The Officer and the Proper Lady (2 page)

‘I confess I fight, gamble, drink and amuse myself with some dedication,' Hal told her with a shrug, feeling he might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb so far as his reputation with Miss Tresilian was concerned. He did not have to mention loose women in his list of sins: the slight lift of one eyebrow showed that she could add those herself.

A shadow passed over her face. ‘Gamble? What on, Major?'

‘Anything, everything. Cards, dice, horses, what colour gown Miss Tresilian will wear for her next appearance in the Parc.'

‘Do you often win, Major?'

‘Almost inevitably.' She raised the brow again. ‘I play cards well, but I have the knack of calculating odds even better. I enjoy gambling, not throwing money away. You disapprove of gambling, Miss Tresilian?'

‘My mother and I are in Brussels on what is called the
economical plan,
' she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the term. ‘In other words, we are compelled to live abroad where it is cheap in order to husband our re sources. Many of the British community are here for the same reason, and
for most of them, it is because the head of the house hold has gambled away a fortune.'

‘Your father is not with you?'

‘Papa died just before Phillip was born.' Miss Tresilian looked round, sighting her brother standing hope fully in front of the refreshment stand. His nankeens, Hal saw with amusement, were now an absolute disgrace. ‘Thank you, Major Carlow, for rescuing me and for your escort. I am sure you must be wanting to rejoin your friends now.' Whatever her reasons for staring at him so fixedly before, they were evidently nothing to do with flirtation. She was now intent on politely disengaging herself.

‘Not at all. At least, not until I have put a stop to any tittle-tattle that you being seen walking with me might arouse.' Hal scanned the array of elegant ladies gathered in little parties around the pavilion. ‘What we need is a matron of influence and reputation. Ah yes, just the person.' He tucked Julia's hand under his arm and led her across the gravel to a lady sitting alone, delicately spooning vanilla ice from a glass. Behind her, in the shadows of one of the trees, stood her maid.

‘Lady Geraldine. How very lovely you look today.'

‘Major Carlow, a delightful surprise to see you doing something as tame as walking in the Parc, and at such an early hour! Perhaps you never got to sleep last night.' Her ladyship smiled wickedly from under the brim of her hat as Hal bowed, returning a smile every bit as wicked.

‘May I introduce Miss Tresilian, ma'am? Miss Tresilian, Lady Geraldine Masters. I have just rescued Miss Tresilian from a rather slimy dragon. I have done my utmost not to flirt with her, but she will now have been observed by the censorious walking with me for quite ten minutes.'

‘And requires some respectable cha per on age? Indeed. Do sit by me, Miss Tresilian. My first duty is to warn you
against associating with bloods of Major Carlow's ilk. However, I must congratulate you upon escaping from a dragon's clutches. Major, take yourself off so I may restore Miss Tresilian's reputation as required.'

‘Ma'am.' Hal bowed, repressing a smile at the expression of barely concealed alarm on Miss Tresilian's face. Lady Geraldine, daughter of the Duke of Wilming ton and wife of the indecently wealthy Mr John Masters, was one of the leading Ladies of the Park, as the reigning English set in Brussels Society were known. She was a handsome woman in her late thirties, kind, out spoken and apt to be amused by handsome young men of address of whom she had a number in her train. Her devotion to her husband was, however, in no doubt. He should know, he had tested it personally. ‘I leave her in safe hands. Good day, Miss Tresilian.'

‘Good day, Major. And thank you.' She smiled, an expression of genuine sweetness, and her face, that he had thought merely pleasant, was trans formed.

Hal swallowed, bowed and took himself off, pausing to direct a waiter to send ices and tea across to Lady Geraldine's table. He handed the coins to pay for it to Phillip. ‘Settle the account, there's a good chap,' he said, amused by the de lighted expression on the small boy's face as he followed the waiter, the coins clasped tight in his grubby fist.

A charming pair, the Tresilians, he thought as he strode towards the Place Royale exit, heading for his hotel and a couple of hours' sleep. One grubby urchin and one respectable young lady. One
virtuous
young lady, he thought and told himself to forget about her.

 

‘Tell me about your slimy dragon, Miss Tresilian.' Lady Geraldine fixed her eyes on Julia's face and smiled. Her regard wavered as someone approached their table.

‘My brother, ma'am,' Julia apologised as Phillip marched
up, waiter in tow, a huge grin on his grubby face. ‘He is not usually such a ragamuffin.'

‘Boys will be boys,' her ladyship remarked, with a glance at Major Carlow's disappearing figure. Julia dragged her own eyes away from broad shoulders in dark blue cloth. Did every officer have his uniform tailored to such a pitch of perfection? If they did, she had never noticed before.

‘However,' Lady Geraldine continued, ‘I am sure he does not need to hear the tale of the dragon. Monique!' Her maid came forward. ‘Please take Master Tresilian to a table in the shade to eat his ice. There, no-one can overhear us. Now tell me, what necessitated your rescue by Major Carlow?'

Julia could see no way out of telling her everything. ‘I presume Fellowes thinks that because we are not well off and I have no male relatives in Brussels, I am open to such offers,' she concluded. ‘It is very lowering to think such a man assumes something like that about one.'

‘It is nothing to do with your appearance or manner,' Lady Geraldine said soothingly. ‘After all, Major Carlow obviously recognized you as a respectable young lady, or he would not have brought you to me. And if the worst rake in Brussels sees that, then you have no need to fear.'

‘He warned me he was,' Julia said with a frown. ‘Not that I have any experience of rakes, but he did not seem so very shocking.'

Although she had been very aware of a faint, and very feminine perfume when she had taken his arm and there had been a smudge of what might have been face powder on his shoulder. And perhaps the tiny red mark on his cheek was rouge and not a shaving nick. There had been dark shadows under those beautiful blue eyes: it was beginning to dawn on her that the gallant major had probably come straight from a woman's bed to join his friends in the Parc.

‘Charm is a rake's stock in trade. He did not flirt with you?' Lady Geraldine appeared surprised.

‘I don't think so, ma'am.'

‘Extraordinary.'

Julia told herself that her good opinion of Major Carlow would have suffered if he
had
flirted, but she had the uncomfortable suspicion that she might have enjoyed it. No-one had ever flirted with her, and the fact that such a notorious rake had not at tempted it was disappointing. Unflattering, even. From a purely academic point of view, it would have been interesting to see what all the fuss was about.

‘May I have your direction, my dear?'

Julia jerked her wandering attention back from Major Carlow and opened her reticule. ‘Mama's card, ma'am.' Lady Geraldine was hardly likely to call on the Tresilians, although Mama would want to write and thank her for her help.

‘A good address,' Lady Geraldine observed.

‘I know. We were lucky to arrive before the rush.'

‘Indeed you were. After all, the Richmonds have had to settle for that barn of a place on Rue de la Blanchisserie in the Lower Town.' Something in her lady ship's smile hinted that she was not over-fond of the Duchess of Richmond. ‘When does Mrs Tresilian receive?' Goodness, she
did
intend to call! ‘Between two and four on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thurs days, ma'am.' But their usual callers were modestly circumstanced people such as themselves, not Society ladies. ‘Thank you for the tea, and for lending me countenance, Lady Geraldine. I must take Philip home.' Julia gathered up her reticule and her scattered wits and shook the proffered hand in its tight kid glove.

‘Will we meet the major again?' Phillip demanded, as they left the Parc and negotiated the crowd outside the Duke of Wellington's house. ‘I liked him.'

So did I…
‘I shouldn't think so,' Julia said. ‘But he had a lovely uniform: you must tell Mama all about it.'

‘And a great big sword for killing Boney with,' Phillip said with a blood thirsty chuckle, dancing off down the pavement swinging an imaginary weapon. Julia followed, suddenly sombre.

T
wo days later, Lady Geraldine duly called and was received by Mrs Tresilian and Julia, Phillip having been deposited with the landlady and a litter of kittens in the kitchen.

‘My niece has just gone back to England to be married,' Lady Geraldine observed once tea had been poured. ‘I find I miss having a young lady to go about with quite dreadfully— I have no daughter of my own, you see, and I do so enjoy the company of young people.' Mrs Tresilian made sym pathetic noises. ‘So, if you would lend Julia to me, I would be de lighted to chaperone her to parties and so forth.'

‘Lend?' Mrs Tresilian said faintly. ‘Parties?'

‘And balls: we seem to have them every night, after all. Routs, receptions, picnics. You know the sort of thing.'

‘Me?' Julia felt she had to add something, however inane.

‘You do enjoy parties, Miss Tresilian?'

‘Yes, ma'am. But I know no-one in Society…'

‘But I do. Mrs Tresilian? I would not be depriving you?'

‘Not at all,' Mrs Tresilian said with emphasis. ‘I live very quietly, which is so dull for Julia.'

We cannot afford to live any other way!
Julia thought in alarm.
Parties? Balls? Picnics? That means gowns and silk stocking and gloves and…money. What is Mama thinking of? I cannot spend like that just to enjoy myself!

Lady Geraldine stayed the regulation half hour then departed in a froth of green muslin leaving promises of invitations, a wave of chypre perfume and two astonished Tresilians behind her.

‘Mama! I have not got a thing to wear.'

‘Well, that would present an original appearance!' her mother observed with a smile. ‘Let us make a list of what you will need. We can trim up somethings with fresh ribbons, and we can look at my lace, see what can be done with that. But a ball gown is essential. A new afternoon dress, a walking dress. And something for half-dress occasions. We will make a list.'

‘But how can we afford it?'

‘It will be an investment. This is a miraculous chance, to be here just now when Brussels Society must be full of men who do not need to hang out for a rich wife. It will not be as it has been up to now, with so many people like us, here to save money. Dip lo mats, confidential secretaries, cha plains, officers—think of it!' Julia did, and very improbable it seemed that any of them might be interested in her.

‘We cannot hope for a title, of course, just a com fort ably circumstanced gentleman, but even so, it will be worth the effort.' Mrs Tresilian gave a happy sigh. ‘You are a good girl, Julia, you deserve some enjoyment and the opportunity to find a husband worthy of you.'

Julia sat down on the hard horse hair sofa and tried to imagine being part of that social whirl. But it would be a huge responsibility, and a gamble. If Mama spent their precious savings on gowns, then she
must
find a husband. It had been so long since she had come to accept that without dowry or
connections she was never likely to marry, that the idea of setting out in cold blood to find a husband was daunting.

‘You are quite right, Mama.' Julia managed a smile. This was her duty and she must try, however diffident or awkward she felt. ‘It is a wonderful opportunity and I will do my best to attach a respectable gentleman.' It was disconcerting to find that despite this worthy resolution, the only feature she could imagine that this unknown paragon should possess was a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes.

 

Hal sauntered into Lady Fanshawe's reception on the stroke of eleven with every intention of enjoying himself and no particular scruples about how. He had spent a hard day drilling with his troop at their base near Ninove, ten miles from the city. It had meant a long gallop to get back to bathe and for his valet to insinuate his long limbs into his skin-tight dress uniform. After that, he had been ready for supper and a bottle of claret with friends in one of the little bistros that had sprung up to serve the influx of officers.

Now, refreshed and relaxed, he smiled at the prospect of an evening surrounded by beautiful, intelligent and, above all, so phisticated women. He would drink champagne, find a willing partner and arrange an assignation for later. He greeted his hostess and turned to view the throng: heated, chattering, animated with the heady mix of alcohol, gossip and sexual intrigue. And
there
was a woman who might have been de signed for exactly what he had in mind: Lady Horton. Her husband, as always, was nowhere to be seen. Hal strolled across, amused by the way in which she pre tended she had not seen him, posing and laughing to show off face and figure to best ad vantage.

And what a figure, he thought appreciatively—lush, graceful and provocatively displayed in shell-pink satin silk that
clung to every curve. And if she was wearing a stitch of under wear beneath it, he was a French general. Hal made himself a small bet that he would discover the truth of that by sun-up.

‘Lady Horton. Barbara—' he lowered his voice ‘—you look edible.'

She turned, laughing up at him, every line of her body confirming the wanton message in her big brown eyes. If he wanted her, she was his.

‘Edible?' She pouted and his body tightened as the tip of her tongue touched her full lower lip.

‘A perfect bonbon. Sweet straw berry cream encased in wicked dark chocolate,' Hal murmured, reaching out to flick one glossy curl over her shoulder. ‘It makes me want to bite. And lick. Very slowly.' She moved close so the scent of her skin—warm woman, musky perfume, desire—filled his nostrils.

‘How will you keep your elegant figure,' she murmured back, reaching up to brush an imaginary fleck from the braid on his chest, ‘if you eat such naughty sweet things?'

‘I will have to exercise it off.' Hal held her eyes. ‘Hard.'

Barbara's lips parted and her lids drooped heavy over those insolently beautiful eyes. She adored this, lived for it—the compliments, the suggestion, the intrigue. And by reputation she was magnificent in bed: skilled, demanding and tireless. ‘We should discuss that at our leisure. You know where I live. The side door will be open,' she said, husky promise in every syllable. ‘Untillater.'

‘Later,' he agreed, lifting her hand to kiss her fingertips. Then as he straightened up, he found his gaze captured by another pair of fine brown eyes, only these were wide, clear and, he could tell from right across the room, shocked.

Hell.
Miss Tresilian, here, looking like a snowdrop in a hothouse, all simple purity against glaring colour and elabora
tion. And with an expression akin to a nun who had walked into a brothel. What was she doing here? His assessment of her as outside Society must have been adrift. Hal was conscious of the tingling along his nerves, a sharpening of his attention that signalled the urge to flirt, to hunt, to… No, this one was an in no cent.

By his side, Lady Horton had turned to another guest. She would flit through the rooms, garnering compliments and outrageous offers, laughing and teasing, becoming heated and excited. Becoming ready for him.

Hal bowed slightly towards Miss Tresilian, and her chin went up, infinitesimally. She inclined her head and turned back to speak to the young lady at her side. A display that would not have shamed a duchess acknowledging a distant, and not very desirable acquaintance—if it were not for the fact that she had blushed like a peony.

And now he felt uncomfortable to have been under that clear-eyed scrutiny while he set up his liaison.
Damn it, is she judging me? She knows what I am, I told her.
The fact that he had just told himself off for wanting to pursue her made him feel irrationally indignant. He was trying to behave himself and she was giving him the cold shoulder. The urge to hunt resurfaced, and this time he did not attempt to control it.

Hal walked straight across the floor towards the chattering group of single young ladies gathered under the eyes of the seated chaperones while they waited for suitable, approved gentlemen to come over. He was not a suitable, approved gentleman of course. This could be amusing. It would certainly teach his virtuous new acquaintance not to send him disapproving looks.

 

‘He's coming over,' Miss Marriott hissed.

‘Who?' Julia enquired, fanning herself, her shoulder turned to the room. She knew perfectly well who, and she
had seen clearly the way Hal Carlow's eyes had narrowed and his chin had come up when he had found her staring. He had not relished her scrutiny, it seemed. Well, he should not flirt like that with provocatively clad ladies in public. If flirting was the word: they had looked as though they were mentally undressing each other. She put a hand to her cheek, dismayed at her own blushes.

‘Major Carlow of course! Do you think he will talk to us? He is quite shocking you know—did you see him just now with Lady Horton? Mama will be furious if he does come over. Only he is
so
good looking.' She pouted as Major Carlow was stopped by an artillery officer. ‘Oh. Anyway, even he would not talk to us without an introduction, I suppose.'

Julia had known Felicity Marriott for some time. Her father was a baronet and he and his family were visiting Belgian relatives by marriage, not living in exile to save money. Miss Marriott was used to parties of this kind, and her mother had assured Mrs Tresilian that she was more than happy to keep an eye on Julia as well as Felicity. Lady Geraldine might be kind enough to obtain invitations, but Julia must not expect her to play the chaperone the entire evening, her mother had warned.

‘I have met Major Carlow,' she admitted. Her pulse was beating erratically; it had been from the moment she saw who it was talking to Lady Horton in her utterly indecent gown.

The conversation had been indecent too, she was certain. They had stood so close together, the eye-contact had been so intense, that Julia felt scorched by it. And he had seen her staring at him again and now he was coming over and she was probably going to sink through the floor with shame.

‘Really? How?' Felicity broke off, simpering. Here he was. How he had got into that uniform, which was skin tight and blatantly showed off his quite excellent physique, she could not imagine. Perhaps he was sewn into it. Thinking
about that made her decidedly flustered and cross with both of them. He should not wear such shockingly tight trousers and she should not notice.

‘Miss Tresilian. Miss Marriott, I believe? A charming affair, do you not think?'

‘Delightful, such fun, such lovely flowers,' Felicity babbled, beaming at him in a way that was going to earn her a severe word from her mother later.

‘And do you think it delightful too, Miss Tresilian?'

Julia made herself meet his eyes, very blue in the candlelight. The dark smudges were still beneath them, making him look faintly dissipated. There was colour on his high cheekbones, but it was certainly not from shame or confusion. The thrill of pursuit, no doubt, although that woman had hardly needed chasing.

‘Utterly delightful, Major Carlow. But this is a rare treat for me, so my opinion is not the equal of Miss Marriott's on the subject.' Over his shoulder, she could see the lady he had been talking to, her pink satin gown clinging to her long limbs as she prowled around the room. ‘I have been admiring the gowns,' she said, coming out with the first subject that came into her mind.

‘Indeed? And I am sure many will have been admiring yours, Miss Tresilian. A model of chaste simplicity, if I may say so.' His eyes ran over it as though they could penetrate the modest neckline and the layers of petticoats.

Dull, he means. Prudish compared to the other gowns. Why even Felicity's bodice is cut lower, and her mama is very strict.
She had been pleased with the primrose silk underskirt and Mama's idea of buying two lengths of gauze—one cream the other amber—when they saw it at a bargain price. It would be an easy task to sew alternative over skirts onto the silk gown and give the illusion of her having a more extensive wardrobe than she did.

But
chaste simplicity,
when it was the result of having no money for lace or flounces, was not the fashion. Nor were home-made gowns a match for shell-pink satin. He had no need to patronise her, she thought, maintaining her expression of polite interest with some effort. Although how he managed to be both patronising and make her feel he was simultaneously undressing her, she had no idea.

‘Felicity!' Lady Marriott swept her daughter away, leaving Julia stranded with Major Carlow. Apparently, in her haste, it did not occur to her to rescue her other charge. Julia realized she was unable to think of a single syllable of conversation to break the silence.

‘What did I say to make you poker up so?' he enquired, placing her hand on his arm and strolling towards the buffet. Julia followed, chiding herself for being so meek. But just how did one snub a rake? ‘Have a glass of champagne, Miss Tresilian, and explain how I have offended you.'

‘You haven't,' Julia lied.

‘Nonsense, you were looking highly disapproving, like one of the chaperones. You must tell me or I will not let you go and ten minutes in my company is all your reputation will bear.'

‘You are outrageous,' Julia said, alarmed, annoyed and illogically inclined to laugh.

‘I know. I did warn you.' They halted by the buffet where footmen were pouring wine from bottles standing in long ice troughs.

‘You remarked on my gown,' she admitted, twitching the gauze as though that would trans form it into a creation from the pages of
La Belle Assemblée.

‘I complimented you upon it,' Major Carlow corrected her, handing her a flute of sparkling wine.

‘Sarcastically.' Julia took a sip and sneezed. ‘Oh dear, I do not usually drink this.'

‘Then you must have some more and become accustomed.' He took a bottle and topped up both their glasses. ‘You thought me sarcastic? I meant nothing but honest admiration. That style suits you.'