Speak Its Name: A Trilogy (21 page)

I frowned at him. “Kindly pretend that I have little interest in the peerage, dear Charles, and am completely ignorant of the workings of the aristocracy.”

“You do not stretch me, dear Minimus. But actually you are forgiven, and you have been busy. It’s a very rare case. Only happened once to my knowledge before. Henrietta of Marlborough inherited her father’s Dukedom and became the Second Duchess of Marlborough. And so it is with your filly. She inherits the title. Has done already, actually. Unlike Henrietta, she doesn’t take the title herself of course, but... If you marry...”

“When,” interrupted Edward.

“Forgive me, of course,” Charles continued with exquisite mock manners. “
When
you marry her...”

“I’ll be a Count?” I felt myself go pale.

“Of course not, idiot boy,” Edward said.

“But your son...”

“Who no doubt will inherit the pug-face of his father.”

“Will be a Count...”

“And God have mercy on the Peers of England,” laughed Edward.

“And so say all of us,” agreed Charles. He rejoined the ladies, leaving me as stunned as the netted and landed fish he considered I was.

This, then, I surmised, was the reason for Heyward’s antagonism. He must have thought that I knew—that I was after the shy girl with no fortune merely for the title. It was more galling for the fact that it was true. I caught Edward by the arm as he turned away.

“What do you know of her cousin?”

“Heyward?” Edward frowned. “Odd fish. Comes to the club but gets in his cups too often. The old lady and the young are both devoted to him, by all accounts. No accounting for taste—but then they
are
considering you for a husband. I’ve heard stories about young Heyward. Stories I’d rather not believe. I’d stay clear of him, if you’ll take my advice. Although, I’ve heard that when it comes to Miss Pelham, Heyward’s word is the one that matters.”

“Her grandfather?”

“You would think that would be the case, wouldn’t you? But for some reason, it’s young Heyward that holds the power there.”

The rest of the evening was more enjoyable, I am pleased to say, although I had plenty to ruminate upon; I revenged myself on my brothers by fleecing their pockets at whist, and we parted amicably enough, even if they cast me meaningful looks over father’s shoulder as they said their goodbyes.

~

The next morning was crisp and cool and the wind was bitter. We bundled up against the cold and I for one was grateful for the stone warmers which, placed on the seats and under our boots, managed to alleviate a little of the chill. I had spent too many years in warmer climes; these freezing winds bit deep. I had suggested going by Post coach; it would be days faster, and the company would at least keep us warm, but my father would not hear of it. In this way then we crawled the distance, and arrived, eventually, more sick of each other’s company than I can bear to express.

Our rooms were better than I had stayed in before in Bath; and I took full advantage of the staff on hand, getting myself clean and sleeping from the afternoon of our arrival until the next morning, after which I felt human again.

The interminable Bath routine was adopted; we paddled, we bathed. We drank the vile waters. We lunched in the Pump Rooms. We visited in the afternoons. We were seen. I was bored. There were many officers in the town, as was usual, but after one too many evenings redrawing the lines at Waterloo and dissecting every single one of Wellington’s decisions, I found that I was actually looking forward to the Pelhams’ arrival. It might be pleasant for once to discuss more than the recent past. I had kept away from the dancing in the evenings, not only because, as an eligible man with no obvious disfigurements, the Master of Ceremonies would have spread me thin around the young and not-so-young, but also that my father would have been infuriated to see my attention drawn to anyone else. He seemed, from his daily admonishments to me to keep away from temptation (which, it seemed, did not include cards or wine) to consider me some Lothario who would lay waste to the virgin hordes and do myself out of the opportunity he was planning. This surprised me, for I had never shown the slightest talent for seduction, and indeed had only lain with two women, both Spanish and both ruinously expensive and each a vacuous, damp, disappointment. However, I did not disabuse his opinion of me. I yearned for some reputation, however untrue.

After a week, a card arrived by messenger to inform us that the Pelhams had settled in and that we might visit that afternoon. All our normal routine was cancelled, visits postponed, the lesser mortals we had planned to visit let down. My father himself supervised the brushing and polishing of my uniform until I feared the fabric would rend under his valet’s enthusiastic hands. Thus shining and ready for the slaughter, I was led into the rooms that Lady Pelham had engaged (smaller than ours, my father noted with some delight.) We were ushered into the drawing room to wait, and suddenly my father remembered he had left his glass in the carriage and dashed out to find a footman, leaving me alone.

I was not in that happy state for long, however, and I had not entirely expected to be. My father’s tact is negligible and I was expecting Miss Pelham to be ushered in under some pretext or other. My mouth was dry, and I paced the room feeling caged and helpless. It was of course too late for me to show my heels, the time for showing filial rebellion had been a long time ago and long past. To refuse to do my duty now would only lead to anger and a swift eviction from my father’s favour. That I could not manage on my half-pay was plain, but follow my father’s wishes in this matter would mean a large settlement, and consequent freedom: or, at the very least, a different order of captivity.

The door opened and I stood pacing and stood at ease, with what I hoped was a not unattractive expression of interest on my face.

“It’s all right, Chaloner,” said Heyward as the door closed behind him, “you don’t need waste the faux-lover on me.” He limped across the room and sat down, waving for me to do the same. Perching on the edge of my seat, I gave him attention. He was dressed in sombre colours as he had before, his only concession to dandyism were a few fobs; one holding a seal, and several others with stones the names of which I knew not. He was giving me the careful scrutiny I was affording him and neither of us, by the scowl which was adorning
his
features at least, was happy about it.

“I think we can be blunt about matters, Chaloner,” he said at last. “You want to marry my cousin, and I think that all of England knows it by now. Correct?”

Embarrassed at his frankness, I stood and moved back to the fireplace to give myself a moment to consider. When I turned again to face him, he was standing, also, his expression dark.

I swallowed the irritation I was beginning to find normal in his presence, an irrational need to shake him like a terrier would a rat, and took a deep breath, affecting boredom. “Shall we then consider that we have already greeted each other like civilised men, Heyward. I have spoken, perhaps about the weather, the unseasonable chill and gloom of the season which should already be full of flowers and is not. You, I’m sure, have acquaintance in Bath and have relayed an amusing story of something that happened last season. We shall talk for awhile about horses, perhaps you’ll,” I looked scathingly at his infirmity, “ask me about the war, and I shall gloss modestly over any heroism I may have done. Eventually, over our second sherry,” I looked down at my empty hand and gave a look of mock surprise, “we might, with some delicacy, move to more tender subjects.”

I thought he was going to explode, and for a moment I wondered if I had gone too far. That thought lasted no more than a second; for if he was already persuaded to take against me, it was better that we knew where we stood. I was no dissembler; I could not solicit his good regard if he was determined not to give it, but I was going to find out why or be expelled in the attempt of it.

“For whatever reason you have for taking against me without making my acquaintance, Heyward, I wish you would explain it, for I am tired of being frowned at as if I were some French pirate.”

He moved closer, and to my surprise his expression was mild, almost curious. I wondered how many times he had been in this position—for I was now certain it was the fact he thought I was no more than a trophy hunter, and from a certain perspective, I was—even if I had only just discovered that fact for myself.

He was very close to me by the fireplace, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. He looked a little flushed as if he had been drinking, but there was no scent of it that I could discern. He reached out and I thought for a moment that he was going to touch me. At the idea of it, my heart leapt in surprise and I felt a strange and not unpleasant warmth in my loins, which shook me to the core. Immediately afterwards I had that sensation of violence again; there was nothing I wanted more but to hold him by the shoulders and shake him until he lost that smug expression. However he did not encourage me to manslaughter; all he did was to grasp the bell-pull, which I was blocking. A servant arrived, poured some Tokay and left. He raised his glass to me. “I think first blood then, goes to you.”

“I have no quarrel with you, Heyward.”

“Nor should you. But if you had a sister, would you not be as solicitous of her welfare?”

“I should hope to be, but my father would probably stand in for me in that instance—your grandfather...”

“... is easily persuadable,” he finished. All trace of the scowl had left his face and I noticed again how handsome he was. His face was long, and the curls of his fringe hung heavy over his wide forehead. His eyes were unsymmetrical but their imperfection gave him a great deal of character, and their expression seemed to change constantly; he seemed incapable of being unable to disguise his emotion. But it was his mouth that seemed to define him, it was capable of much movement and whether he was aware of it, he used it well. Full lips, but not pouting, and a width which might look out of kilter on another man, but on him seemed to suit him perfectly well, giving him even more ammunition to express himself. I gauged that for a man unlikely to be able to defend himself by way of fists or weapons, for I guessed he was untrained in either, a ready wit was good artillery.

He didn’t seem to mind my examining him, but paused a little, as if appraising me in return. “I have to say,” he continued, showing no signs of moving away, “that my grandfather is impressed by rank, wealth and stature. He would accept
you
in a heartbeat.”

“I wasn’t intending to propose to
him
,” I said, almost without thought, and one edge of his extraordinary mouth quirked up. “I was under the impression that Miss Pelham was of age.”

At this he smiled, the damnable man, but his eyes were still wary. “She is, indeed. But she listens to advice. She, as you may have—as
many
predatory suitors have—discerned, she is a little unworldly. My grandfather would have her married to Mr. Finbarr Thouless by now had I not stepped in.”

At the mention of that most damnable rake, the scourge of many a family in the past few years, my blood ran cold. “Surely not?”

“Why not?” he said, putting his glass on the mantlepiece and idly stroking one of the ornaments there. “He may have no title, but he has an income of ten thousand, and estates in Ireland, even though he sells them as fast as he can.” He seemed to be looking straight into my soul and knowing exactly how much I would be worth, should this marriage go through. I had a feeling he knew more than I did, although truth to say, that would not be difficult.

“He also has at least three women who thought they were wife to him.”

“And many more who should be, and were not even deceived into ceremony.”

I took a breath; I did not like the way the conversation was turning. I would not be so insulted as to be considered in the same breath as
Soulless
Finbarr, as he was becoming known. “I am in earnest, sir. Not titled, it is true.” There was little point telling him that I had no idea of the young lady’s status when I had met them the first two times, “and I don’t insult your intelligence by telling you that I am in love for I am sure it is a tale you have heard before. But I am in earnest.” I hoped that my face would speak for me.

He stared hard into my eyes, and as he did, I felt that warmth again, but this time without the need to inflict violence upon him. The warmth spread, and my rod stirred in my breeches. I paled and drained my drink, wishing for another. Damnable time for such schoolboy inconvenience.

“You do not look a dissembler,” he said slowly. “But then Thouless has fooled many with those angel eyes and silver tongue of his. Shall we not shake hands, sir?” he said. He moved his cane over, and held out a hand. “I give you leave to woo, at least—and I look forward to your progress with some anticipation.”

I smiled at him, probably for the first time since we’d met, and I saw his expression change once more, and his look was hard to describe. My batman, Porter, who had dragged himself across the Peninsula after me, was an avid collector of insect life and had, at all times, carried a case full of dead specimens he had picked up on our marches. The expression that Heyward had at that moment was so similar to Porter’s as to be identical; it was as if he’d discovered a new species of butterfly. I took his hand, shook it soundly, and nearly fell backwards when Heyward drifted forward as if off balance. His cane fell to the floor and the damnable man kissed me full on the lips. The weight of his stumble forced us together for mere seconds and I was almost too startled to move, and then I found I could not push him away. The feel of another’s lips on mine, the warmth, the slight dampness, and the incredible sensation of sight—impossible to describe—but I could
see
his mouth with my lips, and God help me, I wanted to crush him to me, as strongly as I wanted to shove him away, to see him sprawled and helpless on the floor like a turtle on its back.

Instead I took him by the elbows and lifted him, easily—he was surprisingly slight—pushed him against the fire surround and bent down to get his cane. I found I was shaking, with what I thought was anger. “You continue to test me,” I muttered, “although there are more gentlemanly ways to do it than trying to prove me unnatural.” I wondered briefly if he had tested Thouless in the same way and I felt an unwarranted stab of emotion at the very thought of it. Knowing what I did of Thouless, I wouldn’t have imagined
he
would have pushed the handsome Heyward away with such anger and ease.