Coming Home (7 page)

Ten minutes later, after a nasty interlude involving Davidson casting up his accounts all over his boots and then descending into maudlin self-recriminations, Colly returned to their suite of rooms to find Juliana pacing to and fro.

‘What happened?' she demanded, the instant he opened the door.

He struggled out of his greatcoat and checked it for stains before
throwing it on a settle. Then he glanced down at his boots. ‘He was sick. Everywhere.'

She wrinkled her nose. ‘He must be very drunk.'

‘Yes. Using up the last of his freedom, I suspect. He seems to have an aunt and uncle who he is reluctant to return home to.'

‘Never mind that.' She prowled between the settle and the window like a restless cat. ‘What did he say about us?'

‘Nothing. He's not capable of stringing two thoughts together.'

She sat down on the settle. ‘Thank goodness.'

‘Yes. But I must ensure his continuing silence. He's not a bad youth, so I'll appeal to his sense of obligation.'

‘Obligation?'

‘Well, he owes us both a considerable debt. Me for saving him from the French, and you for nursing him back to health.'

‘Oh … that.'

Obviously saving lives was a minor hiccup in Miss Colebrook's life. She seemed to regard their actions as natural, and under the circumstances, of course they were. But he couldn't envisage any delicately bred Englishwoman taking those things in her stride. God, she was magnificent.

He averted his eyes from Juliana's face lest she detected his ridiculous besottedness. He smoothed down his jacket sleeves, then checked his boots once more.

She sniffed. ‘I smell nothing out of the ordinary.'

He grinned. ‘Thank goodness. My new boots won't be ready until tomorrow.'

She returned his smile, then hers faded. ‘I shall have to interview my applicant soon,' she apologized. ‘I am unsure how to explain your presence, however. Are we to be married, or related in some way?'

For a moment he had forgotten. A cold bucketful of water could not have been more punishing. ‘Uh … could I be a friend of your family's?'

She looked doubtful. ‘It is still not quite the thing for us to travel together, is it?'

‘You are quite right.' He grabbed his coat again. ‘I have been too long out of England. I shall go to the stables and admire the horses.'

Juliana smiled. ‘I would feel guilty if I didn't know how much you enjoy hobnobbing with grooms and horses. Just the same, it is unkind to make you leave, but I don't know what else to do.'

Colly could see she was unnerved by Davidson's insinuations. Up till now it had been an adventure for both of them. It wasn't that they had ignored the possible ramifications of their behaviour, but they had been far away from England and it hadn't mattered so much. But now …

He took her hands in his. ‘Juliana, do not fret. We shall get through this. I will take care of everything. I am happy to do so.'

Her hands were not soft. They felt work-worn with rough patches here and there. He glanced down. These were not the hands of a gently bred lady. They were honest hands. They had done much work. He traced an upraised scar on her thumb with his own.

He would buy her a present or two – some rosewater and glycerine for her hands and a new parasol. If anyone deserved gifts it was the work-worn young woman he had come to love.

He exhaled sharply. Yes. He could admit it to himself. What did it matter since he'd be the only one to know? He was in for a heap of heartache, but trying to stop himself from falling in love with Juliana Colebrook was as useless as King Canute trying to hold back the tide.

He stood, gazing down into her face. How could he not love her? The memory of her earnest, tender care during his recovery still lingered. Once, as his company had marched through the arid countryside in Spain, he had smelled the fragrance of lemon grass trampled underfoot. Vividly he had been reminded of the citrus tang that wafted from her hospital clothes as she bustled past. And he'd felt homesick, a yearning for home and hearth and a woman with Juliana's face waiting for him.

On nights of small moons he had often stared up at the sky, savouring the memory of those evening visits when they had discussed all manner of things – her cousins, his little sister Felicia, everything except the war. Each day he had waited for evening to come so he might bask in the muted feminine cadences of her voice.

And oh
how
he had relished these past two weeks, listening to the intriguing accent and watching that imperfect little smile, the alabaster skin and the chocolate eyes.

Yes, he loved her all right. And he would do nothing to harm her, such as proposing marriage to her. She did not seem as averse to him as he would have expected, but he would not have her share his shame.

Suddenly he realized he had been holding her hands for far too long and hastily released them. He coughed to hide his embarrassment. ‘Um … on my return I will listen at the door before I come in.' He bowed and left – before he said anything he shouldn't.

T
ONIGHT WAS THEIR last evening together. Tomorrow they would travel to Trewbridge and then the carriage would take Juliana on to Melksham. They sat in the long summer twilight, watching the comings and goings of people outside the Saracen's Head.

Juliana leaned forward in her chair and Colly followed her gaze. A swarthy well-built fellow melded into the crowd of people on the pavement and Juliana sat back again.

‘Did you talk to Lieutenant Davidson?' she asked.

‘Yes. I think I managed to convince him that his suspicions were unfounded. I reminded him of the debt he owes us.'

Juliana pulled a face. ‘He was a terrible patient.'

Colly laughed. ‘That does not surprise me.'

Juliana laughed too and his heart turned over. She looked different. Happy. During the past few days she had blossomed. Her lovely skin had regained its soft bloom and the long, long hair he yearned to drape over his body was shining with health. He would like to think it was because he had taken away her responsibilities for a short while. It was more likely that she was happy to be in England and near to her relatives at long last.

‘I wonder what tomorrow will bring,' he murmured.

‘Will you visit your parents before you begin work?' Juliana asked.

‘No.' He shifted in his chair, hoping she wouldn't question him further.

‘Will you tell me what happened?' she asked timidly. ‘I – I'd really like to know.'

Ah, hell. In Porto he'd burned to tell her the truth so she could see he was not as black as he was painted, and that she would be safe travelling with him. But now … what did it matter?

Revealing his past to the Trewbridge family and telling the woman he loved his mean, pathetic tale were two different matters. Especially since he'd already demonstrated his appalling lack of self-control to
Juliana only three nights ago. Fortunately she seemed to bear him no ill-will. But he hated to have her know how stupid he'd been over Amelia Blevin, how very naïve. Lord, he'd been so
young
.

‘Tell me,' she coaxed.

He shrugged as if it were of no import and tried not to slouch down in his chair.

‘Amelia and her father came one day to speak to my father. After a few minutes my father called me into his study. I thought it was to haul me over the coals about some imagined problem with the stud farm as usual.' Colly pursed up his mouth. ‘It was a never-ending battle between us. My brother managed the home farms; I managed the stud. But Father interfered so much it was difficult for either of us to get anything done.' He gazed off into the distance, long-submerged frustration roiling in his blood.

‘Fathers!' Juliana said.

He grimaced. ‘Well, yours and mine, anyway. John's is a good man.'

With a bit of luck she'd forget about his story and become sidetracked.

But no. ‘What did your father say?'

‘He yelled at me that I must marry Amelia at once. I didn't know what the devil he was talking about. So Sir Archie, all red and angry, explained that Amelia admitted I was the father of her unborn child. I was flabbergasted. I mean, we'd all been friends forever. But …' His voice died away. He tried to bury that awful niggling guilt which had whispered to him sometimes:
You knew Amelia Blevin's reputation. Don't deny it. Didn't you think once or twice of joining the queue to try your luck
?

‘Do you think her father believed her?' Juliana asked.

‘I don't know,' Colly said slowly. ‘Things were in such a tumult that I never got a chance to find out anything.'

‘Was she a truthful girl?' Juliana asked, wrinkling her brow.

Colly couldn't help grinning. Truthful and sedate Amelia was not. ‘Definitely not. She was a handful. I don't think her parents knew what to do with her.'

‘Well, I know it's not my business, but it sounds odd to me. You are friends forever, and yet suddenly one day you take it into your head to – no. It sounds as though this Sir Archie grabbed an opportunity to marry her off, but you didn't fall in with their scheme.' She shook her head.

Colly slowly exhaled. That was similar to what his grandmother had said. Why hadn't he challenged Amelia and her father? And his own
father, come to think of it. Tripped up by his stupid pride, had he lost the opportunity to find out the truth?

‘Perhaps she had a lover she covered up for,' Juliana said cynically.

‘Uh … I don't know. I was thrown out of the house and had no time to talk to anyone, not even to say goodbye. I felt utterly betrayed. At the time I did not care
why
she had said those things.'

No. On that awful day he'd been so shattered he couldn't think clearly. Later, he'd begun to wonder what was behind the whole fracas, and by then it had been too late. He was an idiot not to have protested at the time, but truly, he could not have defied his father in front of Sir Archie Blevin. Even though there was something unusual in his father's tone – something he should have investigated – at the time he'd been rocked to the depths of his soul when he'd realized that if his own father didn't believe him, then nobody else would either. So he'd left as he had been ordered to do, and had never returned.

‘My father forbade them all to talk to me. My little sister tried. She slipped into my room that day and gave me a locket to remember her by. I lost it when I was injured at Douro,' he explained. ‘That was why I was making such a fuss when we met. I wanted to go back and look for it.'

Juliana nodded. ‘I remember. You kept saying, “Who took it?” I thought you were delirious.'

He smiled sadly. ‘I hope one day I'll see Felicia again.' Then he grinned. ‘But my father could not silence my grandmother. She's an indomitable old lady and she has no need of family money. She purchased my commission for me and I was sent to Ireland for training. At first she wrote to me, but I haven't heard from her for many months. I hope my father did not prevail after all.' He sobered. ‘Or else she … might have died.' Please God, no.

Juliana eyed him for a moment then offered, ‘It's possible that this Amelia was in a corner and used you to get out of it. You felt so betrayed by this Miss – what was it again?'

‘Blevin.'

‘… Blevin and your father that you decided to show them you could live without them. You joined the army and eschewed all female company.'

‘Not all,' Colly put in, grinning in spite of himself.

‘Well, all so-called
respectable
women then,' Juliana replied, her lips quirking.

Colly had no doubt that she'd nursed the ‘not-so-respectable' types.
It was a relief to be able to talk to a woman who did not take things wrongly, but he would have to watch his step in future.

Then she voiced his main concern. ‘Sir, what will you tell your employers?'

Colly sobered. ‘Everything. But they can't have heard any adverse rumours about me, or they wouldn't have offered me the stewardship. You've met my future employer. John came to visit me in hospital. He speaks several languages and was one of Wellington's exploring officers. '

She thought for a moment. ‘I cannot remember him. I met so many men every week …' She shrugged.

‘Sounds like a debutante's dream,' he commented.

‘What does?'

‘The fact that you met so many men each week.'

She smiled, then grimaced. ‘I doubt that an English debutante would be interested in the unhappy men I nursed. And that is one thing that worries me.'

He raised his eyebrows in a question.

‘What will my relatives think of me? Through having to work for my living I have become very independent. I am probably not what they expect.' She sighed. ‘I might be very unpopular until I learn to behave correctly.'

He frowned. ‘You know my opinion,' he said. ‘Relatives are the very devil. Keep away from them. They will disappoint you.'

‘For heaven's sake, Brigade-Major! Just because you've had an unfortunate time with your relatives does not mean that mine are cut from the same cloth.'

Colly's heart sank. She was setting great store by a couple of letters written a long time ago. No doubt the hope of reaching England to see her relatives had held her together during the hard times. He could understand a dream like that. But he would hate to see all her anticipatory sparkle and family loyalty quenched by a bunch of disapproving, mealy-mouthed relations.

‘They should be honoured to have you come and live with them, Juliana. You are an accomplished and beautiful young woman.'

There was a short silence. Colly felt the heat spreading from his neck up to his face. That would teach him to blurt out what he was thinking. Would he never learn to keep his tongue between his teeth?

‘Th-thank you.' She looked shocked, almost disbelieving.

‘I meant what I said,' he growled. He felt her trying to examine his averted face, so he said hastily, ‘I believe your new maid will be waiting
for you.' He hadn't dared say, ‘waiting to prepare you for bed,' because beds were a topic that he and Juliana avoided.

He stood up. ‘Good evening, Juliana.' And he strode off to his bedchamber.