable to come.”

“Yes, a hateful cold. I should be charmed to come, Lady Rowntree.”

Lady Rowntree laid a gloved hand on her arm. “Amelia, please. Let us dispense with formality. I feel we shall quickly become firm friends.”

Selena smiled warmly. “You must call me Selena.”

Amelia clapped her hands. “Oh, Selena, we shall have such fun.”

But when Selena went to dress that evening, it was not fun she had on her mind. She chose the Pomona green slip, trimmed round the bottom with a border of lace. She had had it made for her honeymoon to please Gyles. He had never seen it. Annie thought it brought out the green of her eyes and complemented her skin. Sarah did her hair up in curls, weaving flowers into the arrangement. From her jewelry box she chose her pearl necklace, eardrops and bracelets. Her jewelry was that of an unwed girl. Most of her mother's had been given to Anne as the eldest child. One day she hoped to have something finer, but for now these would serve their purpose. She nervously donned her silver kid slippers and pulled on white, French kid gloves.

Amelia came in her carriage to collect Selena. She looked every inch a modern lady with town bronze in her white satin gown and cap. They were to be escorted by her cousin, Mr. Rafe Brocklehurst. A short, dark-haired man, he bore no family resemblance at all to his cousin.

“So wise of you not to wear the Halcrow emeralds,” Amelia said, giving her tinkling laugh. “It wouldn't do to have them lost or stolen while your husband is absent. He would never believe you hadn't sold them.”

“The emeralds are being repaired,” Selena said. “A broken clasp.”

Amelia herself wore a fabulous, diamond necklace. It fanned out from her creamy throat like a cobweb on a dewy morning, with one very large diamond nestling in her decolletage.

“Clever wives have paste copies made,” Mr. Brocklehurst said, eyeing Amelia's necklace. “I must say,” he went on, “That I am blessed to have two such lovely ladies on my arm tonight.”

“Lud, Rafe,” Amelia said, tapping her fan on his knee. “In truth, you are sick to death of your cousin's company, which is why I have invited Lady Devereux to entertain us.”

The carriage pulled up in Drury Lane and they made their way into the theatre. Amelia's box gave a fine view of the stage. From around the lofty, richly decorated theatre, people leveled opera glasses in their direction. At interval, they drank a glass of wine as Selena was introduced to many people, their names and faces she could never hope to remember.

She enjoyed the graceful dancers, but as soon as the curtains swept closed, her concern for Gyles returned to tighten her stomach.

In the carriage, Amelia said, “Oh, where shall we go for supper. I know, Lord Pemberton's soiree.” She turned to Selena. “Pem would be delighted for us to come. I have a standard invitation.”

“A capital idea,” Rafe said, before Selena could refuse. Thinking that it would give her the opportunity to search among the ton for information about Gyles’ whereabouts, she agreed.

To the north of the city, the carriage drove through a pair of ornate gates into a walled garden. The mansion was ablaze with braziers, its doors and windows thrown open to enjoy the surprisingly mild night. The gardens were filled with people laughing and chattering. Couples in evening dress strolled about the terrace. As they alighted and came up the steps, a series of loud bangs sounded and the night sky lit up with a splendid array of fireworks.

“How pretty,” Amelia said. “Come, I'll introduce you to Pem.” She took Selena's hand and dragged her through the crowd into a large reception room. A tall man stood by the fireplace one hand on the mantle. He appeared to be delivering an oration to the attentive group of men and women gathered around him.

Amelia rushed forward. “Pem, I'd like you to meet the Earl of Halcrow's bride. Lady Devereux, Lord Pemberton.”

Selena guessed him to be about thirty. He bent over her hand, his brown eyes smiling up at her. “How charming,” he said. “Why haven't we met before?”

“I lived in Bath, Lord Pemberton, before my marriage.”

“A cultivated place, Bath, architecturally speaking,” he said, managing to praise it and denigrate it in the one sentence. The room broke into laughter.

Selena opened her mouth to rush to Bath's defense, but Lord Pemberton didn't pause for breath. “It does breed unusual beauties though. I'll say that for it.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm as everyone stared at her. “If that's a compliment, then thank you, my lord,” she said with a small curtsey. “But if your observation of Bath is anything to go by, I fear it is not.”

He smiled as polite applause spread through the room. “I am seldom known to be clumsy or inarticulate, but feel I've been both.” He took her arm. “Come, I shall get you a glass of wine and we will talk.... “He turned to the assembled gathering following the conversation closely. “...Where there are not so many ears.”

They moved to the door and left the crowd laughing and chattering among themselves. She heard someone say, “Pem's got a beauty in his sights.”

Whisking two glasses of wine from the waiter's tray, Lord Pemberton guided her out onto the terrace.

For once, the deadly London fog had forsaken them and the night was pleasantly clear and cool. Clouds shifted across the moon, creating a play of light and shade over Lord Pemberton's face as he sipped his wine. “And where must Lord Devereux be that he would leave his lovely bride so soon?”

Selena wanted to ask many questions herself, but she remembered Scovell's warning. “He has been called deep into the country, my lord. A sick relative. He will return to London for the Season.”

His face was shadowed when he asked, “His Uncle is ill?”

Selena cursed silently, Gyles only had one relative. “Yes, Uncle Alistair. He resides in Tunbridge Wells.”

“You didn't feel the need to accompany him on his familial duty, Lady Devereux?”

“I have been ill myself,” she said, marveling at her ability to lie so adroitly. “A cold. He didn't feel it wise.”

The playful moon emerged from behind a cloud again. She caught the sharp expression in his brown eyes. “I feel I need to inform you of my credentials,” he said. “My father is Lord Privy Seal, Lady Devereux.”

“Sir Arthur Pemberton, the leader of the House of Lords.” Of course, she'd heard of him.

He looked relieved. “I hope to follow in his shoes one day. I am also an old friend of your husband.”

“When did your friendship begin?”

“We were in the same year up at Cambridge. Gyles went into the army, I into politics. I know what he has been up to, Lady Devereux. I want to help him.”

“In what way?”

He leaned over the balustrade, staring down into the dark garden. “I have come to believe that Gyles has turned his back on England, since his father's estates were taxed almost out of existence and he died as a result of it. Gyles now spies for Napoleon.”

Selena's heart began to pound. “I don't believe it!”

“Gyles’ mother was French. He has many French relatives, you must know that.”

Selena flushed. “I still don't believe it.”

He looked at her coolly. “Can you give me any information you have to disprove my theory?”

“No. I just know Gyles is proud to be English. His years in the army....”

“A man can be both a brave hero and a traitor. It depends on where your loyalties lie.”

Selena shook her head. “It does not fit the man, Lord Pemberton. Not the man I know.”

“How well do you know him?”

She was silent for a moment. “Did you have Amelia bring me here?”

“I need you to help me, help him, Selena. Are you brave enough?”

“To do what?”

“If you place a piece in The London Times newspaper, Gyles will emerge from hiding and a small, loyal band of his friends will be able to help him.”

“Why should I do such a thing?”

“You must include some personal detail that only the two of you know,” he continued as if she hadn't spoken. “Please think on it, Lady Devereux. I'll send a servant for your answer tomorrow. No one need know any of this.”

“I'd like to retire now, Lord Pemberton.” She desperately needed to think.

On the way home in the carriage, Amelia and Rafe tried on several occasions to prod Selena about her conversation with Pem, but she fobbed them off. She suspected she had been manipulated and that Amelia was not nor ever would be a true friend.

“Thank you for a very enjoyable evening,” Selena said, when the carriage stopped in Park Lane.

Amelia enveloped her in a perfumed hug. “Did Pem say something to upset you? It would be most unlike him.”

“No, of course not. I'm tired, that's all.”

“Shall we take tea on Friday?”

“Thank you, but I don't know if I'll still be in London. I'll send a note.”

* * * *

The next morning, Selena took the carriage back to Army Headquarters and asked the soldier to inform Mr. Scovell she wished to see him.

When she sat in his room again, she told him what had transpired the night before. She had deliberated about this course of action for most of the night. If Gyles was a French spy, she might make things worse for him, so she deliberately withheld Lord Pemberton's name.

“Miles Pemberton, eh?” Scovell said.

When she gasped, he said, “I thought so.”

“Is he a friend of Gyles’ or not, Mr. Scovell. You must tell me.”

He thought for a moment. “Do what they say, Lady Devereux. Put the article in the newspaper. When Gyles appears there will be more than one group awaiting him.”

Perplexed, Selena looked the man in the eye. “And if Gyles is in some kind of trouble I will have presented him to you on a platter.”

He gazed back at her steadily. “You have my word as a gentleman that he isn't.”

Selena thought for a moment. “Then why is Gyles in hiding?”

“My contemporaries say that the Duke of Wellington treats his men's lives as “'no more than mice in an air pump.'”

“You're very well trained in saying absolutely nothing of relevance, Mr. Scovell.”

He smiled and tilted his head to one side. “We need our man to come home and can find no way to contact him. If you don't do this, with us onside, Lady Devereux, someone else might attempt it. And they may not have your husband's safety at heart.”

Selena rubbed her forehead. “I find I have to trust you, Mr. Scovell. I'll place the piece in The London Times, but I want your assurance that Gyles will not be harmed by it.”

“It may gather many spies in its net, Lady Devereux, which is surely great for England.”

“That's not a very reassuring answer.”

He shrugged. “This is not a very reassuring business we're in.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eight

Selena worked late into the night by candlelight, as a pile of rejected, screwed-up papers formed on the floor. She dipped the pen into the inkwell again. She knew so little of Gyles, what could she say to him that only he and she knew? She blushed as his words came back to her. I'd like to unwrap you like a present.... Could she be so bold? It was undoubtedly the one thing he knew would be from her.

She wrote the simple line: Dear G, your present is here in London and awaits you. You know where to find it.

Selena travelled alone to The London Times editorial office and filled in the form herself. It would appear in the Friday edition.

On Thursday, she returned to George Scovell and told him what she had done. She was greatly relieved that he did not ask her what it meant.

By Friday morning, she could think of nothing but those words appearing in the newspaper. She sent a servant for a copy and opened it with shaking hands. There in black and white were her words. They made her cheeks flame. What would Gyles make of it? She almost wished he was not in London and would never see it.

She knew she must act as if everything was normal, so she met Amelia for afternoon tea at Mivart's Hotel in Brooke Street. She felt Amelia watched her although she said nothing about Lord Pemberton. She did ask when Selena expected Gyles to come home. Selena assured her it would be soon and asked about her husband's plans. The question seemed to throw her into disarray. Amelia was not her ebullient self and they parted with stiff formality.

When Selena returned to Park Lane, she looked about the street for signs that the house was watched, but could see no one unusual. Surely, it was not the flower seller, or the street sweeper, the old peddler on the corner, or the nanny watching her charges in the park. Amelia's forced chatter had been enervating, and now she felt quite exhausted with worry. She ate very little dinner and retired early to bed. She tossed and turned for hours before sleep claimed her.

Something woke her. The curtains were not quite drawn across the window and a full, yellow moon shone through. She saw a shadow move across the room. She opened her mouth to cry out, but before she could utter a word, a hand clamped down and silenced her.

“Don't make a sound,” a man's voice whispered. She felt his body settle on the bed beside her.

Her heart fluttered in her chest like a dying bird. She drew air in through her nostrils as though it was to be her last breath. And maybe it was.

She was considering biting down hard on the fingers, when she detected the scent of musk. Gyles’ scent.

“You wished to see me, my lady?”

Selena shook her head. She tried to pull his hand from her mouth.

“You promise to be silent?”

She nodded.

“Close the curtain, Gyles. I'll light a candle.”

“Not wise, Selena. The house may be watched.”

“I know, I....”

“You set me up?”

“No. It's with the help of Mr. Scovell that I've done this.”

“The Spymaster?”

“Is he? He urgently wants to see you.”

“Does he indeed?” His voice was filled with irony.

His breath fanned her hair. “Have you missed me, Selena?”

“Yes.”

“Despite all I've done to you?”

“I believe you had good reason.”

“I've given you little reason to trust me.”

“No, you haven't.”

He laughed a low, sexy laugh that thrilled her to the core. “You never cease to amaze me. I thought when I chose you, you would make the perfect wife because you were even-tempered and intelligent. You've been all that my darling, but far more.”

His fingers stroked her cheek. “What's this, you're crying?”

Had she been a pawn in his fate? “Is Lord Pemberton a loyal friend, Gyles?”

“Pem? I believe so.”

“He and other friends of yours say they want to help you.”

“I find that hard to believe, Selena. Spying isn't seen as an honorable profession. My reputation as an officer and a gentleman has suffered.”

“Perhaps you should go,” she said urgently. “They know about the piece in the paper. They will know you are here.”

“I'll be gone before daybreak.”

“I want to know what this is all about.”

“And I shall tell you. I promise, but you smell so sweet, Selena, and your body is so warm and soft. Shall I unwrap my present first, before it drives me mad with desire?”

She caught her breath. “Yes, Gyles, yes.”

“Damn. I want to look at you. You are so lovely.”

“I am?”

“A real woman. Not a milk and water miss.”

She looked up into his face. It was too dark to make out his expression. “Gyles....”

“Hush. No more questions.”

He brought his mouth down on hers, silencing her. She slid her arms around him, feeling his strong back through his coat.

He stroked her body through her nightrail, moving down to grasp its hem. He pulled it up slowly, his fingers trailing over her skin, exploring what he could not see like a blind man. His hand moved between her legs and she gasped as his fingers began to stroke her, finding the spot that sent waves of desire through her. He reached up and ripped apart the front of her nightrail, exposing her breasts, his mouth closing over a nipple, teasing it with his tongue.

“Oh!” Selena could hardly breathe as pleasure threaded through her.

He sat up and began to undress.

She waited, longing for him to return to her.

“I can't stay and do this properly, Selena. Forgive me.” He laughed. “I told you, you were getting a poor bargain with me.”

When he lay beside her again, she began to explore him, wanting to know all of him. She took his manhood in her hands, silky and hard, like nothing she'd ever known. He pushed her back and kissed her again and she thrilled at the raw passion in his voice as he groaned. “There's so much I want us to share, darling Selena. But it will have to wait.”

His tongue trailed down to touch that place at the apex of her thighs and she blushed as her body responded, radiating heat through her belly.

Parting her legs, he lay on top of her. He entered her slowly, his mouth returning to hers as he began to move inside her, slowly, at first. She felt a flash of pain that was gone in a moment. An exquisite longing filled her as he moved faster, driving them both towards some goal-she knew not what. Her hands tangled in his silky hair. Their breaths mingled, coming in bursts. Suddenly, a surge of pleasure enveloped her, as if her belly was full of sunshine and she cried out.

Gyles soon joined her, groaning. “I hope no one heard that,” he said. “They will be wondering what you are up to, my lady.”

She laughed softly and put her hand to his cheek. “They will think I'm dreaming.” She wondered for a moment if she was.

He pulled up the covers as the night air began to chill their naked bodies. “I can't stay long, but I'll tell you what I can before I leave.”

She nestled in the crook of his arm as he began to speak. “After the Battle of Badajoz, I had no stomach for the army anymore. I lost several of my closest comrades in that battle. If I died before I had an heir, the Halcrow lineage would die with me. The Hall would crumble into a ruin. I felt I was betraying my father's memory. He didn't approve of me joining the Hussars, thought it beneath me. It was after an argument that I did it, just to spite him. No. Not just that, I must confess, I harbored misplaced boyish dreams of heroism.”

“Which you have brought about,” Selena whispered.

“There's a Latin saying, Horace, I think it is, which describes my predicament: Delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi. Kings make mistakes, and the Greeks are punished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If Wellington makes a miscalculation, it is his men who must carry the consequences. History will judge me, Selena, for I have no stomach for it.”

He moved his hand over her body cupping a breast and thumbing a nipple, rekindling a fire within her. She forced herself to concentrate on his words.

“But I digress. When I was forced by my circumstances, to marry an heiress, I believed myself too cynical for love. You have changed that. You made me want to be worthy of you, and I was bitter when I failed at the first hurdle. Wellington's men grabbed me and whisked me off to Spain without a by-your-leave. I had urgent work to do.”

“If only you could have come and told me, said goodbye....”

“I gave word to return you safely to Bath. I couldn't reveal details of my mission. Would it have helped if I'd lied to you? You would not have let me go without an explanation. The Duke of Wellington promised me I could return to important family matters and resign my Commission, after I'd worked as a double spy. I returned to France-I had been there before, gathering intelligence information. Wellington chose me because my mother was French. I spoke the language fluently and have relatives in France.”

“Can you tell me about your mission now?” Selena asked.

“I had worked with Lieutenant-Colonel Colquhoun Grant as an exploring officer, gathering information near the Spanish-Portuguese border. I was not with him when he was captured by the French. They hoped to milk Grant of information about Wellington, but they got nothing from him. While the French held him captive, Wellington received word that Marshall Marmont, Napoleon's trusted Commander, was willing to make an exchange of prisoners. Wellington didn't believe it because the letter was written en clair.”

“What does that mean?”

“In plain script rather than a cipher. Wellington wished me to aid Grant's escape, help get him to Paris where he could continue to act as a spy, and this I did. Once there, Grant passed himself off as American officer to get closer to Napoleon. In France, spies are dealt with by the police. A man who worked with me, Pierre Delaunay, was thrown into jail. I dressed as a French officer and used my false papers to get him out. Unfortunately, on my way out of the country, I was recognized and arrested. They knocked me around a bit, before I saw a chance to escape and took it. You saw the sorry state I was in when I returned.”

Selena hugged him to her. “You must go soon,” she urged him, hating to say it.

He kissed her. “Damn, I want to make love to you again.”

“We shall have the rest of our lives for that,” she said, as he gathered her up in his arms.

“Your right,” he said with regret. “And I haven't told you the rest. When I came home and saw how hard you'd worked, how strong and resourceful and brave you'd been, I felt deeply ashamed. I was disappointed that I hadn't contributed anything to Halcrow's restoration. In the beginning, Selena, I have to admit, I desired you as I did many lovely women. But after I came to know you, my feelings deepened. I felt too unworthy to tell you. After you left me to go to your sister in Bath, I realized that I loved you and missed you terribly. I planned to make it all right when you returned. Then I received a letter from a true friend and colleague, warning me that Wellington had not supported me. He'd hung me out to dry. I was known as one of Napoleon's spies and there were many after my head. Even Halcrow Hall had become a dangerous place, perhaps for you too. I came to London to straighten things out. But as a spy can never confirm or deny their position, George Scovell advised me to go into hiding until Wellington put things to rights. Scovell and I arranged to liaison through another man, but that man was murdered.”

“I was wondering what the devil to do. And then I got your message. It made me laugh, Selena. For the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful for the future.”

“When did you have time to socialize with Lady Rowntree?” Selena asked, hating the jealous tone of her voice.

“I've never met her. I knew a Phillip Rowntree at school.”

“What about her cousin, Rafe Brocklehurst?”

“He's a stranger to me, Selena. Stay away from them both.”

“They are in thick with Lord Pemberton. And he is watching for you.”

“I can't believe that Pem would wish ill of me,” he said thoughtfully, “but patriotism can turn friends into enemies.” Gyles went to the window and peeked from behind the curtain. “A full moon is not great for any of us. I can see movement down there. I'll go over the roof tops. Don't worry, it's how I came.”

He came to kiss her. His mouth lingered against hers.

“When will I see you again?” she asked breathlessly after he drew away.

“Go back to Halcrow, Selena. Wait for me there. I'll come as soon as I can.”

Before Selena could say goodbye, Gyles had climbed out the window and was gone. She rushed to the window and peered down into the street as a shout rose up. The sound of a pistol shot ricocheted through the air. Shivering with cold and fear, she watched someone running away down the street. It was too dark to make out if it was Gyles. When she heard the pounding footfall of many men, she held her clenched fists to her mouth.

Then it was quiet.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nine

Spring had come to Halcrow Hall. The trees in the park were in leaf and the air filled with the sweet sound of birds nesting. A sweep of brilliant green grass dotted with daffodils, stretched to the house bordered by the stately, oaks. The breeze carried the scents of lilacs, roses and wisteria through the window of the carriage.

As the carriage grew closer, Selena saw the miracle the changes had wrought to the topiary and the formal gardens. And the old house, its ivy-covered walls trimmed as carefully as the sideburns of a dandy; its polished windows gleaming in the sunlight.

Frobisher and Joseph waited to greet her.

Against Gyles’ wishes she had waited in London for word for another two weeks, but heard nothing. She hadn't dared go to Scovell, afraid of what he might tell her. She was grateful at least that she had not seen Amelia or Rafe again.

It all looked so idyllic, but it meant nothing without Gyles. She smiled at Joseph, and greeted Frobisher. She must prepare herself for the loneliness and uncertainty awaiting her.

* * * *

Selena had been at the house another ten days when she heard a horse and rider gallop towards the house. She was in the rose garden. Throwing down her basket full of blooms, she ran towards the carriageway, losing her bonnet along the way.

Gyles jumped down from his horse and threw the reins to Joseph.

"Gyles," she yelled, her voice caught by the breeze and lost among the birdsong.

He turned his head and saw her as she rushed towards him with her skirts gathered up around her knees.

Running to meet her, he swept her up, swinging her around.

She gazed up into his face, searching for signs of illness or distress. “Oh, Gyles, I wondered if I would ever see you again.”

He put her down and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Where is your hat?”

She laughed, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Oh, Lord, it's so good to see you,” he said into her ear. “Come to our bedchamber. Or should we go into the garden?”

“That would be scandalous, my lord. We now have a fleet of gardeners.”

“I don't care.”

They walked arm in arm to the house where Frobisher waited, his lined face a wreath of smiles.

Standing in Selena's bedchamber, Gyles said, “This was my mother's room.”

“Yes, I know. Do you mind?”

He laughed. “I think we'll move into the green suite in the west wing. It has a fine view of the lake.”

“I'll just go and give the orders to prepare it,” she said.

He caught her by the waist. “I don't mind that much.”

He kissed her lightly, the kiss quickly turning to a passionate embrace.

They broke apart at a knock on the door.

“Who the devil is that?” Gyles said, frowning. He turned away to the window and adjusted his clothing.

“Come in,” Selena called.

It was Alice. “My lady, Cook was wondering what his lordship wished to eat.” She shuffled her feet. “And, if you and his lordship were planning to take your luncheon in the library as usual.”

“We'll have the game pie and the cold mutton, thank you Alice, and some salad, I think. In the dining room.”

As the door closed, Gyles laughed. “I see life at Halcrow is to be run much like the army.”

“On it's stomach?” She put her arms around him. “Let's go down. I want you to tell me everything. I'll have the green suite made ready.”

He lifted her chin. “We have a date after luncheon, then, my lady.” He kissed her nose.

It was the first time she had eaten in the dining room. She'd found it too intimidating on her own. The table was long enough for a dozen people to sleep end to end, and the intricately-carved fireplace, breathtaking in both detail and scale. More of the tapestries depicting hunts and battles decorated the walls along with some fine old paintings and two splendid chandeliers hung overhead.

The servants had laid a place at each end of the table. “I shall not hear you from there, my lord,” she said, moving the silverware down beside him. “In future, I think we'll eat in the library, unless we have guests.

“Now. Tell me all,” she said.

Gyles gazed at her. “Selena. I cannot tell you all.”

“Very well,” she said, casting her eyes down.

“There are some things about my work that must remain secret.”

She examined her fork. “I must get the silver cleaned.”

“You think you'll wheedle it all out of me in the throes of passion, don't you?” he said raising an eyebrow.

A smile played at the corner of her mouth.

He laughed and shook his head. “We shall see who's strongest then, shall we? I've been tortured by experts.”

“My poor love,” she said reaching to take his hand in hers.

Gyles groaned. “And I know who will win.”

Their conversation paused as the servants entered with the covered dishes. Frobisher hovered with the wine.

“Frobisher?” Gyles said.

“Yes my lord?”

“Go away. We shall call you when we need you.”

“Very well, my lord.”

“Gyles,” Selena said as the door closed. “I think you hurt his feelings. He has been so looking forward to you coming home.”

“I'll make it up to him tomorrow.” He drew a small draw-string bag from his pocket. “I brought these from London. I want to see you in them.”

Selena took the bag from him and opened it. She drew out a sparkling emerald necklace wreathed in diamonds and matching earrings. “Gyles! They are breathtaking. What a way to carry them.”

“It was safer.”

“I must have a gown made to compliment them.”

“Yes,” he said giving her that sleepy, sexy stare. “But first, I look forward to seeing them on you naked.”

“My lord,” Selena put her hand to her hot face. “What if the servants hear such talk?”

“They'll have to grow used to it.”

The door opened and a dish of apple pie and a jug of cream were carried in.

Gyles waited until the servant had gone. “I wanted to tell you that this sorry business I've dragged you into, is over.”

“For good?” Selena could hardly believe it.

He nodded. “Wellington has finally come to appreciate the value of the intelligence dispatches we provided him. He has made it as clear as he can to those that are interested that I was working solely for the British. When the war is over, I expect my efforts to be acknowledged fully.”

“As it should be, for you are a hero,” Selena said passionately. “What about Lord Pemberton, and Lady Rowntree?”

“Pem remains a staunch friend, in fact he plans to come here to see you and apologize for being taken in by those two. Lady Amelia Rowntree and her ‘cousin,’ Rafe were French spies. They inveigled themselves into London society. Amelia claimed to be married to Lord Phillip Rowntree, and when news arrived that he had been found dead with a bullet through his head near his home in Yorkshire, she left London in a hurry. Rafe was caught on the night I came to see you. He was killed trying to escape.”

Selena gasped. “Did they kill Lord Rowntree?”

“I believe they did.” Gyles reached across and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “You were mixing with very dangerous people, my love.”

Selena shivered. “I suspected there was something false about them, but not murderers.”

Gyles kissed her fingers. “Come, we have things to discuss upstairs. And I have another present for you.”

They walked to the stairs with his arm around her waist. In the Great Hall, Frobisher bowed. “My lord, the green suite has been made ready.”

They mounted the stairs laughing together. Serena felt Gyles’ strong arm around her waist and remembered their brief lovemaking in London. She had relived every detail over the past few weeks. When she met his knowing look heat spread through her body.

The green suite was one she had not had time to study. It was exceptionally grand in a more solid and masculine style. “This was my father's room,” Gyles explained as he shut the door.

On a rosewood table stood a bottle of wine and two glasses. Romantic Sarah had placed bowls of lilac about to perfume the air.

Gyles went to his portmanteau and opened it drawing out a parcel. He gave it to Selena.

“But what is this?”

She opened it, drawing out an emerald green, silk gown trimmed with old lace. It featured a low neckline and a more fitted bodice than the Grecian style popular in England. “Oh, it's truly lovely, Gyles,” she said.

He came to her and ran a finger over her cheek. “Your skin is like a ripe peach, my love; you must wear the colors that do it justice. The gown was made by a French modiste and will suit you perfectly.”

“Shall I try it on?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes glowing with an urgent passion. “Later. The emeralds first.”

She disrobed before him. He had never seen her thus. The last time was under the cover of darkness. Yet she didn't feel at all embarrassed as she stood naked before him.

He tangled his fingers in her long hair and raised it his lips. “You are beautiful, Selena,” he said softly. He ran his hand over the curve of her hip to her waist, and up to cup a breast with its pale brown nipple. “Just beautiful.” He kissed her throat, as she stroked his dark head. She sensed his urgency matching her own, but he calmly placed the emeralds around her neck, his fingers making her tremble as they did up the clasp. He turned her to him and secured the earrings. “In all those weeks I could not be with you, I dreamed of this,” he said, his voice deepening with emotion.

His gaze never left her as he threw off his clothes. She studied his strong, beautiful body, finding herself trembling. The broad shoulders and narrow hips, the proof of his desire for her made her gasp. He came swiftly to her and kissed her deeply. He lay against her on the bed and she felt his skin, smooth against hers. His hands roamed her body and, as some primeval need made her grip his haunches and pull him hard against her, he entered her. Their breaths mingled as he thrust deeper inside her, slowly at first, and then as passion rose to fever-pitch within her, Selena found herself lifting her hips to meet him.

“Wait, my love,” he cautioned, smiling. “Don't let's rush this. We have all the time in the world to enjoy one another.”

“A lifetime.” She gasped as pleasure threaded through her belly warming her like a roaring fire on a snowy day.

When their movement stilled, Gyles kissed her and held her against him.

He left the bed and walked naked to pour two glasses of wine. She admired his strong back and thighs, the perfect symmetry of his body.

He came back to her and handed her a glass. He raised his to touch hers with a clink. “To us, my love, and the future of Halcrow and its family tree, which we shall do our very best to increase.”

THE END

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