From London With Love: Disgrace and Desire / The Captain and the Wallflower

Setting his jaw, Jack made a stiff bow. Unperturbed, Alex Mortimer nodded to him before addressing Lady Allyngham.

‘I must go. I am going out of town this afternoon: I have business with my land agent in Hertfordshire which will take me a few days, I think.’ He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘Send a note if you need me, Elle. I can be here in a few hours.’

Jack watched the little scene, his countenance, he hoped, impassive, and waited silently until Alex Mortimer had left the room. There was no doubt that Mortimer and the lady were on the very best of terms. He had to remind himself it was none of his business.

‘What is it you wished to say to me, Major Clifton?’

Lady Allyngham’s softly musical voice recalled his wandering attention. She disposed herself gracefully into a chair and invited him to sit down.

‘Thank you, no,’ he said curtly. ‘This will only take a moment.’

‘Oh. I had hoped you might be able to tell me something of my husband.’

She sounded genuinely disappointed. He reached into his pocket.

‘Before he died, Lord Allyngham gave me these, and asked me to see that they were returned to you.’ He dropped the ring and locket into her hands. ‘I apologise that it has taken so long but I was in Paris until the summer, with the Army of Occupation, and I had given Lord Allyngham my word that I would bring them in person.’

She looked down at them silently.

Jack cleared his throat.

‘He asked me to tell you…to be happy.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

She placed the ring on her right hand. Jack remembered it had been a tight fit for Lord Allyngham: it had been a struggle to remove it, but now the signet ring looked big and cumbersome on the lady’s dainty finger. He watched her open the locket and stare for a long time at the tiny portraits. At last she said, ‘I had this painted for Tony when we first married. He would not let me accompany him when he went off to war, so I thought he might like it…’ Her voice tailed off and she hunted for her handkerchief.

Jack sat down.

‘He was a very courageous soldier,’ he said quietly. ‘We fought together in the Peninsula: he saved my life at Talavera.’

She looked up and he saw that her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

‘You knew him well, Major Clifton?’

He shrugged.

‘As well as anyone, I think. We drank together, fought together—he spoke very fondly of you, madam, and of Allyngham. I think he missed his home.’

‘His letters to me were very brief; he mentioned few of his fellow officers by name.’

‘He kept very much to himself,’ replied Jack.

She nodded, twisting her hands together in her lap.

‘He was a very private man.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘Forgive me, Major Clifton. I know it is more than a year since Waterloo, but still…’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘How…how did he die?’

Jack hesitated. There was no easy way to explain.

‘Artillery fire,’ he said shortly. ‘A cannon ball hit him in the chest. It was very quick.’

Her blue eyes rebuked him.

‘How could that be? You said he had time to ask you to bring these things to me.’

He held her gaze steadily.

‘He was past any pain by then.’ He saw her eyes widen. The colour fled from her cheeks and she swayed slightly in her chair. He said quickly, ‘I beg your pardon, madam, I should not have told you—’

She put up her hand.

‘No, I wanted to know the truth.’ She closed the locket and placed it on the table beside her, then rose and held out her hand, dismissing him. ‘Thank you, Major. I am very grateful to you.’

Jack bowed over her fingers. He hesitated and found she was watching him, a question in her eyes.

‘Forgive me, ma’am, but…’ How the devil was he to phrase this?

‘What is it you wish to say to me, Major Clifton?’

‘I beg your pardon, my lady. Lord Allyngham having given me this commission, I feel an obligation to him. To his memory.’

‘What sort of obligation, Major?’

He shot a look at her from under his brows.

‘You know what people are saying, about you and Mortimer?’

She recoiled a little.

‘I neither know nor care,’ she retorted.

‘I would not have you dishonour your husband’s name, madam.’

Her eyes darkened angrily.

‘How dare you suggest I would do that!’

He frowned, annoyed by her disingenuous answer. Did she think him a fool?

‘But you will not deny that Mortimer is your lover—it is the talk of London!’

She glared at him, angry colour flooding her cheeks.

‘Oh, and gossip must always be true, I suppose!’

Her eyes darted fire and she moved forwards as if to engage with him. Jack could not look away: his gaze was locked with hers and he felt as if he was drowning in the blue depths of her eyes. She was so close that her perfume filled his head, suspending reason. A sudden, fierce desire coursed through him. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close and as her lips parted to object he captured them with his own. He felt her tremble in his arms, then she was still, her mouth yielding and compliant beneath the onslaught of his kiss. For a heady, dizzying instant he felt the connection. The shock of it sent him reeling with much the same effect as being too close to the big guns on the battlefield, but it lasted only for a moment. The next she was fighting against him and as sanity returned he let her go. She pushed away from him and brought her hand up to deal him a ringing slap across his cheek.

He flinched.