A Rose for Major Flint (Brides of Waterloo)

‘In a moment. There was something missing from my earlier proposal.’ Adam opened his hand to reveal a small blue Morocco-leather jeweller’s box, then went down on one knee beside her chair and opened it. ‘I hope you will do me the honour of wearing my ring.’

It was a yellow diamond, an oval set around with small brilliant diamonds. Adam took her left hand and slid it on to her ring finger. The fit was perfect. The sight of her fierce, tough warrior forcing himself through this charade of gentility was heartbreaking.

‘It is very lovely.’ Rose tried to inject warmth into her voice. ‘But why now, Adam?’

‘Because we are about to make this official.’ He hesitated, his head bent over her hand. Adam never hesitated. After three heartbeats he looked up and met her questioning gaze, his blue eyes shadowed. ‘And because I have come to realise that I love you and it would mean much to me for you to wear my ring.’

It sounded stilted, rehearsed. Untrue. Adam had always told her the truth before, always been clear, never hesitant. He had dropped her gaze and was looking at their linked hands again. This is a lie.

This was worse than she had feared. Now Adam Flint, the man who said he did not understand love, the man who had resisted using the words to her because he was so honest, had produced them as the ultimate argument.

‘I had hoped you would not say it, that you would not feel you had to, that we could do this with honesty between us,’ she said before she could lose her nerve.

His face hardened. Anger that she doubted his word, she supposed. ‘It is the truth.’ He really is not a very good liar, Rose thought drearily. But there was nothing to be said or this would simply descend into a circular argument about lost virtue, honour, duty… But at least he felt strongly enough to compromise that honour by telling her the falsehood he thought she wanted to hear.

‘Of course, I am sorry. And I love you,’ she murmured, truthfully, and leaned forward into Adam’s kiss before he could see the tears that blurred her sight.

It was the truth from her, at least. She loved him, she knew that as a certainty now. She would give him all that love, in bed and out of it. She would bring him land and connections and support in whatever path he wanted to take in the future. She would, she prayed, give him children to love. But now she could no longer give him her trust, just as she had feared. He would lie to her when he thought it was for her own good, he would probably lie to her when he thought it would protect her feelings when he tired of their lovemaking and sought other women.

On the battlefield, when Adam had found her tangled in those briars, she had believed he was the Devil come to take her down to hell for her sins. It was her own fault that she was in this situation, but the hell she faced was one of unrequited love and the knowledge that she had forced the man she loved to change his life utterly for her sake.

All she could hope was that she could at least make him happy, give him children to be proud of. Adam would have wealth beyond his own prudent savings and with that came choice, Rose told herself in an effort at reassurance. And he would be safe from death or hideous maiming. Surely no man really wanted to fight wars, not once his country’s enemy had been defeated. Adam had had no choices before, she told herself as her eyelids drifted closed, now he had.

*

Lady Anderson’s tea party was blessed with sunny weather and her extensive garden was set about with rugs and cushions, little tables and chairs. Footmen lurked behind every bush ready to proffer platters of sandwiches and dainty savouries whenever a plate became empty.

Rose shook hands with her hostess, nodded to numerous acquaintances, all of whom were staring at Adam, settled into a nest of cushions, accepted a cup of tea and waited for her ring to be noticed.

It did not take long. She was soon surrounded on her rug by half a dozen young ladies, lavish with good wishes and greedy for secrets.

‘How lovely,’ Miss Watts cooed after the ring had been admired and meaningful glances exchanged. ‘Such a rapid romance, was it not? Are you quite well, Miss Tatton? You look so pale.’

‘Yes, I am not quite myself today,’ Rose admitted and leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘I wouldn’t mention it to anyone but you, dear friends, but…’ She lowered her voice still further as they crowded closer, agog for a scandalous revelation. ‘It is that time of the month.’

‘Oh.’ Lady Althea Tate gaped at her. ‘Then you are not… I mean, what a nuisance not to feel well at such a lovely party when you must want to celebrate your happy news.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Rose sipped her tea. ‘But there is plenty of time to enjoy being betrothed. After all, we are in no hurry to set a date.’

‘You aren’t?’ Miss Watts said, then bit her lip.

Attack, Rose thought. ‘Oh! You surely did not think that the major and I…that I have to get married? Oh, my goodness, what a suggestion!’ She glared at the young woman, who turned an unbecoming shade of blotchy pink.

‘No, no, you quite misunderstand me,’ Miss Watts gabbled. ‘I mean, so many people are getting married quickly because of the end of the war, officers selling out, that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Rose smiled as innocently as she could manage. ‘Well, Major Flint and I have still to decide where we are getting married, let alone when. And I have my trousseau to plan.’

As she hoped, that sent the young women into a frenzy of clothes talk. Rose sank back against her pile of cushions and let it all wash over her. They would tell their mothers, their mothers would talk amongst themselves and the news that Miss Tatton might have made a somewhat unconventional choice of husband, but that there was no scandal attached to the marriage, would percolate along the gossip channels of Brussels society. Everyone’s reputations would be saved, Adam would become a wealthy man with choices about how he lived his life and she…she would learn to live with heartache.

Where was Adam? She had told him to stay away so she could deal with the unmarried ladies, now she wanted to look at him and draw some strength from the set of his shoulders, the blue of his eyes, the exchange of a smile.

Rose saw him at last standing alone in the shade of a cherry tree. He looked relaxed, successfully hiding any boredom he was feeling. Perhaps the knowledge that he had done the honourable thing, even if it had meant lying to her to achieve it, gave him some satisfaction. His head came up as a latecomer caused a flurry by the entrance. A tall, slender man in the same blue uniform jacket as Adam, his head swathed in a bandage, appeared to be flirting with Lady Anderson whose laughter could be heard clear across the lawn as she rapped him playfully on the sleeve with her fan.

The artillery officer caught up her hand, pressed an outrageous lingering kiss on the back of it and sauntered over to where Adam stood. Neither man was so relaxed now. Rose caught a subtle alertness in Adam’s stance and a wariness in the other man. Surely they were not going to fight? Then Adam smiled, shook his head and the other man gave him a friendly buffet on the shoulder before they moved off, deeper into the shade to where a pair of chairs had been set apart.

Curious now, Rose got to her feet and wandered around the edge of the lawn towards the shrubbery. It wasn’t that she wanted to eavesdrop, exactly, but she did wonder who the stranger with the head wound was. Could it be Major Bartlett, the rake that Lady Sarah had taken up with? If so, Adam was being exceedingly friendly, given the threats he had uttered.

As she loitered, wondering if she could get closer, the man strode out from behind a large rosebush right in front of her and caught at her hand to steady her when she stopped dead and almost tripped over her feet.