Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress (11 page)

Allan was consumed with rage. Of all the manipulative, self-centred things Tranville had done, this was the pinnacle.

‘I have no fortune,’ he admitted stiffly. ‘But that is of no consequence. You have no right to force—’

‘Oh, I do not
force
.’ Tranville’s self-congratulatory tone turned threatening. ‘I insist. If you do not do right by my niece, I will ruin your career in the army. I will make certain the parents of every marriageable young lady in the
ton
learn you are a callous seducer of respectable women.’

‘You will do nothing of the sort!’ cried Marian.

Tranville turned his malevolent gaze on her. ‘Will I not, you ungrateful wretch!’

Allan could endure this no longer. He surged forwards, ready to put his face into Tranville’s and tell him exactly what he thought of him.

Miss Blane pulled him back.

Tranville continued to address Marian. ‘If you do not do what I say, young lady, you will not get a penny of your money until you inherit. How will you live then, eh? You’ll be in the first man’s bed who will have you. By the time you inherit, no decent man will want you.’

Allan pulled away from Miss Blane. ‘This is beyond everything. Apologise this instant!’

Tranville was unstoppable. ‘Is it not a bit late to play the champion, Landon? You have been sharing quarters with her for days.’

‘Say and do what you want about me,’ Allan seethed, ‘but your niece has done nothing to deserve these high-handed threats. Her behaviour is to be admired, not punished.’

The General’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know what I am capable of, Landon. If you value your army career, your good name and your future, you will do as I say.’ He tilted his head towards Marian. ‘And if you defy my wishes, she will be ruined.’

‘Lionel—’ Mrs Vernon pleaded.

His head whipped around to her. ‘Stay out of this, woman!’

Allan held up his hands. ‘Enough!’ He turned from Tranville to Marian. ‘We will marry. Even though I detest your uncle’s interference in the matter, marriage has always been the only honourable option.’

‘No,’ she rasped, so low only Allan could hear.

Tranville laughed like a demon. ‘I knew he would agree the moment I said you were rich.’

Allan glared at him, his fingers curled into fists. It was all he could do not to strangle the life out of him.

‘Let us leave now, Marian.’ He took her arm and backed away from the bed. ‘We can discuss this as we walk back.’

They started towards the door.

‘Not so hasty, girl,’ her uncle called after her. Now what?

‘You are not going back to perform menial tasks to a house full of men. You stay here.’

‘No!’ she cried.

Allan could not leave her with Tranville. Not after this. ‘If you say I’ve already compromised her, what does it matter? She comes with me.’

‘Do not add arrest to the list of things I might do to you, Landon,’ Tranville countered. ‘I am her legal guardian. She must do as I tell her and I tell her she is to stay here.’

‘She can share my room,’ Miss Blane offered. ‘Come. I’ll accompany you both out. You can have her things sent here later, Captain.’

‘You see she returns, Ariana,’ Tranville shouted.

Miss Blane hurried them out of the door.

When they were out of earshot, she stopped them both. ‘Retreat was necessary. It is sometimes, is it not, Captain?’

He did not answer her.

‘He is horrible,’ Marian cried. ‘I refuse to do as he says. I do not care what he does to me.’

Miss Blane raised a finger. ‘Ah, but you do care what he does to Captain Landon.’

Marian averted her face.

‘Let him do what he wants to me.’ Allan touched Marian’s hand. ‘I will not let him hurt her.’

Sympathy warmed Miss Blane’s eyes. ‘The more you defy him, the worse he will become. Do you not know this to be true, Captain?’

‘Yes,’ he had to admit.

Miss Blane went on, ‘Idleness is bringing out the worst in him. I suggest you act as if you intend to do as he says. Give
it a little time. You will be able to do as you wish once he has something else to think about.’

‘You sound as if you know him well,’ Marian said.

She smiled. ‘Jack and I have been targets of his manipulation, but Jack made threats of his own. Tranville heeded them. We will renew those threats on your behalf, if necessary.’

‘I do not fear a confrontation with him,’ Allan said, his anger still blazing too hot to allow her to douse the flames.

‘I am certain you fear nothing, Captain,’ she responded. She shooed them to the stairway. ‘Talk together privately, but do not do anything hasty.’ She turned to Marian. ‘I will wait for you in the drawing room. Rest assured, you will be away from Lord Tranville’s company in my room.’

The Captain nodded in gratitude. ‘Come outside with me,’ he said to Marian, taking her arm.

They descended the stairs and continued through the hall out the front door of the hotel.

Outside the Hôtel de Flandres, he faced her. ‘Forgive me, Marian. I was wrong to bring you here.’

She clutched the sleeves of his coat. ‘Take me home, Captain. I do not want to stay here. I want to be with you and our soldiers.’

He shook his head. ‘I cannot. The cost to you is too great. We must do as Miss Blane suggests. Retreat for the moment and allow emotions to calm down.’

‘He cannot make us marry.’ Her face filled with anger again.

‘When do you inherit?’ he asked.

She looked at him suspiciously. ‘In a little more than a year’s time, when I turn twenty-one.’

‘Twenty-one?’ He was surprised. Most heiresses did not receive their inheritance until at least twenty-five.

‘I know it is unusual,’ she said. ‘But that was how my father wrote the will. Why do you ask?’

‘I propose we become betrothed, but we postpone marriage until after you are twenty-one. Once you have inherited, you
can decide to cry off if you wish.’ This way they could play Tranville’s game and win.

Her brow furrowed. ‘You propose to become betrothed only to thwart my uncle’s manipulations?’

He still believed that marrying her was the only honourable thing he could do, but he could not tolerate her thinking he had done so to appease Tranville. Indeed, he could not quite imagine life without her. He believed that fate had brought them together. All they had to do was the right thing, the honourable thing and all would work out well.

He cupped his hand against her cheek. ‘There is so much we have endured together that was not under our control. Let us put the issue of whether we marry or not into our hands and no one else’s.’

She nodded and flew into his embrace, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face against his heart. ‘This is not the proposal of which I have dreamed. I do not know if you want to marry me or want to be released from the obligation.’

He held her. ‘I know you do not want to marry me. You have said so more than once, but one thing I do know.’

‘What is that?’ she murmured against his chest.

He released her and lifted her chin with his finger. ‘My proposal is vastly superior to General Tranville’s.’

A laugh escaped her. ‘Do not jest.’

He held her against him again. ‘Be betrothed to me. For now. Perhaps even before I must leave Brussels we will be free to know our own minds.’

‘I do not want to stay here.’ She pulled away from him. ‘I want to be with our soldiers.’

‘I know.’ He glanced towards the hotel. ‘Avoid Tranville, but if you must see him, avoid a confrontation.’

She gave him a steady gaze. ‘I promise to avoid him.’

He smiled. ‘And I promise to see that your soldiers receive the best care possible.’

Her eyes glistened with tears. ‘Deep in the left-hand corner of my trunk is a purse. Keep its contents to pay for food and
the servants’ wages and for Valour, if you need it. I am very fond of Valour.’

His smile faded. ‘I will see to it.’ He had no intention of using her money for Valour, though. Only for the others. ‘I will send your trunk.’ She nodded.

‘We should say goodbye,’ he murmured.

She ran into his arms again. ‘Goodbye, Captain.’

He squeezed her as tightly as he could. ‘I will call upon you as soon as I can.’

With a quick brush of his lips against hers, Allan backed away and turned to walk from her.

E
dwin Tranville lounged on a bench, trying to muster enough energy to wander back to the inn that had become his home in Brussels, the one with the excellent Belgian beer. He’d come from there to the Hôtel de Flandres, shamed by Landon into the notion that he owed his father a visit.

Thank God he had talked himself out of it before crossing the threshold. He glanced over at the hotel’s entrance.

A British officer stood there with a woman. The two were engaged in an intense conversation and lots of intimate embraces. Lawd. It was probably some doxie trying to squeeze out more coin by making him more ruttish.

Would the man fall for her trick? The army seemed to breed men who were easily duped into paying a princely sum for a common whore.

‘Do not heed her,’ he said aloud, as if the officer was close enough to hear. ‘Do not pay a penny more than she’s worth.’

He peered at them again. The woman seemed to be dressed in a fashionable frock and there was something familiar about the man. Edwin rose from the bench and edged closer.

Lawd. It was Landon.

Landon, that paragon of perfection, was attempting to purchase a woman’s services. How very amusing.

The woman lifted her face and the sun illuminated her features.

It was his cousin!

Marian was in Brussels? How delightful she was here. Edwin greatly needed a friendly smile and some support and sympathy, just the sort Marian could provide.

He took an eager step forwards, but stopped. Why was she with Landon? Why this
intimate
conversation with him?

Landon kissed her on the lips and set off towards the Parc, a stern look on his face. Edwin fumed.

Was everything in his life to be a competition with Landon? His father already relentlessly compared his skills as an officer to Landon’s and, of course, Landon was never the one found wanting. He should not have to compete for Marian’s attention too. Marian was not like other women. She was clever and had been the only woman who truly understood him.

She was his cousin, after all. He’d even thought that some day he might marry her, if he had to…. Some day, when he was ready. Good God, would he now be required to
romance
her better than Landon?

Marian stood at the doorway of the hotel for a long time, watching Landon walk away. Suddenly, she pulled open the door and went inside as if Landon had upset her. That was good.

Edwin rubbed his scar. What ought he to do next? Go in the hotel and see Marian? Or chase after Landon and discover what had transpired between them?

He decided to chase after Landon.

It was easy to spy him striding across one of the paths in the Parc. Edwin ran to catch up to him. ‘Landon!’

Landon turned and scowled, but waited.

Edwin panted so hard he could barely speak. ‘Where are you going in such haste?’

‘Back to my rooms, if it is any of your concern.’ Landon started walking again.

‘I saw you with a lady just now.’ He stopped to catch his breath. Lawd, he needed a brandy. Or more Belgian beer.

Landon glared at him.

Edwin straightened his spine. ‘You were with my cousin and I demand to know what business you have with her.’

Landon stared down into Edwin’s face. ‘If you wish to know, ask her.’ He turned away again.

Edwin seized his arm and pulled him back. ‘I am asking you, sir.’

Landon winced and placed a hand on his shoulder. When he spoke his eyes glittered with acrimony. ‘I am betrothed to her.’ He pushed Edwin aside and strode away.

Edwin’s jaw fell.

Betrothed? Marian was betrothed to Landon?

This was a matter not to be endured.

He headed back to the inn where he lodged. No beer this time. He needed brandy to calm his nerves.

He scratched his scar. Brandy first, then he’d return to his father’s hotel and get to the bottom of this loathsome betrothal.

When Allan reached the Fentons’ rooms a missive was waiting for him, asking him to report to the regimental office at the Place Royale the next day. They wanted him to rejoin the regiment in France as soon as possible.

He crumbled the paper in his fist.

He needed more time, time with Marian to sort out the mess he’d created by taking her to Tranville.

He wanted to marry her. It was, simply, the right thing to do. Tranville’s interference and threats had tainted what should be something wonderful between them.

It was a good plan for them to wait. Allan needed to make
something of himself before marrying her. He could not just live on her fortune. He had to bring something to their marriage. He had to
be
something.

With Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo, war was probably over and a future in the army was not likely. Besides, Allan had enough of battle.

He needed something. Some direction in life. Something to bring to a marriage with Marian.

He crumpled the missive from the regimental office in his hand and went off to tell the servants and the soldiers that Marian would not be back.

Edwin was very careful not to drink too much brandy. Marian had always been able to tell when he’d imbibed too much. He drank only enough to steady his shaking hand and settle his nerves before returning to the Hôtel de Flandres.

He supposed he must call upon his father before seeking out Marian, always a depressing prospect and one he’d almost totally avoided. Why pretend a filial affection he neither felt nor received? Landon had been right about one thing. Edwin would have been delighted if his father had died on the battlefield. Jack Vernon did him no favour by acting the hero.

At least his father’s illness provided him the excuse of remaining in Brussels. Edwin was perfectly willing to pretend concern for his father in order to avoid marching to France with the regiment. He had already called upon his father once soon after Jack brought him back to Brussels. His father had been feverish and smelly and the detestable Mrs Vernon had hovered over him.

At this moment, though, it was expedient to make another visit to the sickbed and play the dutiful, concerned son. It was what Marian would expect of him.

He entered the hotel and walked up the stairway to his father’s room.

He lifted his hand to knock on the door. ‘Lawd, I hope that woman is not in there.’ He hated encountering Mary
Vernon, or any of the Vernons. He took a breath and rapped on the door.

Mrs Vernon’s manservant opened the door.

‘I came to see my father,’ he snapped at the man.

‘He is sleeping, sir,’ the servant said. ‘I would not suggest waking him.’

Thank God. Perhaps his luck was improving. ‘Very well. I will call upon my cousin, then. Which room is hers?’

The man hesitated before responding, ‘If you would be so good as to wait in the drawing room off the hall of the hotel, I will seek out Miss Pallant and send her to you.’

This servant was Mrs Vernon’s man. He had no right to dictate to Edwin. ‘Direct me to Miss Pallant’s room.’

The servant stood his ground. ‘I cannot. It is not my place to do so. Be so good as to wait below stairs.’

Edwin gave the servant a withering look, but turned and sauntered away. He descended the stairs and stopped the hotel attendant. ‘Bring me a carafe of claret and two glasses, and put it on Lord Tranville’s account.’ At least if he must wait for Marian, his father could provide the refreshment.

The drawing room was reasonably comfortable and the attendant was prompt in delivering the wine. Edwin lowered himself into a chair and poured a glass, downing it in one gulp. He poured another.

No sooner had he done so than his cousin entered the room.

‘Marian!’ He stood and held out his hands.

She allowed a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I am happy to see you, Edwin.’ No smile creased her face. ‘I hope you are well.’

‘I am,’ he exclaimed, then thought better of it. ‘As well as a man can be who has endured a battle.’

She sat in one of the chairs. ‘Were you injured?’

‘No.’ He stroked his scar. ‘At least nothing to signify.’

She gazed at him with some sympathy. Let her think him the worse for wear.

‘So you were in the battle?’ she asked.

He sat in a chair opposite her. Next to the table holding the claret. ‘I carried messages for General Picton and for Father.’ He lowered his eyes as if a pang of grief assailed him. ‘That is, until Picton fell and Father was lost.’

‘You carried messages?’ She seemed to brighten. ‘What a coincidence—’ She waved a hand. ‘Never mind.’

He narrowed his eyes. Landon had probably told her the same thing. At least it seemed Landon had not mentioned his absence in the battle.

‘I understand Uncle Tranville had a very dramatic rescue.’ She seemed to be making conversation with effort.

‘Yes.’ Edwin did not elaborate. He had no intention of glorifying Jack Vernon. ‘Would you like a glass of claret? I took the trouble of ordering it, thinking it would please you.’

She nodded. ‘That was kind of you.’

He poured claret into the empty glass and handed it to her.

He took a big drink from his own glass, wishing the claret were as warming and numbing as brandy or as smooth as the Belgian beer. ‘I just learned today you were in Brussels.’

She barely sipped hers. ‘I came with Domina and her family, but they have gone back to England now.’

‘Domina.’ He rolled his eyes. Marian’s tedious friend.

‘We came in late May,’ she added.

None of this explained how she had become betrothed to Landon. ‘I suppose you attended many parties.’

She nodded again and took another sip of wine, but glanced down at her lap, seemingly lost in thoughts that did not involve him.

He drained his glass of claret and poured himself another. Nothing for it but to be direct. ‘I happened to meet up with Allan Landon earlier today—’

Her head rose.

He went on, ‘He told me—’

‘—that we are betrothed.’ Her eyes flashed as if the idea made her angry.

He leaned forwards and grasped one of her hands. ‘Why, Marian? I did not even know you were acquainted with him. Are you really going to marry him?’

She looked away. ‘Oh, Edwin. It is very complicated.’

He donned an expression of devoted interest. ‘I am at liberty to listen.’

She looked angry again. ‘I do not wish to talk about it. Can you understand? It was a very sudden thing and not at all a certainty. It is too much to explain.’

Not a certainty? That was encouraging.

He squeezed her hand. ‘I always thought you would marry me, Marian.’ He tried not to sound resentful. ‘I thought you knew that.’

She pulled out of his grasp. ‘Oh, Edwin.’ She looked at him with dismay. ‘We are much too close to be married. It is simply not possible.’

He was offended by her tone. ‘Many cousins marry. The whole aristocracy is one inbred mess.’

She shook her head. ‘But you and I grew up like brother and sister. I could never think of you any other way.’

But she could think that way of Landon? He poured himself the last of the claret.

She looked at his glass disapprovingly. ‘Besides, you never said one word to me about marriage. Ever.’

‘How could I? I was stuck in the army.’ He drank his wine and damned her disapproval.

She made an exasperated sound. ‘I have had enough of proposals, Edwin. Do not tease me about this further. You are my cousin and I love you as such. But that is all.’ She stood. ‘I must go back to my room now.’

He stood as well. ‘Do not leave yet, Marian!’

‘I must. I simply cannot talk about this any longer.’ She started for the door.

He went after her. ‘Tell me one thing, then.’

She stopped.

‘Do you want to marry Landon?’

Her eyes were pained. ‘Call on me tomorrow, Edwin.’ She started for the door. ‘Perhaps I will be better company.’

He pushed ahead of her and blocked the doorway. ‘Do you want to marry Landon?’ he demanded.

‘I do not know,’ she finally answered.

He stepped aside and she fled up the stairs.

Edwin returned to his chair and picked up his glass, draining it of its contents. Then he finished hers, as well.

Lawd, if Marian married Landon, Edwin’s father would be comparing him to Landon from now until doomsday.

He slammed down the glass and stormed out of the room, back to the inn and the tavern that offered sweet oblivion.

The next day Allan called upon Marian and paced the drawing room, waiting for her. It was not long before she appeared, Miss Blane at her side.

‘Good day to you, Captain,’ Miss Blane said from the doorway. ‘Do not fear, I have no intention of remaining in the room. It is too soon to speak to Lord Tranville again, by the way, so I would not advise you attempting it.’ She closed the door behind her.

‘Marian,’ Allan whispered.

He had missed her. If possible she looked more beautiful than ever. Her dress was pale green, making the blue of her eyes even more vibrant. Her blonde hair was skilfully arranged, a dark green ribbon threaded through it. He could not take his eyes off her.

She walked gracefully towards him, reminding him of the swans on the Thames. ‘Why are you staring at me?’

He blinked. ‘I am having difficulty believing anyone ever mistook you for a boy.’

Her face reddened. ‘Had I been a boy, we would not be in such a fix.’

‘It is not a fix, Marian.’

She averted her gaze. ‘I suppose you are going to ask me to call you Allan.’

‘Not if you do not wish to.’ It only mattered a little that she did not wish this intimacy with him.

‘Good.’ She still sounded unhappy. ‘I am not certain I can give up calling you Captain.’ She glanced at him again. ‘How are our soldiers?’

‘All are doing well.’ He added, ‘They send their regards to you.’

Her expression softened. ‘Please tell them all they are constantly in my thoughts.’ He nodded.

He ought to invite her to sit, but instead took a step closer to her. ‘I am ordered back to the regiment.’

She looked surprised. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow. Or the next day, if I find some excuse.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It gives us no time.’