The Portrait (3 page)

Croft nodded and busied himself about the room. "The Holland covers have been removed from all the rooms, sir, and
everything is as it should be. My Rose has seen to that. She has
made ready your regimentals. ..

The earl pushed himself erect. "Then she need not have
bothered. I'm not in the military now. I am a civilian and have
no wish to cling to my uniform. Lay out the blue superfineit will suffice"

"Aye, sir, I thought you might say that" Croft grinned and
brought forward a chair for Sinclair. "Until your valet arrives
from London and takes over its care, Rose has had your entire
wardrobe refreshed"

Sinclair sat on the chair, not wishing to admit to the weakness he felt from rising, determined to greet his betrothed with at least some of his old vigor. "When my visitor arrives, serve
refreshments immediately, and then I wish for no interruptions for the remainder of her visit. Is that quite clear?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Then bring my razor, and help me prepare."

Once his dressing had been completed and Croft had been
dismissed, the earl stood before the large mirror and examined the results. While not thoroughly pleased with what he
saw, he felt some satisfaction at returning at last to his civilian
clothing. The empty sleeve had been pinned to the breast of
his coat, which, though still fitting the broad expanse of his
shoulders, hung on his battle-hardened frame. He stood for a
moment longer and made a mental note that a visit from his
tailor should be arranged as soon as possible. Turning abruptly
away from his reflection, he crossed to the dresser and, opening one of the drawers, took out the miniature.

He held it before him, a slow smile spreading over his countenance. Then, as if taken by a sudden decision, he crossed
to the hearth and threw it into the newly lit fire. However, seeing the flames rise up to lick the edges of the frame brought a
pain to his breast he could not bear, and, snatching up a pair of
tongs, he bent quickly and retrieved it once more, unable to endure its destruction.

"Not yet. Not yet," he whispered to the sweet face that
looked back at him. "It is too soon. I will have you with me a
while longer. I cannot bear your going." Taking it once more
to the dresser, he pulled out a fine linen handkerchief and,
spreading it wide, laid the portrait within its folds and returned it to the drawer.

His shoulder and the wounds to his side ached. The long
journey back to England had taken its toll on his resources,
but, wishing not to evoke pity, he was determined to present
no feeble form to his betrothed when she arrived. Instead, he
pulled back his shoulders and, casting a final glance at the
mirror, left his apartment and made his way to the breakfast
room on the ground floor.

It was the first time he had ventured from his chamber since his arrival, and he felt the warmth of familiar surroundings
once more envelop him, the only sadness being that his father
was no longer present. It had been just before the battle at Albuera that he had heard of his death. However, the urgency of
the situation in Spain had precluded his return, even though
his desire was to be with his younger brother, Peregrine, whom
he now found to be his ward. The boy, then but fifteen years of
age, had gone to live with their married sister, Lady Flora
Carlton, in Essex but was now in his first term at Oxford. Notice
of the earl's return had been sent to Peregrine, and arrangements were in progress that he should return to Fly Hall at the
end of term in two weeks' time. Edward had thought it prudent that his brother not return before the given date, as he
wished to be more recovered from his journey for their reunion. Peregrine idolized him, and he wished to appear still
strong.

Sinclair eased himself into the chair held for him at the
breakfast table but, ignoring the collation Rose had deemed
necessary to prepare, ordered the butler to bring him nothing
but eggs and toast. He had no appetite, but it would appear
churlish should he refuse all Rose's efforts on his behalf. However, while he drank a steaming cup of coffee, he merely toyed
with the meal before finally pushing away his plate, which
the butler immediately removed.

Lady Jennifer Lynton, a petite brunet, pushed aside her morning repast and rose hastily from the table.

"I have already told you, Arthur, I am determined to release
the Earl of Sinclair from the engagement," she vowed, standing resolutely before her elder brother, her usually expressive
blue eyes and sweet countenance holding a determination
rarely seen.

Throwing aside his napkin and pushing his chair from the
table, the Earl of Hawley said with equal asperity, "That you
will not, my girl. It is all arranged, and no matter the circumstances, the marriage will go ahead."

"Don't you care that I have no desire whatsoever to be mar ried?" she accused. "It was only to please Father that I agreed
to it in the first place, and now that he's no longer with us, I
feel no need to go through with it."

"More likely, now that you've met young Rothwell, you
feel no need to go through with it. Ah, yes, I've seen you making calf's eyes at him, miss."

"That you have not," she cried, stamping her foot emphatically. "I have never made calf's eyes at anyone, let alone Lord
Rothwell, whom I find insufferably self-centered and opinionated. It's just that ... Well ..

"There, you can't give a good reason why you shouldn't
become Sinclair's countess, can you?" declared Arthur with
some aplomb. "Think of the benefits. He's well-bred with impeccable connections. He's also known to be extremely eventempered, which must recommend him to any young bride."

`But, Arthur, I wish for more than an even temper from a
husband... "

"With your hoydenish ways, an even temper is a distinct advantage and much to be desired. How else would he be able to
contend with your starts and fancies? No, I am determined
that you will go through with the marriage."

"You want nothing more than to be free of me," Jennifer
stated. "Frederick, too, for that matter. Indeed, if truth were told,
you want the house to yourself so that you can marry Amelia
Cheviot."

"And if I do, who can blame me? I will not play nursemaid
to you and your brother. It wasn't my wish to be left guardian
to my siblings. Surely you must realize just how repugnant the
situation is to me"

"Frederick need not concern you-but you have made sure
of that. He had no great desire to go up to Oxford, but you insisted. For myself, I have no more wish to live with you than
you have to have me here, but I will not be pushed into marriage just to suit your purpose"

"You ever were an ungrateful chit," Arthur fumed, rising
and making for the door. "But I warn you, refuse Sinclair, and
you will find me less than charitable. Then see how far your face and fortune will get you when you're obliged to accept
the first man who comes along. You will be glad to, if only to
remove yourself from my influence." With a flourish he was
gone, leaving Jennifer to stare angrily after him.

However, once she was alone, her mood underwent a
complete turnabout, and an air of uncertainty overtook her.
With lagging steps she left the breakfast parlor to go to her
own apartments to prepare for her visit. Nonetheless, upon entering her bedchamber, instead of calling for her maid to help
her dress for her journey, she went to sit in the window seat.
Resting her head in her cupped hand, she gazed blankly through
the casement.

When she thought of the Earl of Sinclair, as she had done
quite often since the event of their betrothal, it was with very
mixed emotions. At first, when the betrothal had been announced, being the envy of all her contemporaries, she was
filled with excitement, but the feeling had been short-lived.
No sooner had the notice of the engagement been posted in
the Gazette than her betrothed had found it necessary to dispatch himself to Spain, and he had seemed in no hurry to return. Even his letters had been very formal, hardly what one
would expect from a would-be bridegroom, and she had found
it difficult to respond to his impersonal tone.

Even when he had been wounded, he'd not found it necessary to communicate that fact to her. She had received news
of it from George Reynolds, the brother of her friend Anne,
and he had only heard of it by chance. She knew not the nature of the earl's wounds or their extent and felt piqued at what
she perceived as the cavalier way in which she'd been treated.
Did he think her of so little consequence that he'd denied her
the knowledge of his injuries? Indeed, she had only learned of
his impending return by way of a brief communication from
Reynolds, who had gleaned the information from his position
at Whitehall. She had immediately sent a note to Fly, determined to inform the earl of her decision at the earliest opportunity.

"I am thoroughly out of patience with you, Edward
Thurston," she said to the empty room. "I will not be all but
ignored for more than two years and then be expected to trot
up the aisle with you. Indeed I will not!" She wouldn't admit
to what extent saying those words only served to deepen the
hurt she felt, but, rallying, she called for her maid and with
some determination prepared for her visit.

Entering the hallway at Fly, Jennifer asked her cousin
Eleanor, who acted as chaperone, to await her there. Despite
the impropriety, she wished for no witness to the interview
with her betrothed, desiring whatever words were spoken to
remain private. It took much persuading, but eventually
Eleanor, much against her better judgment, succumbed to her
young relative's pleadings and allowed herself to be cozily
seated by the large fireplace, glad of its welcoming warmth
after the chill of the carriage.

Hearing the sounds of arrival, the earl rose from his chair
in the morning room and prepared to meet his intended. Something in the region of his chest clenched at the thought of the
impending interview, but he schooled his countenance to
greet her with an equanimity he was far from feeling.

Almost immediately the door opened, and Croft announced
Lady Jennifer. Full of resolve, her skirts swishing with the
crispness of her steps, she came quickly into the light-filled,
blue and gold salon. As the door closed quietly behind her,
she came to an abrupt halt.

Finding it difficult to advance farther into the room, she visibly blanched at the extent of Sinclair's injuries, her expressive
eyes widening at sight of his altered appearance. Nothing
could have prepared her for the emotions the mere sight of
him evoked, and whatever words she might have uttered died
unsaid.

Ignoring his wildly leaping emotions at seeing her once
more, Edward drank in the delicacy of her features and form and, gathering his cloak of resolve about him, quickly closed
the gap between them. Taking her cold fingers in his warm
clasp, he raised them dutifully to his lips, feeling them tremble
in his hold. His eyes never left her face, and he realized that
there was no guile about her as he watched the mix of emotions that chased across her pale countenance. In that instant he knew he had made the right decision to end the
betrothal.

"My lord, I .." she began, but her voice failed, and he saw
tears well up in her beautiful eyes.

"Will you not be seated, Lady Jennifer?" he said, leading
her to a chair by the hearth. "Croft will bring refreshments,
and after a cup of tea I am sure you will feel more the thing."
Releasing her hand, he stood before her as she sank into the
chair. He found it necessary to concentrate, to keep his voice
neutral, so that she would not be aware of his inner turmoil.
Grateful that he was at least allowed to retain his pride, he was
relieved that he showed no signs of the physical weakness that
had laid him so low.

"I realize my appearance must come as quite a shock to
you," he said with an incongruous smile.

She half rose, but he held up his hand to forestall her, and
she once more sank back against the cushions. All former irritation forgotten, she was unable to put into words what she
was feeling at that precise moment and was relieved when a
light tapping on the door heralded an interruption.

Croft came into the room with a tray full of a light repast,
which he placed on a low table set at their side, whilst a butler
brought in a tea tray and set it on a small table beside Jennifer.

Busying herself with pouring the tea, she set up a flow of
inconsequential conversation in the hope of presenting a diversion. She never allowed her eyes to wander from her task,
dreading the moment when she would be forced to acknowledge the situation. However, as she handed the cup to Sinclair,
the words died on her lips as she became aware of his intense
scrutiny.

Seeing her unease, Edward straightened himself in his chair, saying in a subdued tone, "Lady Jennifer, I think it only fair
that I bring about a swift end to your disquiet. I see what effect my injuries have on you, and believe me when I say that I
quite understand. I am not so insensitive as to not realize just
how devastating it would be if you were forced to ally yourself
to such an individual as I have become. I would not wish it on
you."

She would have given an answer, but he slowly shook his
head. "There is no need to attempt to put the matter delicately.
I am quite sure you realize, as do I, that to continue with the
engagement would be disastrous. Therefore, I will not equivocate on the issue. I release you from your promise. The wedding
will not take place."

"It is not your wish that we should marry?" she asked, paling still further.

"It is not. I will send a retraction to the Gazette immediately. It will be understood that I have been too long away, and
who should blame us if our sentiments have undergone a
change during that time? Indeed, it will be seen that I am the
cause of the rift, so you need not fear censure"

"Are my feelings on the matter not to be considered then,
sir?" she demanded.