A Mistress for Major Bartlett (Brides of Waterloo)

‘Very well, a lot of womanising,’ she said, blushing. ‘I’ve never heard anything bad about you.’

‘Perhaps your family have kept it from you, have you thought of that?’

‘Oh. Well, yes, they do tend to keep things from me.’ Nobody but Gideon had ever answered any of her questions properly. It was always, no need for you to worry your head about such things. Or, not a suitable topic for ladies.

She lifted her chin and eyed him militantly. ‘Very well, then, Tom. Tell me yourself. What have you done that is so bad you don’t think you are fit to marry me? Apart from having the misfortune to have been sired by a man who was an utter disgrace. Which, let me tell you, makes us just about even as far as I’m concerned. What are your vices? Do you gamble?’

‘No. Do you think I could follow the course of a man I hold in such contempt? I hate watching my fellow officers losing their possessions to one another on the roll of a dice or the turn of a card. As far as I’m concerned, if a man wants to take another man’s property he ought to just steal it honestly.’

‘Do you steal things, then? Habitually?’

‘Not now I have the means to keep my belly full, no. Not unless I’m ordered to do so by a commanding officer to bring confusion to the enemy, at least.’

‘So it’s just the womanising, then.’ She took a deep breath and, though her face went bright red, asked him the most important question of all. ‘Are you in the habit of taking women against their will? Taking no account of whether they might be virgins?’

‘No!’ His shock and disgust were genuine, she could tell. ‘I’ve enjoyed a lot of women. But I’ve always ensured they enjoyed the encounter every bit as much as I have. More.’

‘That sounds a touch boastful.’

He glowered at her.

‘No. It’s just the way I happen to like it. Sex is a natural appetite. And like any appetite, men have preferences. Mine are for energetic, enthusiastic encounters. I need the... Hell, I shouldn’t be talking like this with you.’

She gave a small, cat-like smile.

‘Tom, what you have described is not the temperament of a rake. You are just a normal, healthy male, who needs...companionship every now and then.’

‘Are you actually trying to persuade me to marry you? Is that what you want? Was all your talk about staying free just words?’

‘No! I— You are twisting my words,’ she finished hotly. ‘I’m not talking about whether I want to marry you. Or anyone.’ She got to her feet and paced across the room to the window. ‘I’m saying that your reasons for not wanting to marry me, or for thinking you aren’t good enough, are totally stupid. That’s all.’

‘Is it?’

There was a coldness in his voice that sent a shiver down her own spine.

‘This—’ he waved his hand between them ‘—whatever this is, it can’t come to anything. It can’t survive outside this room.’

‘Does that matter?’ She strode back to the bed and grabbed at the hand he’d been waving at her. ‘Does it matter that there is no future for us? What we have now is precious.’ Her voice faded to a whisper. She bowed her head over his hand, raised it to her lips and kissed his knuckles. One by one. ‘I’ve never cared about any other man the way I’ve come to care for you, these past few days. I’ve never felt moved, when a man said he loved me, the way your declaration just now moved me. I never wanted any man to love me.’ She looked up at him, confusion clouding her eyes. ‘Tom, let’s not talk about this any more. About feelings, or the future. Let’s just...’

‘Enjoy the moment?’ There was a bleakness in his eyes, even as he gave that lopsided smile, and shrugged. ‘Yes. Why not? It’s what I’m best at. Seizing whatever opportunities come my way. Forget I said anything. I told you it was foolish. Ill timed. Shows how low this wound has laid me,’ he said, touching the bandage over his head. ‘In my right mind I’d never have done anything so crass as scare a lady away with such maudlin talk as I’ve been spouting these last few minutes. I don’t suppose,’ he said, drawing his hand from hers and looking towards the door, ‘you could persuade Madame to bring me some brandy? And something to eat apart from the pap she’s been ladling out?’

Sarah went to the door. ‘I will go and ask,’ she said, keeping her face averted, so he wouldn’t see the tears that were stinging her eyes.

If he felt he was maladroit, what did that make her?

Touched in the upper works, Gideon would have said. It was the only thing to account for any of her behaviour, this last week.

The smells that assailed her nostrils, when she reached the kitchen, were so delicious they made Sarah’s stomach rumble.

She paused in the doorway, watching Madame and her kitchen maid bustling about, wondering how she could feel hunger, could carry on having any feelings, when Gideon—who’d been her whole life—had none.

And yet there was no denying she wanted some of Madame’s soup and a slice of her fresh, crusty bread.

And Tom.

‘Tom has asked if he can have something a bit more, um...’ She faltered, loathe to speak disparagingly of Madame’s provision so far. ‘Substantial.’

‘Ah, that is good, no? It means he is getting stronger. Gaston said he thought so this morning, when he went up to give him the wash. But you, ma petite? How are you?’