Simply Voracious (23 page)

Con forced a smile. “We’re quite pathetic, aren’t we?”

Paul smiled back. “Well, I am. You have always been one of my heroes.”

“I think you are the one who has been quite heroic, my friend. I’m not sure I would’ve had the strength to push you away.” He sighed. “It was easier when I wondered if you had married to consolidate your position with the Haymore family.”

Paul held his gaze. “That’s what most people think, but I wanted you to know the truth.” He swallowed hard. “I wanted to be as honest with you as I am with Lucky.”

Con took a deep breath. “We should go. I think it might snow tonight, and I need to get my horses back.”

Paul held open the door. “Absolutely.”

Lucky glanced at Emily, who was enjoying her second cup of tea, and then up at the clock. For some reason she felt ill at ease.

“I wonder what has happened to Paul and the lieutenant colonel?”

Emily gave her a sideways glance. “They probably had a lot to talk about.”

“I suppose that is true. They are both from the same regiment, after all, and I know how Papa and his friends like to reminisce.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps the matter turned out to be more complicated than Paul thought.”

“That might well be true,” Emily agreed and started to rise from her chair. “Do you want me to go and look for them?”

“No, it’s all right. I’ll go myself.”

Emily frowned. “Perhaps I had better . . .”

Lucky stared at her. “What are you worried about? Do you think the lieutenant colonel has left without you?” She continued on to the door and opened it slightly, just in time to see Constantine Delinsky and her husband emerge from one of the unused rooms close to the drawing room. She inadvertently took a step back and pulled the bell for the servants.

“I see them coming up the stairs now. I wonder if I should order some fresh tea?”

She hurried back to her seat, picked up her sewing, and tried to appear as though she hadn’t moved an inch or worried at all. She smiled as Paul came through the door and approached her.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I kept Delinsky occupied for far longer than I intended.”

“It is of no matter,” Lucky said graciously. “Would you like some more tea? I have just rung for the butler.”

Lieutenant Colonel Delinsky bowed. “I apologize, my lady, but I really need to take Miss Ross safely home before the weather becomes even worse. I believe it might snow tonight.”

“Then of course you must be off.” She rose from her seat and held out her hand. “Please come and see us again soon. You are welcome at any time.”

“Thank you, my lady St. Clare.” He kissed her fingers. “Are you ready, Miss Ross?”

“Indeed I am.” Emily walked over and hugged Lucky hard. “It will all work out in the end, I swear it,” she whispered. “And I will come and see you on Friday.”

Lucky stayed behind as Paul escorted their visitors down the stairs, and then sank back into her chair. She frowned down at her hands in her lap and tried to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order. There was obviously some tension between Paul and his commanding officer, but what was the cause? Constantine Delinsky seemed to be a good man; in truth, she liked him excessively.

“Lucky?” She looked up to find Paul standing in front of her. “Are you going upstairs to change for dinner?”

“Yes, I suppose I should.” She groaned. “I am such a terrible hostess. It is so late we should have asked them to stay for dinner. But it feels awkward asking them when it is still my mother’s house.”

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and they walked together up another flight of stairs to their bedroom suite.

“Mr. Walker suggested we rent or buy a house of our own. What do you think of the idea?”

She considered it as they traversed the corridor to their rooms. “I’ve never lived without my parents before. It would be strange at first, but it would be nice to be able to choose my own furniture and make all the decisions as to what we should eat.”

“Then I’ll ask Mr. Walker to find us some houses to look at. I must admit I’d rather we had our own home.” Paul hesitated. “I’ve never really had one before. I’ve always lived with other people.”

He paused at her door and let go of her hand. “May I come in with you for a moment?”

“Of course. I’ll ring for Milly when we’re done.”

She wandered over to her dressing table and sat down, eager to find something to do to ease her nervousness. Had Paul seen Mr. Taylor talk to her at the ball the previous night? If he had, why hadn’t he mentioned it already? Or had the lieutenant colonel seen her and passed the information on to his friend? Perhaps that explained why they had spent so much time together earlier.

“Lucky . . .” Paul said and then he stopped again. “I know we agreed to be honest with each other, but there is something I didn’t tell you before we married.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

He sat down on the chaise longue at the bottom of her bed, his gaze directed downward to his dirty boots. “Lieutenant Colonel Delinsky and I were lovers.”

“Oh.”

He looked up. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Well, it certainly explains why you seem so ill at ease with each other.” It also might explain why they had disappeared into an empty room together, but she really didn’t want to think about that.

Paul ran a hand through his blond hair. “He is a good and honorable man, and I disappointed him.”

“By marrying me?”

“No, not at all. He understands why I did that, and he has nothing but respect for you.”

“Then why are you telling me this? Do you think he plans to win you back?”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Paul looked away from her again. “It’s just that I wanted you to know the truth.”

“Did the lieutenant colonel tell you he found me in the gardens that night and made certain I got home safely?”

She wasn’t sure why, but the thought that Constantine Delinsky had broken his word to her and told Paul made everything worse.

“No, he didn’t mention it, but Ambrose inadvertently did.” He sighed. “I’m glad it was Con who helped you. He is just the sort of man you can trust.”

“He was the perfect gentleman.”

He raised his gaze to meet hers. “You approve of him, then?”

Lucky realized her fingernails were digging into her skin. “I have already told you, Paul. If you wish to take a lover, you should do so.”

He shot to his feet. “Lucky, do you ever listen to a damned word I say? I told you I would not take a lover.”

She stood, too, her hands clenched at her sides. “And I told you to be honest with me.”

“Which I have been.” He flung the words at her over his shoulder as he paced. “Which is why I told you about Con!”

“
After
we were married, and you knew you had me safe and secure!”

“What the devil is that supposed to mean?” Paul demanded.

She held his gaze. “I know you, Paul. You didn’t mention Constantine Delinsky because you care for him.”

He swallowed. “You knew I liked men. I took you to the pleasure house. I showed you exactly who I am.”

“No, you showed me that you like to have sex with anonymous people. You
knew
that if I thought you were in love again, I’d never agree to marry you whatever my circumstances.”

His expression stilled. “And mayhap I still think I made the right decision. We are married now, and that is the end of it.”

“And be damned to what you really want?”

“That isn’t the point.”

Lucky opened her mouth to protest and was interrupted by a knock on the door. Before Paul could issue a denial, Lucky pushed past him and opened the door.

“Come in, Milly. My husband is just leaving.”

Milly looked from her to Paul, her expression worried. “I just came to deliver this note to you, my lady. You can ring for me to help you dress later.”

“It’s all right, Milly. My wife is correct. I am going,” Paul said.

Lucky waited until he stalked out of the room and returned to sit at her dressing table, the note clenched in her hand.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Milly inquired.

“I’m fine, Milly,” Lucky said to her reflection, and saw Paul’s anger reflected in her own eyes. “I don’t think I’ll bother to dress for dinner after all. I have a headache. Please send my apologies to my parents.”

Milly loosened the back of Lucky’s dress and unlaced her corset. “Do you want me to brush out your hair, then, my lady? That can sometimes help with a headache.”

“It’s all right, Milly. I think I’ll do it myself. It helps me think. You can retire for the night.”

“If you are sure, my lady. I’ll send up some supper for you on a tray and leave your nightgown to warm by the fire.”

“Thank you.” Lucky dredged up another smile. “Good night, Milly.”

“Good night, my lady, and don’t you worry about the lieutenant. Whatever he did, I’m sure he’ll be sorry enough in the morning.”

Lucky put her elbows on the dressing table and buried her face in her hands. She wanted to cry, the tears crowded in her throat, her eyes burning, but somehow she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to think about Paul and Constantine Delinsky being lovers. Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be Delinsky? The man who had guessed what had happened to her, and hadn’t taken advantage of her plight or judged her in any way.

She glanced down at the letter in her hand and read the return address. It seemed that Mr. Taylor from the bank on Cornhill had replied to her about arranging a meeting with Jeremy. God, she wanted to see Jeremy so badly, wanted to borrow Paul’s pistol and shoot him herself.

She ripped open the covering sheet, and then frowned at the all-too-familiar handwriting. Why was Jeremy writing to her again? Was it another demand for money? She opened the letter with shaking hands and scanned the sparse sentences. Then she had to read it again. Jeremy was relinquishing all claims to her affection, and would not be troubling her again.

She dropped the letter on to her dressing table and stared at it. The expected rush of relief didn’t come. What in God’s name had happened for him to have such a dramatic change of heart? Or was he simply playing with her? She shook her head as her tears finally started to fall.

18

“I
have the morning papers and your mail, sir.”

Gregor placed the paper at Constantine’s elbow and propped up the mail against the coffeepot.

“Thank you, Gregor.”

Con picked up the pile of envelopes and sifted through them. There was a bill from the cobbler, and one from his tailor, both of which were expected. There was also the usual clutch of invitations, which he would consider later. A letter in an unknown feminine hand caught his attention and he opened that one first.

It was a note from Lady Lucinda St. Clare asking him for dinner on the following night. He stared at her neat handwriting and wondered if Paul had told her about their affair. He’d half expected her to cut all communications with him rather than invite him to dinner. Maybe she was as unusual and open-minded as Paul implied. He liked to think that was true, and that his friend had found happiness.

He looked up as Gregor returned with more toast. “Will you make sure that my dress uniform is presentable? I wish to wear it tomorrow night.”

Gregor snorted. “It is always presentable,
podpolkovnik,
because I keep it so.”

“Of course, Gregor.”

There was also a long overdue letter from his mother in Russia. Con took a piece of toast and rose from the table, bringing his coffee with him. He picked up his mail and took everything across to the small desk where he dealt with his correspondence.

His first task was to write an acceptance note to Lady Lucinda, and then decide which social events he wished to attend. At present, his military duties were almost non-existent, seeing as most of his regiment was overseas. He’d been asked to stay at home and liaise with the war office and the Duke of Wellington’s staff. The duke encouraged his officers to socialize, so Con’s presence at so many events wouldn’t be remarked upon and would actually be expected.

He opened his mother’s letter with some trepidation. Despite his remarks to Miss Ross about how much he depended on his mother, he sometimes found her rather overwhelming. She struggled with their reduced circumstances and complained constantly about the things she could no longer afford and the lack of convivial society. In truth, compared with the majority of her countrymen, she had escaped relatively unscathed. But she seemed unable to contemplate that reality, and Con had given up trying to explain it to her.

He sighed and settled down to read her list of complaints, only rousing to make the occasional note or thank Gregor for replacing his coffee. She wanted him to come home and take over the task of running the estates, and he had no wish to do so. Even the thought of returning to his homeland made him want to puke. As an eighteen-year-old soldier retreating before Napoléon’s army, he’d seen such horrors that he still had nightmares.

With a groan he thrust those images away, knowing he’d be facing them in his dreams later. He composed a long reply to his mother, recommending she rely on his cousin Michael, his land agent, for advice, and not to worry so much about him. In his soul he knew he’d have to return to Russia at some point, but not quite yet. Even as he finished his letter, he started another one to Michael, a good, honest soul who would make sure all Con’s requests were carried out.

He sat back and stretched, guilt clouding his senses. His mother was right. He was a neglectful landlord and an undutiful son who lived off the income of an estate he never visited. There was no escaping that. But he’d learned to his cost during the war that he had to live his life as he thought fit. At least he was almost done with his correspondence for the day and, weather permitting, could take one of his horses out for a ride in the park.

There was a knock on his door, and Gregor appeared again.

“There is a gentleman to see you, sir, a Major Thomas Wesley. Shall I admit him?”

“Of course, Gregor.”

Con rose to his feet and put on his discarded coat, which Gregor held out to him. When Thomas appeared, Con walked forward to shake his hand.