Promise Me Heaven (40 page)

“No. I mean, ’tisn’t necessary. I will go behind the screen.”

Wonderful test of my self-restraint
, mused Thomas,
to be privy to a view of Cat’s charms under the interested gaze of the dragon-like Annette
. The Frenchwoman regarded him suspiciously, as though he were some half-tamed beast about to launch himself at her mistress.
She may well be right
.

“Thomas,” Cat called from behind the screen, “a footman brought up a note for you. It’s on the mantel.”

He picked up the envelope, glad of something to distract him from Cat’s dishabille or even imagining her dishabille. He scanned the letter before crumpling it in his fist.

Damn!
He must learn to avoid Brighton in the future. Each time he was in residence, Seward managed to run him to ground. The note was a request for a meeting.

He considered denying the colonel before remembering that it was Seward’s timely intervention that had led Thomas to Cat in Paris. Thomas always paid his debts. Besides, Giles Dalton was apparently going to tag along on the interview.

“Cat, I have some business to attend to this afternoon.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you might take Annette and find a way to amuse yourself? The circulating library, Fisher’s, is reputed to be well stocked.”

Cat’s head peeped out from the side of the elaborately carved screen. Her face was puzzled. “Yes, of course, Thomas. I shall spend my luncheon with Marcus. He leaves for Bellingcourt this afternoon.”

“Good. You’ll have a pleasant time without me. I doubt your brother will ever forgive me the irregularity of our wedding.”

“I begin to fear you are right.” Cat emerged from behind the screen in a fashionable gown. Its low, square neck was unadorned except for the creamy white swells of her bosom.

Control
, Thomas abjured himself sternly, offering her his arm and a polite smile. “But how shall we spend the morning?”

Chapter 32

S
eward and Strand arrived just before noon, well ahead of their proposed schedule. Giles looked tired. Seward, slender and unbending, appeared as he always did, remote and inhuman.

Strand stepped forward, extending his hand. “My congratulations on your marriage, Thomas.”

A wry smile tilted one corner of Thomas’s mouth. “Thank you, Giles.”

Seward only nodded, keeping the distance that had always been between him and Thomas a physical one. “I would like to add my sentiments to those of Lord Strand.”

Thomas looked from one to the other. Both men seemed uneasy. Strand shifted on his feet. Seward became, if possible, even more rigidly upright.

“I suspect congratulations are not the only reason for your visit.” He motioned the two men to take seats before the table. It was still littered with the leavings of his morning tea. Cat’s reticule lay abandoned on the floor. He smiled at this physical reminder of her reality in his life.

“No. I wish it were.”

“Napoleon is on the march,” Seward said without preamble. “Lord Strand gathered some information before leaving France that suggested Napoleon would be satisfied to retake Paris. That is why he was able to return to England so quickly. We thought the situation would remain static for a while.

“But now things have changed. We have learned that Napoleon is seeking to use the present discontent amongst the allies to his advantage and gather a force while Wellington is in Brussels.”

“And what has this to do with me?”

“The men we will be able to muster to meet this challenge are not seasoned veterans. Our troops in France are merely ceremonial ones. Even the allied forces are green, the soldiers who fought in the Peninsula having disbanded with Napoleon’s removal to Elba.”

Thomas nodded without saying a word.

“We have few qualified men available on such short notice. We need experienced campaigners to command the men,” Seward said.

“You must be thankful to have Strand here,” Thomas said sardonically.

“Pretty damn quick to throw me to the wolves, aren’t you, Thomas?”

“Not as quick as you, apparently,” Thomas replied obliquely and a dusky-hued color flooded Strand’s clear complexion.

Seward cleared his throat. “Enlisting you was my idea, Thomas. I asked Strand the favor of using whatever influence he might have.”

“I believe Wellington might be able to rout a few Frenchmen without my aid,” Thomas said.

“That’s just it, Thomas,” said Strand. “They are not ‘a few Frenchmen.’ Reports come in daily that Napoleon is mustering a large force. The Royalist Fifth vacillated all of twenty minutes before swearing renewed allegiance to him at Grenoble.”

“Damn, you say!”

“Lord Strand is correct,” said the colonel. “Our need for leaders is pressing. In your own way, you command as much respect amongst the enlisted men under you as Wellington.”

“Being part and parcel of their untitled ranks?”

“As you say,” Seward agreed smoothly. “We might spend hours sitting here evaluating the merits of your reinstatement as captain. But you already know all the reasons you should accept. It only remains to be seen if you will.”

There was a long moment of silence. Duty, clinging jade that she was, would not be gainsaid. Thomas was not vain enough to judge himself more qualified to lead than others. He assumed he was merely one of the few
left
to lead. Added to which, he was all too familiar with Napoleon’s tactics and the feints, shifts, and thrusts of his military campaigns. If Thomas did not go, he would certainly be responsible for avoidable deaths.

How could he hope to win Cat’s love if he had no respect for himself? But to leave her! To make the grim wager he would return to her unscathed, whole of limb and mind?

What choice did he have? If he stayed, he would be consigned to offer Cat a pitiful excuse for a man. “Yes.”

The two men were too well bred to be visibly pleased, but there was a lessening of tension in their stances.

“You might try to curb your rather indelicate and offensive relief,” Thomas said.

“How will you tell Cat?” Strand asked.

“I shall lay the fault at your door, Strand.”

Seward cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the two friends. “I must leave forthwith for the Continent. I wish to express my recognition of the sacrifice you make on behalf of your country, Montrose.”

It was clearly a difficult thing for Seward to say, a tentative step toward breaching the chasm between them. Thomas found himself nodding, not yet willing to embrace the overture, but not totally discounting it.

“I am hoping to learn to accept that the worth of a man is not predestined by his social circumstances. My own included. Your servant, Montrose, Lord Strand.” Seward made a sharply correct bow and left.

“The colonel had best watch these suspicious tendencies toward introspection,” murmured Thomas, “or he might yet discover he’s human.”

“You might be misjudging him, Thomas,” Giles said.

“Misjudging him? He is so often already there, ahead of us all, misjudging others. Though honesty compels me to admit, he had my measure.”

“He just knew what salt to use in what wound.”

Thomas laughed. “Strand, your steadfastness is one of your few truly sterling qualities.”

“And
you
have always had a conceited view of your own shortcomings.”

“No,” said Thomas, suddenly quieting. “I know myself well. As does the colonel. He had the right of it, Strand. All his speculation was founded on fact. I did enter his service for the most repellent of reasons. I was bored.”

“You were of service to your country, Thomas.”

“I was of service to myself. I know there were men who were willing to tolerate the excesses, the subterfuge, for a piece of potentially pertinent information. These men were motivated by patriotism, loyalty, and conviction… I was not one of their number.

“But my greatest sin was taking so long to appreciate that fact. Even an addiction would be preferable to what motivated me. For I was compelled simply by the thrill of it. When I finally awoke to what I had become it was too late to get out. Too much depended on my continued services. On my usefulness.

“God!” swore Thomas. “How I grew to loathe it! The dirty convenience of it. The necessary evil. How many did I cajole, threaten, browbeat, seduce, into betraying themselves and their country? How many people believed my lies?” he asked, knowing there would be no answer.

“It’s an occupation that licks away at a man’s self-respect, Strand, until one’s very soul becomes a wound abraded by the rough tongue of deceit.” Recalling himself, Thomas smiled apologetically. “Forgive my histrionics. I fear I judged Seward too harshly. If he is discovering his humanity, it is no less than I hope for myself. Can that be so bad?”

Strand shrugged. “Seward has spent thirty years trying to disprove the fact that he is a man much like other men, given to the same weaknesses, bigotries, and failings. It must be deuced uncomfortable to find one has a heart after so many years of failing to recognize it.”

Thomas shot a sharp look at Strand.

“You needn’t be concerned, Thomas. I shall not pant after your wife, trying to lure her behind the potted ferns to steal a kiss.”

“It doesn’t worry me in the least, Giles.”

“My! You have an overblown notion of my integrity. I don’t know if I would be so trusting were the roles reversed.” There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in Strand’s well-modulated tones.

Thomas smiled. “First, while I
do
trust you, it is only so far as not to make an ass of yourself. It is Cat who is incapable of nefarious activity. You would find yourself fondling the fern and nothing more. Second, if by some chance the roles were reversed, I would not hesitate to pursue Cat relentlessly, everywhere and at all times.

“She doesn’t love you, you see.” Thomas’s tone was not unkind. “And the barest possibility that she might come to love me would be impetus enough to send me in pursuit of her, regardless of any sanctions state or church or society has devised.”

He knew that what he said hurt Strand, but in this, even with Strand, he needed to make himself absolutely clear. There was no force in the world capable of making Thomas quit his claim on Cat.

The sound of male voices droning from beyond the door leading to Thomas’s rooms alerted Cat to the fact that his mysterious meeting was being conducted in his room.
Ah well
, she thought,
I’ll just find my reticule and be off before they even know I’m here.

She rummaged silently amongst her things, unable to discover the misplaced beaded bag. It wasn’t beneath her fans or in the drawers. She had last seen it breakfasting in Thomas’s room. Drat! Well, she would just have to breach the walls of the masculine sanctum and apologize. She could not very well hie herself off to a café without a penny to her name. She moved to the door.

“And now you would leave her?” It was Giles Dalton’s voice.

“How can I not? How can I not go when to stay would only breed the utmost contempt, if not in Cat then in myself?”

The words froze Cat’s hand in the act of reaching for the handle, tolling a death knell. Her heart hammered upward in her throat.
Thomas was leaving?
She turned as if in a trance and began retracing her steps.