Married in Haste (4 page)

They had traveled halfway toward the door when Sir Charles stepped into her path. “Merton don’t dance,” he said bluntly. “And I have someone I want him to meet.”

She didn’t react to his rudeness. Instead, she held out her hand. “Sir Charles, you were one of my father’

s favorite friends. How good it is to see you again.”

Brenn hid a small smile as his crusty old friend was forced out of his defensive stance to take her hand.

“Pleasure,” Sir Charles said, his voice tight. “Hate to take Merton from you but I saw someone on the other side of the room that I particularly wanted Merton to meet. Come, lad, we shouldn’t keep the fellow waiting.”

He reached for Brenn’s arm but Brenn eluded him. “I am taking Miss Hamlin for a walk.”

“But lad,” Sir Charles pleaded. “This gentleman is very important.”

“So is my turn around the terrace with Miss Hamlin,” Brenn told him pointedly.

He took ahold of Miss Hamlin’s arm at the point where her glove ended above the elbow and started to steer her around him but Sir Charles could not be dissuaded. If he could not deter them, he would join them. He fell into step beside Miss Hamlin. “You know Merton is a war hero,” he told her.

“Sir Charles,” Brenn said in warning. What was the man doing?

“A hero?” Miss Hamlin asked with interest.

“Aye,” Sir Charles said. His eyes met Brenn’s and he shook his head in answer to Brenn’s silent, but no less clear command to leave it be.

Miss Hamlin caught the head shake. “Then you aren’t a hero?” she asked, confused.

“He is!” Sir Charles quickly stated. Refusing to look at Brenn, he said, “He saved my life, almost lost his leg doing it.”

“That’s why you limp,” she said with complete candor.

“From that and years of kicking Sir Charles, trying to get him to keep quiet,” Brenn muttered.

But Sir Charles was determined to go where angels feared to tread. “If it hadn’t been for Merton’s quick thinking,” he told Miss Hamlin, “I and a good score of men would have been French cannon fodder. He took out the cannon himself and then carried me across his shoulders back to camp. No one realized he was wounded until later.”

Miss Hamlin tilted her head up at Brenn. “You are indeed a hero, my lord.”

Brenn felt an unfamiliar heat steal up his neck. Why was Sir Charles doing this? He could handle Miss Hamlin himself without his war exploits being bandied about.

“A hero who blushes,” she added softly. “I’ve never seen a man act embarrassed when being publicly praised. You are a novelty, my lord.”

He was going to respond with some witty remark but at that moment, her attention strayed toward the dance floor. Her eyes narrowed.

Brenn glanced in the direction she looked while Sir Charles prattled on about the battle, oblivious to the fact he had lost his audience.

It appeared Miss Hamlin was frowning at Captain Draycutt, a pompous cavalry officer whom Brenn had dismissed earlier in the evening as more flash than substance. The man finished his dance with Miss Carrollton and led her over to a table for a glass of punch.

Brenn had met Miss Carrollton the evening before. The girl’s family was practically bankrupt. All she had to offer a man were her looks and, though she was attractive, she didn’t stir his blood the way Miss Hamlin did.

Few women had.

He wasn’t going to lose this fabulous prize to a cavalry officer.

Reaching for the handle of the terrace door, he yanked it open and whisked Miss Hamlin outside. He took grim satisfaction in closing the door on Sir Charles’s still talking face. The man frowned, shrugged, and then, with a roll of his eyes to wish Brenn well, wandered off to lose himself into the crowded ballroom.

Although it was late spring the temperature was chilly, so they were alone. The air smelled of rich earth and growing things.

Chinese paper lanterns strung from the corner of the house across to the trees in the garden cast yellow and red patterns on the ground around them. Their light reflected off the gold thread stars in the material of Miss Hamlin’s dress. The stars mirrored the ones in the clear sky above them—and for a second, Brenn’s imagination took over.

She looked like a goddess come to earth. No, not a goddess, a Titaness.

The minutes and seconds of his life seemed to have all led to this very moment. He wanted to capture it

—to never forget the smell of wax candles burning in fresh air, the coolness of the night against his skin, the nuances in her expression and movement.

A shiver ran through her.

“Is it too cold?” he asked. “Shall we return inside?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m a hearty English girl. The night air isn’t bothering me.” She ran her hand along the stone balustrade, walking its length away from the door and the sounds of music and laughter bleeding through from the other side.

Brenn followed her. She was a lure, drawing him toward the peaceful shadows of the terrace’s far corner. A statue of Diana, the huntress, stood there.

Miss Hamlin lightly touched the shoulder of the statue before facing him. “Why do I have the feeling that Sir Charles was most anxious that you and I not have a moment’s conversation alone?”

“He’s afraid I’ll make a fool of myself and make an offer for you.”

Her eyes brightened with interest. “Does he have a reason for fear?”

Brenn laughed. He sat on the edge of the balustrade, taking his weight off of his bad leg. “That would be a fool’s act, Miss Hamlin. I pray you don’t think me a fool.”

Her lips made a small moue of disappointment. “And here I’d hoped you would be like the others and prone to wild declarations.”

She was all but inviting him to make an offer. Poor Redgrave, Brenn thought. He’d been out of his league. But Brenn wasn’t. He leaned forward, placing his hand on the statue so that his fingers almost brushed hers but didn’t quite touch. “Do you wish a declaration?” he asked in the low, silky voice of a lover.

Her reaction was immediate. Her lips parted slightly in surprise. He could see the outline of her nipples tightening. She crossed her arms against her chest and stepped back. “I doubt if we both are taking about the same sort of declaration, my lord.”

“I thought you meant marriage,” he said with mock innocence.

“I doubt that, sir.” She paused. “Perhaps I should return to the ballroom before my absence is noticed.”

She started to leave but he reached out and caught her arm. “Don’t go.”

For the space of several heartbeats, they took each other’s measure.

He released his hold. “What do you want of me, Miss Hamlin?”

She blinked, surprised. “Why do you believe I want anything?”

“Intuition. A man learns to rely on his gut instinct in battle.”

“And are we at war?” she asked archly.

“The war between the sexes has gone on since time began.”

She started to laugh, to hide behind practiced wiles, but then stopped. “You are like no other man I’ve ever met.”

“In what way?”

She leaned against the balustrade. “Most men would be less forthright. More given to poetry and nonsense. They believe my head can be turned with a few choice compliments. And they would have taken my hint by now and promised eternal devotion.”

“I’m not a poet. But if I was, I don’t think I would wax on about the color of your eyes or the flame in your hair. I know I’d be ill-suited to describe the perfection of your figure, although I admit the freckles you attempt to hide with powder fascinate me.”

Her hand come up to her nose. “Freckles aren’t fashionable.”

“They’re adorable.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “No, if I could write a poem, I would dedicate it to your intelligence. To the proud way you hold your head and the sparkle of life I see in the depths of your eyes. I’d probably write about the way you laugh. I know that once I hear your laughter, I will never forget it.”

Her eyes had widened with each statement. She moved closer to the statue and Brenn knew that he had made an impact on her. “You have a lurid reputation, Miss Hamlin.”

She didn’t pretend to mistake his meaning. “I’ve done nothing to encourage that reputation. Or discourage it. Men make fools of themselves with little assistance from me. But you are the first one to notice that I have wit as well as hair. Usually, they assume I’m brainless. They rarely even ask if I read.”

“Do you read?”

“I read in three languages, my lord, and thank you for asking.”

He grinned. “I’m surprised. Tess Hamlin, Society’s darling, is a bluestocking.”

Her eyes crinkled with laughter. She raised a finger to his lips to shush him. It was a spontaneous gesture and yet her touch sparked all sorts of indecent thoughts inside of him.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she begged laughingly. “I have a good ear for languages. My sister-in-law insists I keep it secret or I will be ruined. My brother is too self-involved to even care. But my governess was an enlightened woman. She taught me to love knowledge. She believed that women are capable of all the best qualities attributed to men, including honor. What do you think of that statement, sir?”

“I have known many honorable women.”

“You have?” Miss Hamlin sat down on the balustrade beside him.

“I have even known women willing to fight and die for their country.”

“I would. If England were threatened, I would do battle.” She brushed her hand against Diana’s stone bow before looking at him. “You don’t laugh.”

“I see nothing funny in the statement. I find it admirable,” he said truthfully.

“Minnie was my governess’s name. She passed away several years ago, shortly before my father died.”

Her voice softened. “I still miss her. She was the most honest, honorable woman I’ve ever known. She wanted me to learn to think for myself.”

“And you have.”

Miss Hamlin looked up at the stars. “I don’t know.”

The conversation had gone from lighthearted to heavy and Brenn wasn’t sorry for it. He brushed a curl of her hair back behind her ear. “Life is too short to live it playing by others’ rules.”

“You speak from experience?”

“Years of it. Boarding schools, the military. Now, there are rules in Society. But shortly, I will be free to live my life under my own governance.”

Her lips twisted ruefully. “I envy you. I will never be free. Someday I will have a husband and more rules.”

“You have the wiles to set your own rules. You are not completely defenseless.”

She shot him a sharp glance. “No, I play the game well, but—” She broke off.

“But what?” he prompted.

She stood, hooking her arm around the statue of Diana’s shoulders before saying, “I envy Diana. I envy those who lived in a time of myth and magic. The games of the ton aren’t really me.”

“What is you?”

A wary look came into her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.” Brenn leaned forward. “After all, moments ago you were begging me to make a declaration.”

“I never beg!” she informed him with mock seriousness and they both laughed. She released her hold on Diana and wandered a few steps away. He watched, waiting, as she held out her hand to see the play of the shadows under the lanterns’ flickering light. And then she said softly, “Sometimes I wonder if there isn

’t something more to life. A reason for why I am here.”

The statement caught his attention. “We all wonder that.”

“Even war heroes?”

“There isn’t one man who has ever faced battle without asking that question.”

“And have you found any answers?”

Brenn didn’t know how to respond. “Well, the clergy have their opinions,” he said lamely.

“I know. I once asked Bishop Walters for guidance.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That my purpose in life was to please my husband and have babies.” She gave him a rueful smile. “But it doesn’t seem enough, does it? I mean, all those stars in the sky, they have a reason for being, but me—

?” She paused and then said with sudden fervency, “But it isn’t enough to repeat prayers. I want to feel a sense of purpose, of being, here deep inside. Instead I feel…” She shrugged, her voice trailing off.

“As if you are only going through the motions?” he suggested quietly.

Light shone in her vivid eyes. “Yes! That’s it.” She took a step toward him. “Do you feel that way, too?”

“At one time I did. Especially after a battle, when men were dying all around me and yet I had escaped harm. I felt there had to be a reason why I was spared and they were taken.”

She came closer. “Did you discover an answer?”

“I’m beginning to think that there is no answer to that question. Those men who died all loved life as dearly as I do. Some of them had responsibilities—wives, sweethearts, children. I think that perhaps we each have to find our own purpose. We can either continue to do what others expect of us, or we can search for meaning. My purpose in life is Erwynn Keep.”

“What is that?”

“My estate in Wales. It’s located in the heart of the Black Mountains. Beautiful country.”

“But how can a mere piece of property give you purpose?”

“As a soldier, I’ve spent my life destroying things. Don’t mistake my meaning, I’ve fought for good causes, but there is no joy in killing a man, whether justified or not. Now I want to build something, something that will outlast my lifetime. Something with meaning.”

“I don’t understand.”

He took her hand and drew her down to sit beside him. “My father was estranged from his family. I didn’

t even know I had an uncle who was an earl until the day his solicitor tracked me down in France and told me I had inherited a title and a home. Erwynn Keep is like finding a lost piece of myself, something I hadn’t even known I’d been missing. I’d never had a home in the sense of one place where I belonged.

My father was a military man and my mother traveled with him. They either left me with cousins or sent me to boarding schools. Erwynn Keep is my birthright. It is where I belong.”

“So you have found your purpose?”

“I think I have.”

She studied the ground as if she could find answers in the terrace stone. “I used to have a home. But Mother passed away years ago when I was five. Then, Minnie died. She was the one person who cared about me. Father doted on me but it is hard for a man to be close to a daughter, don’t you think?”