Page 28

W illiam led Miss Lockhart from the center of the room and reluctantly released her hand.

He would gladly have danced another set with her.

But he would not have her reputation tarnished.

The last thing she would want was a rumor that they were engaged.

The question was, would he mind all that much?

What a dolt he had been! Pining after Ellena as if she were the only woman in the world. Showing gross misjudgment in his conduct to secure her hand. Hindsight was a brutal teacher.

He looked across the room to where she stood in animated conversation with her husband. They were a good match after all. He was amazed to find himself happy for her. These were the only feelings that remained for her. That, and the lingering shame of his actions toward her.

Whenever he was around Miss Lockhart, it was as if a mist cleared from his mind.

She spoke boldly, as Ellena—Lady Howell—had done, but it was matched with a clear sense of self.

If he had known Lady Howell’s mind as well as he thought he now understood Miss Lockhart’s, he would never have… Well, it was all in the past now.

To think he might have made a sensible match with the vicar’s daughter.

But he had not given the possibility a fair chance.

His thoughts had turned constantly to Lady Howell and his motives had all been selfish.

He could see now the potential in a future with Miss Lockhart.

Except… he could not think what he had to offer.

Yes, he had apologized. And yes, he had felt a change within himself.

Or at least, the first steps toward it. But he had no business seeking her affections until he could be sure he deserved her.

William contemplated the crowded room. Before the night was done, Miss Lockhart would be a favorite. He had already lost his chance. There would not be time for another. Help her find a match, indeed! What had he been thinking?

Hmm, he knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Any excuse to spend more time with her. Perhaps he might even steer her away from other candidates…

No! He must not follow this way of thinking! That was the sort of madness that had quite run away with him before.

This great love he wanted—it must be a thing of wonder. Not tainted with manipulation and raw desire. It should burn a lifetime, slow and steady, not burst into unmanageable flames.

A smile formed despite his self-chastisement. Even a slow and steady fire could grow hot. And Miss Lockhart ignited just such vigor within him. For her rare blend of blunt honesty and devoted passion, he would give the world. And, in turn, receive it.

“I say, Cole, you don’t mind if I join you?”

Captain Larson came striding up to the small gathering where William stood.

They all lifted their eyes to the newcomer, whose bearing was every inch that of a meticulously disciplined officer.

William could see no harm in an introduction.

The captain was an honorable man. A career officer, like himself—or, at least, as William hoped to be. And a gentleman in every sense.

“It seems,” explained Larson, “I have found myself without a dance partner for this round and could use some intelligent conversation to while away the next half hour.”

“I’m grateful you think I might have it to offer, sir.

” William turned to the rest of the group.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, James and Charlotte, Miss Lockhart, may I introduce Captain Larson? He is the officer to whom I report, and gladly. Captain Larson, this is Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Sinclair; her sister, Miss Verity Lockhart; and Mr. and Mrs. James Trenton. The latter is my sister.”

Captain Larson made a stiff bow when introduced, smartly clicking his heels together. He followed with a nod as each of the rest of the party was named. But before the captain could say a word to any of them, he was jostled roughly from behind.

“Sorry there, Cap’n, old boy,” slurred the uniformed fellow.

“Didn’t see you there. Was just making my way to a game of Vingt-et-un with the lads, but I seem to have stumbled over someone’s skirt.

” He looked back at the offending article.

“‘Don’t how the lady hopes to dance in it if it’s draped all over the floor.

Oh, hello, Cole.” These last three words were added with decidedly less joviality, though the man quickly recovered his mood when he saw Miss Lockhart.

“I say, aren’t you going to introduce us? ”

William looked the tall, lean, scruffy-haired fellow up and down. “I hardly think the lady would welcome an introduction from someone in your condition, Foyle.”

“My ‘condition’?” Foyle scowled in a rather cross-eyed manner. “My condition is that I am a lieutenant in His Majesty’s army and a baron’s son. You would do well to remember that, Cole.”

“Nevertheless, Lieutenant Foyle,” Captain Larson added sternly, “you do not represent either of those roles in particularly good light at present. Perhaps, if you ate something substantial to balance the drink, your common sense would return to you. An introduction may be made when you could do it justice.”

Lieutenant Foyle ignored them both and turned a rather unfocused eye to Miss Lockhart. “I, madam,” he began, his hand to his breast, his knees attempting to hold him upright, “am Lieutenant Richard Foyle, at your service. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

Miss Lockhart, quite understandably, looked horrified.

She had drawn back into herself as though attempting to create distance between this foul man and her person.

Even her face was tilted away and her eyes roved up and down in clear disbelief that such a fellow was allowed to persist in his behavior.

She turned to her sister, who, in turn, appealed to her husband.

Mr. Sinclair stepped forward. In all the years William had known him, Sinclair had not been a man who often raised his voice, nor did he do so now.

Instead, he leaned in so that the inebriated fellow could hear him say quietly, “You will address no one but me. I am Daniel Sinclair, and you, sir, are not welcome in the presence of these ladies, nor any lady, for that matter. Now, move on, before I report your scandalous behavior to our host.”

Foyle glared at him, shifting his disdain to each of the men in turn. “My father will hear of this,” he sneered, pointing a finger at the end of an unstably-waving arm. “You are just a bunch of nobodies. I”—he poked Mr. Sinclair in the chest—“am the son of a lord.”

“Then behave like one, damn you, Foyle,” snapped Larson.

“I do not think you would like your father to hear of this as much as you say you do, Lieutenant Foyle.” James smiled grimly. “But, as cousin to the Viscountess Howell, I could ensure that he does.” The smile stayed. The threat hung in the air.

Foyle flung his arm harmlessly to his side.

“I was just off to play a game of cards anyway. Don’t need you lot to get in my way.

” He stopped and gave Miss Lockhart a lecherous grin.

“I’ll get your name yet. So don’t you forget mine.

” Then he stumbled on toward the card room, bumping into guests and swearing under his breath.

A stunned silence hung in the air.

“I can only apologize unreservedly for Lieutenant Foyle’s shameful behavior,” said Captain Larson.

“He was assigned to our company just two weeks ago. I have not had enough time to whip him into shape. And his father has the unfortunate habit of whitewashing his actions with his name and money. It is most regrettable.”

“You are not to blame, sir,” Mr. Sinclair countered.

“While you may not have been long exposed to Foyle’s particular brand of debauchery, Munro’s society has known it for too many years.

Since the lad was old enough to drink, gamble, and philander, he has done so.

I am not entirely certain his father even disapproves.

They are of the feudalistic nobility who believe they are en titled rather than merely titled .

I’m afraid you will have your hands full with that one. ”

“While he is wearing the uniform, I am his superior officer,” Captain Larson insisted. “It makes no difference who his father is.”

Mr. Sinclair shook his head sadly. “Ah, I wish it were as simple as that. However, you have our full support here this evening, sir.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “As for the battlefield, I would not trust him to have your back. Do have a care, Captain Larson. The man has no scruples.”

William did not care about battles and scruples.

He had seen the fear in Miss Lockhart’s eyes when Foyle had aimed his parting shot at her.

She had stood, silent and motionless, her rigid limbs and frozen gaze the only clue that she was terrified beyond reason.

Now that the perpetrator had left, she was trembling, her grip on her fan fierce, her gaze still locked before her.

“Are you all right, Miss Lockhart?” he asked, for what else could he say?

He had no claim on her by right of family or marriage.

He could not take her in his arms and comfort her with his presence, whispering reassurances into her ear until she leaned against him and released her fears to him.

“Perhaps you should sit down. I could bring you something to drink.”

“That’s a good idea, Lieutenant Cole,” said Mrs. Sinclair. “Something strong, if you don’t mind. I think she’s had rather a shock.” She guided her sister to a nearby chair, the small group forming a protective half-circle before her.