The Officer and the Proper Lady

‘Ma’am, I am sure you do not. But he is not to be trusted and has done my family a great deal of harm.’

‘The Hôtel de la Poste,’ Julia said. ‘He was very charming and gave us what I know to be an honest price.’

Hal’s face was set, his jaw formidable. ‘Yes, his charm is part of his stock in trade. If you will excuse me, I will go to that hotel, although I doubt he will return there. The man is like mist. Have nothing more to do with him, do you under stand me, Julia?’ She nodded. ‘Nothing.’ And then he was gone, cutting through the crowd, heading for the steeply sloping streets down to the Lower Town.

‘Well really!’ Mrs Tresilian fumed. ‘Of all the abrupt, outrageous—and he called you by your given name!’

‘I think only to emphasise the importance of the matter, Mama,’ Julia soothed. Trying to sound calm was an effort. She felt flustered and…aroused. There was no other word for it. Hal, urgent and forceful and powerful. Oh my, she thought faintly. It made her feel so…Julia groped for the right word. Female. ‘I am sure Major Carlow’s judgment is to be trusted. We should have nothing more to do with Mr Hebden.’

‘You will have nothing more to do with Major Carlow, my girl! That is rather more to the point. Nothing—do you hear me?’

‘Yes, Mama.’ As Julia said it, she meant it. Whatever the mystery behind Hal’s vehement attack on the gem dealer, she was never going to find out what it was. By the end of the month, she was going to be another man’s affianced wife, she was certain of that.

‘There’s a lot of money on you,’ Captain Grey re marked as Hal ran his hand down the bay gelding’s fetlock. ‘Most of it mine.’

‘Is that a plea or a threat?’ Hal enquired, straightening up. ‘Put fifty on for me, will you?’ The animal fidgeted, tossed its head and rolled its eyes. ‘Stand still you daft lump,’ Hal murmured, and the twitching ears swivelled to listen. ‘You are big and you are beautiful and no-one is going to beat you, do you hear me?’

‘Under stands every word you say, does he, sir?’ the lanky trooper holding the gelding’s reins enquired.

‘Every word.’ Hal narrowed his eyes at the man who stared back. The pock marked face was un familiar. ‘Where’s Trooper Godfrey?’

‘Saw ’im over by that tent, sir.’ The man jerked his head towards one of the beer tents that was doing a roaring trade in half a dozen varieties of Belgian beer. ‘Castin’ up ’is accounts. Sick as a cat he was, said to come over here and ’old the ’orse, sir.’ He shifted under Hal’s stare. ‘Trooper ’arris, sir. Just transferred from the Ninth.’

‘Right.’ Hal told himself he was being jumpy, but the fleeting appearance of Stephen Hebden had him checking every shadow. And the damn man had been with Julia. He was gone from the hotel when Hal reached it, of course, and there had been no sign of him since. He tried to tell himself it was coincidence; after all, the man genuinely was a gem dealer when he wasn’t pursuing his vendetta against those he blamed for his father’s death. And just now, Brussels was full of people with debts to pay and jewellery to dispose of.

Hal turned his attention back to the gelding, his second-string horse. Too young and nervy for battle yet, it had a turn of speed that was breath taking. He’d hoped to keep that a secret, but word seemed to have got around, unless of course they were simply betting on him as a rider, which was flattering.

‘Carry on, Trooper Harris. Walk him slowly, and keep the flies off him. The start’s in half an hour.’

‘Sir.’

‘Drink?’ Will suggested.

‘No.’

‘Given it up for Lent?’ his friend enquired.

‘It isn’t Lent.’ Hal strolled through the crowd, studying it as he might scan a hillside for enemy snipers. The consciousness that he was being watched had him turning, but there was only Trooper Harris, leading Chiltern Lad towards a clump of shade trees.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure whether it was Hebden or the fact that he hadn’t touched anything stronger than ale since Friday that was jangling his nerves. And he wasn’t even sure why he had stopped drinking, other than a vague feeling that Julia would prefer it if he didn’t. Which was absurd, as he had promised himself to stay away from her and if ever there was a reason to drown his sorrows, that was it.

‘Major Carlow. Captain Grey.’ A feminine voice.

Hal stopped so suddenly that Will ran into the back of him. ‘Miss Tresilian.’

‘Good morning, Major. Captain.’ She stood there with Miss Marriott, pretty and poised, twirling her parasol, and tricked out in a gown so frivolously delightful it should have been illegal anywhere near susceptible bachelors. She did not look particularly pleased to see him. In fact, her face in the shade of her bonnet brim was a trifle pale.

‘We were wondering where the best place was to watch,’ her friend said.

Will, at least, appeared to have the power of speech. ‘To watch the start or the finish, ladies?’

‘All of it, I suppose.’ Miss Marriott was batting her eyelashes at Will. ‘I suppose we ought to go and watch from the carriages.’

‘You are with the baron?’ Hal managed to get his brain and his vocal cords under some sort of control.

‘I am,’ Julia replied. For a moment, he thought she was going to turn on her heel and walk away, then she sighed, as though in resignation and added, ‘With Mama and Mr Smyth. Did you say something, Major?’

Hal un clenched his teeth. ‘No, Miss Tresilian.’