A Fine Passion (Bastion Club 4)

Their annoyingly imprecise conversation, but she could hardly insist they speak plainly.

“Yes for most, but not for me.” Warnefleet paused as if selecting his words, then he glanced at James. “There were many in our particular line of defence who were skeptical of the abdication. We all had roots in French society. None of us thought the battle was truly won.”

“Yet most came home.”

Warnefleet nodded. “But I and a few others remained. In my case, I had a good and reliable line to Elba. Others stayed in the

ports most likely to see first action. How long we’d have stayed, keeping watch as it were, I don’t know, but as it transpired, we didn’t see out a year before it was war again.”

“And then what?” James leaned forward, the eagerness in his face transparent.

Clarice found herself holding her breath; she risked a quick glance at Warnefleet’s face.

He was looking at her, but not seeing her.

She got the impression he was looking into the past.

Then his lips twisted, and he glanced at James. “Waterloo came on quickly.”

“You were there, weren’t you?”

“I and a group of others were technically involved in the engagement, but we didn’t get within ten miles of the battlefield.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “Supply lines?”

Warnefleet nodded. “We went first for the munitions, then the mounts, and lastly the reinforcements.”

James frowned. “I can see how you’d manage the first two, but the last?”

“Confusion and preferably chaos.” Again Warnefleet’s lips lifted in a wry grin. “We had to be inventive.”

To Clarice’s dismay, Macimber came in and started to clear the dishes. The meal had ended, but she hadn’t yet heard all she wished. How had he been inventive? How inventive had he been? What…?

James drained his wine, then set the goblet down and grinned engagingly at Warnefleet. “Well, m’boy, let’s go for a constitutional and you can tell me the details.”

Before she could think of some way to delay them, James rose and smiled at her. “Excellent meal, m’dear.”

She hid her disappointment behind a cool facade. “I’ll be sure to pass your commendation to Mrs. Cleever.”

“And mine, too, if you’d be so kind.”

She looked up and met Warnefleet’s eyes. He’d risen with James and now stood looking down at her. His gaze held a certain weight; she had no difficulty interpreting his message.

He was too clever to gloat, but he knew just how wrong she’d been, how awkward and untenable her attitude to him now was, and he wasn’t above letting her know it. He expected an apology, and she would have to give him one.

Her customary expression of serene calm anchored in place, she nodded graciously. “My lord. No doubt we’ll meet again.”

One brow quirked. His eyes cut to James, then he inclined his head. “Lady Clarice.” His hazel eyes recaptured hers; his lips lifted in a charming, wholly untrustworthy smile. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He bowed gracefully. She bit her lip on an acid retort and nodded in regal dismissal. She didn’t look his way as he left the room in James’s wake.

She might have to eat crow, but she wasn’t about to do it in public, not even in front of James. Instinct warned that whatever concessions she was forced to make to appease Warnefleet would definitely be better kept between themselves.

Chapter 3

Jack followed James out onto the rectory’s front lawn, a green and peaceful place surrounded by large trees.

“I still enjoy my after-lunch constitutional.” James waved to a worn track circling the lawn; Jack fell in beside him. “Now, tell me all.”