What he really wanted was for it to be as difficult for Alex to face returning to Norfolk as it was for him to face having her leave. That was it. He was going to miss her damnably—a most uncomfortable sensation, one he had never suffered before, and one he certainly did not wish to suffer alone. Since his childhood, when his father had died and Christopher had discovered just how selfish and shallow a person his mother was, he had never allowed himself to count on anyone except himself for companionship, assistance, amusement, or anything else. Even in the regiment, though he had been fond of many of his fellows and now missed the general camaraderie, he did not feel the absence of anyone in particular.
For the most part, people had looked to him for advice and leadership, but had been unable to give him those in return. It was not like that with Alex. Once he had thrown her into the company of lucrative gaming partners, she had handled everything on her own, and magnificently too. If anything, 214
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her escapade was her own adventure and she had allowed him to participate as an onlooker—one whose experience and judgment were respected, but an onlooker just the same. Now he wished to be more than just an onlooker. He wanted to share it all with her. For the first time in his life he had encountered someone as equal to every situation as he was himself, and all of a sudden, the prospect of taking things on with a partner was far more appealing than taking them on alone.
Revelations such as this would have been disquieting at any time, but to experience them now, toward a member of the opposite sex, to be uncertain as to whether the feeling was mutual, and just at the point when the entire affair was nearly at an end, was most disconcerting. No, it was more than disconcerting, it was upsetting, in the extreme, which was why Christopher was planning to escort Alex back to Norfolk no matter what objections she might raise. At least it did not all have to end quite so soon. He could postpone their inevitable farewell for a few more days. The major resumed his walk as passersby had begun to stare at him while he stood, transfixed, on the pavement. There was also one more reason that he wished to accompany Alex, but it was a reason that Christopher could not quite acknowledge even to himself. Alexandra de Montmorency was a very good-looking young man, but Lord Wrotham was longing to see what sort of a woman she was.
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Having made up his mind to escort Alex back to Norfolk, the major set about his plan with his usual dispatch. Once he had ascertained that he had accomplished all that he could for Wellington in London and that his place was now at the Duke's side, he set Radlett to packing his kit and readying things for their departure for the Continent. "I have a little ... uh ... family business ... to attend to here so I count on you to be my advance guard," he informed his man the next day.
"I feel certain that by the time I arrive in Brussels you will have scrounged up a place for us to lay our heads. You can also leave word of my imminent arrival at Wellington's headquarters."
Radlett nodded noncommittally, but his mind was working furiously. What sort
of family business
could the major have?
The batman could not remember when his master had ever done anything but seek to avoid all possible entanglements with his family. Directing a sharp glance at Wrotham, he detected the oddest air of self-consciousness about him, which was highly uncharacteristic. Radlett was intrigued. The major was a man who was sufficient unto himself, not given to involvements of any kind unless they occurred in the line of duty, but if an occasion such as that arose he had always been more than forthcoming to the person with whom he shared most of his existence—his batman. However, at this moment, his demeanor was that of a man bent on keeping a 216
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secret appointment or one involved in a clandestine affair of some sort.
More than a little curious, Radlett thought carefully back over their stay in London. Other than appointments with parliamentary officials and politicians likely to lend a sympathetic ear to Wellington's cause, the major had not had any intercourse with anyone, save for a few unwelcome encounters with the Dowager Countess of Claverdon and his friendship with the de Montmorencys, all of which were perfectly unexceptional.
If he didn't know his master so well, Radlett would have said that the major was acting as though a woman were involved, but the batman knew better than that. He himself had seen the Dowager Countess of Claverdon more times than he cared to remember, and she was enough to put a man like the major off the entire sex forever—not that his master wasn't as hot-blooded as the next man. Radlett had seen the looks cast in Lord Wrotham's direction, and the lures dangled out for him wherever they were. He had also seen the answering disgust in the major's eyes. No, Lord Wrotham was not one to become entangled with a female. A quick tumble with a woman who expected nothing more than honest payment for services rendered was more in the major's style.
Still, with instincts developed over long years in the army, Radlett couldn't dismiss his suspicions; in fact, he would have bet a considerable sum that a woman was at the heart of his master's odd behavior—and it wasn't the Dowager Countess 217
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of Claverdon. He resolved to watch his master more closely in search of further evidence to support his theory. Certainly, the rest of the day the major exhibited a restlessness characteristic of a man undecided about something. This was precisely the case, for Christopher, having made up his mind, was now faced with the difficult task of presenting it to Alex in a manner that would be acceptable to her—a most challenging proposition where someone as confoundedly independent and self-sufficient as Lady Alexandra was concerned.
A great deal of pacing about his chambers was required before Wrotham had screwed up his courage enough to put it to the touch, but at last, deciding that he was going to gain no further inspiration from delaying any longer, he strode around to the Clarendon. There he met Alex just as she was returning from an obviously successful shopping expedition, if the boxes in the arms of the footman she had commandeered were any indication. Observing the major's eyes taking in the name of a well-known Bond Street modiste on one of the boxes, she hastened to explain. "It is for Ally." The major grinned at the vehemence of her tone. "And of course you would not think of buying anything for yourself there," he murmured so softly that only the two of them could hear.
The green eyes widened in surprise. "No. Why should I?"
"Why indeed? Because you might just enjoy doing something for yourself for a change."
"Oh, but
I
have had this perfectly splendid adventure." 218
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Wrotham chuckled. He could not think of anyone who would consider undertaking a long, uncomfortable journey in disguise, being attacked by ruffians, and facing a duel a
splendid adventure,
and certainly no woman he had ever encountered would look at it as compensation for shopping on Bond Street—or any other street for that matter. By now they had reached Alex's rooms and, thanking the footman, she took the boxes, carefully piling them in a corner.
"I see that there are numerous others benefiting from your guilty pleasure at having this delightful escapade all to yourself," the major remarked, strolling over to the fireplace where he propped one shoulder against the mantel.
"Oh yes. I have bought a bonnet for Ally, a doll for Abigail, more toy soldiers for Andrew, ribbons for Mrs. Throckmorton and Bessie, and
An Essay Toward the Improvement of Some
of the Important Instruments of Surgery, and the Operations
in Which They Are Employed
by William Jardine for Doctor Padgett," she announced, pleased with herself. Christopher smiled as he resolved privately to find her something special that would always remind her of her visit to London. He stood silent, enjoying her anticipation of the pleasure her presents would bring and thinking rather wistfully that he could not remember when his mother or anyone else had thought of him in such a way. He wished more than ever to become acquainted with the rest of her family, to discover what such a life of warmth and affection was like, but how was he to begin to broach his plan?
Wrotham heaved himself off the mantel and strode over to 219
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the window, gazing at the passing scene while he hoped for something to come to him.
Alex glanced curiously at the major. The man seemed definitely ill-at-ease—a state so unnatural in the cool and selfpossessed Major Lord Wrotham that she could not help but wonder at it.
He looked up, saw her watching him, and flushed. "Alex," he began. Well, he had got that out at least, now what? "I am aware that ... er ... that is—" Dammit, man, he scolded himself, just blurt it out and be done with it. "I know you do not need it, I mean, that is, you made your way to London from Norfolk without incident, but I should like to escort you back."
He was right. She
was
offended. The green eyes were frosty, and she stiffened as she replied, "That is considerate of you, sir, but I am not in the slightest need of your assistance or protection."
Christopher's heart sank. He had gone about it all wrong, but he would not give up. He wanted this too badly. "I
know
that." Seeing the anger kindling in her eyes, he hurried on. "I was not offering my protection or assistance, merely my company. Long journeys can be very tedious, you know."
"Oh." Now it was Alex's turn to be at a loss. At least he did not think she was some helpless female, but she could not let him ride all that way with her. Why, whatever would people think?
"And you cannot pull propriety on me now. It won't fadge. Traveling alone with a man is the merest nothing when compared to gambling with them night after night at White's." 220
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It was a lucky shot for Alex had been about to do just that. Flustered, she looked up to find him smiling at her in a way that did nothing to dispel her confusion—quite the contrary. The dark blue eyes fixed on her so intently seemed to see right into her, to know how much she longed for him to accompany her, to make their friendship last a little bit longer, and yet how she was also made most dreadfully uncomfortable by that longing. Strangely, the smile on his lips was intimate, conspiratorial, as if he too shared in her confused emotions.
Unable to tear her eyes away from his, Alex stood helplessly for some minutes, desperately cudgeling her brains for some excuse. Nothing came. At last she was forced to acknowledge this. "Very well. If you truly wish to, though it means you will be faced with the tedious return journey yourself."
Christopher's grin widened. He had won—not that someone like Alex would actually admit defeat. "I shall be happy to be so bored. I suspect that in a few weeks I shall be looking back with longing at my life's very dullest moments. After my time in London, the journey will give me time to collect my thoughts and gather my wits for the next challenge."
Alex was suddenly somber. For a moment she had forgotten that he too, along with Tony, would be throwing himself into the impending fray with Napoleon. It was surprising how much she disliked that thought. However, whether it was a war in Europe or seeking his fortune in some 221
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other part of the globe, it did not much matter, given the likelihood of her ever laying eyes on him again. The future stretching before her, empty of the companionship they had shared over the past few weeks, seemed desolate indeed. What harm could it do to her to share a few more precious days with him? None, she told herself stoutly.
Recovering from her momentary uncertainty, Alex smiled.
"The question of whether gambling at White's dressed as a man or journeying unchaperoned with a man is a moot one where
my
reputation is concerned. I haven't one." A wicked gleam stole into her eyes. "Or at least not the sort of one most females are desirous of protecting."
"There's my girl." Christopher laid an oddly comforting hand on her shoulder. "Believe me, you will see more of life this way." He could not help chuckling at the expectant look his words brought to her face. "Equal to any challenge, are you not? You must have been the despair of your nursemaids."
Alex nodded, her eyes dancing. "However, the coachmen and the stable boys were inordinately proud of me." The major gave a shout of laughter. "And no doubt, to a man, they would lay down their lives for you. I can see I shall have some explaining to do to your coachman now."
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If Christopher worried over the reaction of this devoted retainer, he need not have. Ned Coachman, subjecting the major to one long, appraising look when his approval of Wrotham's escort was requested, heaved a private sigh of relief and murmured to himself, a gentleman for Lady Alex at last. He thanked Providence, to whom he had long since given up praying, for providing a man who would be the equal to his mistress and who would look after her.
In fact, in Ned's highly critical opinion. Major Lord Wrotham was a gentleman who was more than equal to the task. From the bright blue eyes that looked straight at you, sizing you up in an instant, to the broad shoulders, athletic figure, and proud bearing, one could see that this was a man used to handling every situation, even the most perilous ones—a man accustomed to command. If he had been asked to dream up someone for Lady Alex, Ned admitted humbly to his Maker, he could not have done a better job himself, though it would never do to let on.