“What, and spoil Lord Uxbridge’s cavalry review? Impossible.”
Jack chuckled. “What if the French decide to march over the border and spoil it for us? If they’ve all the spies they’re credited with, they must know of it.”
Beckett looked momentarily troubled, then smiled again, his sunny nature overcoming his fears. “At least our cavalry would be concentrated and ready to act. And Boney is still in Paris, so our spies say.”
Shortly thereafter, Jack and Beckett rode out of Brussels together and spent the day drilling his brigade. He had already planned the drill, so he was not deliberately avoiding Elizabeth. But he was glad of the excuse to be many miles from her after her discovery about Liddicott. If only he had never seen Bella in London! If only he’d told Elizabeth the truth...but, no, she could not have borne it. And he couldn’t bear to speak of it. The more he grew to love Elizabeth, the more the memory of that night made him burn with shame.
He’d seethed with resentment then against Giles for maneuvering him into marrying a grave, plain nobody of a wife. When he’d encountered Bella, he’d been as ready to use her as she could be to have him. Their coupling had been an act of defiance, a way for him to assert that marriage wouldn’t change him, that an unconsummated marriage to a woman he barely knew and didn’t want didn’t truly count. He’d been half-ashamed even then, aware he was acting more like a petulant schoolboy than a gentleman, but it hadn’t been enough to stop him.
Once he’d confessed most of his sins and Elizabeth had forgiven him, he’d managed to almost forget. He was in love with his wife, she loved him, and the world was a new and delightful place. But now Liddicott reminded him of what he had been and how little he deserved his present happiness.
He managed to stretch the drill into a full inspection, followed by repairing with the higher-ranking officers of his brigade to an inn that a major of the Seventy-Ninth assured him served the best beer he had drunk since arriving in Belgium. Over a dinner washed down with a great quantity of said beer, which was as delicious as advertised, he pumped the others for stories of the Peninsula and repaid them with tales of Canada and Tecumseh and fighting Americans.
“You know, sir,” said a drunken major of the Ninety-Fifth as he held Menelaus’s head while Jack mounted to ride back to Brussels in the twilight. “I wasn’t sure about you, at first. Not one of ours, spent all that time in Canada fighting Jonathans instead of Frogs. We weren’t sure. None of us. But you’re good. You’ll do.”
Jack smiled down at him as he carefully gathered the reins. He was just drunk enough to know he wasn’t sober. He’d let the horse take him home at his own pace, no galloping. Clever horse, Menelaus was. “You’re good, too, Major Matheson. Best damn brigade in the whole damn army, we are.” He lifted his hat, then set it carefully back on his head. Wouldn’t do to drop his hat, not at all. He clucked his tongue. “Home, Menelaus.” With Beckett trailing behind, he made his way back to Brussels at a careful walk.
* * *
“How much did you drink last night?”
Jack rubbed his aching forehead and blinked at his wife, who was already dressed for the cavalry review in a handsome green riding habit. “Too much,” he replied.
“So I thought. You snore more when you’re drunk.”
He made a face at her as he shrugged into his red coat. “I’m glad I stayed to dine with my officers. I think they’re beginning to trust me now.”
“Because you’ve been drunk with them. Men!”
“We’re beasts,” he agreed. It was even truer than she could know.
“Undoubtedly, but some of you are beasts with lovely plumage, and we should be on our way if we don’t want to miss the review.”
“Ah, I see. You’re only eager to go so you can admire men in uniform.”
“The man in uniform I admire most is right here in this room, even if he’s as cross as an old bear when he drinks too much. But I believe the effect of thousands of you, and all on horseback, might be particularly exciting. And also, most of my friends will be there.”
“You’ve no idea how happy it makes me to see you so happy here, and surrounded by friends. You deserve this. You should’ve had it years ago.”
She smiled, and the open affection in her eyes almost pained him. “But I wouldn’t have known how to appreciate it then. I’m well content with my lot, my dear. Exactly as it is.”
They rode together to the review in Ninove, and all through the long, sunny afternoon Jack’s chief pleasure was in watching his wife’s pleasure as she, together with a little knot of other officers’ wives, talked and laughed together, open in their admiration of the gleaming ranks of cavalry and horse artillery.
They had not been invited to Lord Uxbridge’s dinner for a hundred or so carefully selected guests, so they were back in their own quarters before dark. For once, they had no ball or dinner or party to attend, and the Langs were out dining with some of the officers of his regiment.
“Alone at last,” Elizabeth said lightly as they sat down to a simple dinner.
“Indeed. I’m glad you had such an enjoyable day, my dear.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why this sudden concern over my enjoyment? You know I’m happy—happy with you, and happy here. What’s wrong? Do you have secret orders to march for France soon? I swear I won’t let a word slip if you tell me.”
“No, it’s not that. Wellington hasn’t confided in me, but the end of June is the earliest date I’ve heard anyone speculate upon. The Austrians and the Russians aren’t ready yet.”
“Ah.” She fiddled with her food. “It’s this business with Mr. Liddicott, isn’t it?”
He bit his lip. “A little,” he confessed. “His presence reminds me how little I deserve you.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath, pushed her chair back and stood. “You’re being absurd. I forgive you. I always knew it was possible that I’d run across some piece of your past. I thought it would be in Canada, not here, but still, I knew. It doesn’t matter now. I forgave you months ago. And I don’t want you lost in woe about how little you deserve me, especially if it keeps you out of my bed!”
All he could do was stare at her. “Oh.”
A doubting expression flitted across her face. “Unless you’ve decided you don’t want to be there anymore.”
“God, no! Never that.”
“Good.” She crossed to the door and beckoned to him. “Then come with me.”
If he was ever going to tell her the truth, he ought to do it now. He could say he hadn’t quite told her everything, that he’d been ashamed. She might even forgive him, since she wanted a lover and not a penitent.
No, why run the risk? It wasn’t as though they were on any kind of terms with Liddicott. He couldn’t tell Elizabeth anything. And surely the man had nothing but his suspicions. If he knew anything, it would be from the early days with the regiment. Which young officers had sampled Bella’s favors had been an open secret then, and someone might have talked. Jack was the only one here in Brussels, so he’d simply fallen in for all of Liddicott’s ancient anger, and he had nothing to fear.
He shoved his chair back and stood, rubbing his sore leg, and followed his wife upstairs.
“You took your time,” she chided him when he walked into the bedroom.
“My leg was a little stiff from all the riding I’ve done the past few days. I didn’t want it to give us any trouble.” Despite his doubts and fears, he was half hard already. He loved it when Elizabeth was imperious.
“No, indeed. Though I would always be delighted to rub it for you.”
“But you get distracted. You always seem to turn your attention straight to...other stiffnesses.”
“That’s only because they will arise whenever my hands are near to them.”
Good God, how he loved her in this mood. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
She let out a throaty chuckle. “Ah, I see that you have missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”
He opene
d his eyes again and watched, struck dumb and motionless, as she closed the short distance between them. Her eyes never straying from his face, she settled her hand on his cock, gone hard and straining against his tight pantaloons. “Now, this doesn’t feel comfortable for you at all,” she said and reached for his buttons.
Her deft fingers made short work of the buttons and his drawers, and his cock sprang free. She held him with both hands and stroked, slow and gentle, as she studied his face. What was she looking for?
Then a mischievous smile tilted up one corner of her mouth. “I know what you’ll like even better.”
She sank to her knees, and before Jack could protest that she mustn’t kneel to him, that it wasn’t right and he didn’t deserve it, her mouth closed around him and he was lost. When her tongue circled the head of his cock and darted back and forth across its seam, his hand seemed to move of its own volition, tangling into her elaborately braided hair to keep her just where she was. She laughed that self-satisfied little laugh again, and he could feel it vibrate along his length.
Blindly he groped with his other hand for the bedpost. He didn’t trust his legs to keep him upright while she did this to him, not while she leaned in to take him as far as she could go, then pulled back to suck hard on his very tip, her tongue busy all the while, licking and teasing. He could feel himself about to come, about to spend in her mouth, but this wasn’t the time for that. He couldn’t only take.
“Your turn,” he gasped, pulling her head away. “On your back, on the bed.”
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight, a more erotic sight than the way she looked at him, heavy-lidded, her lips wet and red, her glossy, silky hair slipping out of its careful coiffure. He gave her his hand to help her stand, then pushed her toward the bed.
With a little moan, she sprawled back onto the mattress. He dragged her skirts up to her waist to bare her sex. Before he could ask for it she bent her knees and spread her legs apart, digging her still-stockinged heels into the mattress for purchase.
It was his turn to hum low in his throat with satisfaction as he bent over her, spread open her folds with gentle fingers and sucked her clitoris into his mouth. She cried out and bucked against him, but he held her still while he licked and kissed and worked his tongue inside her until she came twice, gasping and moaning. Only then did he join her on the bed and sink his cock inside her.
“I missed you,” she said as he thrust, threading her fingers through his hair.
“So did I.”
“This is better than getting drunk with your officers, isn’t it?”
“Yes. God, yes.” Then he couldn’t talk for a time as he thrust, harder and faster, until at last he spent.
As they lay in each other’s arms afterward, laughing over how they were essentially still dressed, he reflected that perhaps one tiny lie didn’t matter so much. He had spoken the truth where it mattered. He loved Elizabeth, and he would never break faith with her again.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning Jack walked to the park early, while Elizabeth and Mrs. Lang were just beginning breakfast, and sought out Liddicott. He found him after about ten minutes, near the Royal Palace with a younger man Jack assumed to be his nephew.
Jack stopped about five paces in front of them. “Henry Liddicott,” he said.
Liddicott met his stare. “General Armstrong. I’ve been expecting to meet you soon.”
“I daresay you have, and here I am.”
He smiled, slow and menacing, then turned to his companion. “Why don’t you leave us, Joseph? The general and I have much to discuss.”
Joseph looked doubtingly between them. “If you’re certain, Uncle.”
“I am. Don’t worry. The general and I are too civilized to come to blows or fight a duel before the palace. I’ll see you at home.”
After one more lingering glance, the nephew hurried off.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Liddicott asked, stepping a little closer.
Jack drew alongside him so they could walk together and avoid drawing curious stares. “Just this—you have been stalking my wife and frightening her. If you do not cease immediately, I will see that you face the consequences.”
“And what might those consequences be? You cannot challenge me to a duel, not if you value your command. And even if you did, could you fight with swords, on that leg?”
Jack had expected Liddicott to make that precise argument, and he smiled slowly before replying. “No, not a duel. You gave up any right to a clean and honorable fight when you brought Lady Armstrong into this. What possible quarrel could you have with her? No, I’ll simply drop in a few of the most gossipy ears I know just what Bella used to say of you, as a husband and a lover.”
Liddicott went white around the lips. “You wouldn’t dare! That lovely wife of yours wouldn’t be so disgustingly in love with you if she knew of your affairs.”
“She knows my affairs are my past, and she is my future. And you have no quarrel with her.”
“On the contrary, I do. She is your happiness, and I have ample reason to quarrel with that.”
A cold chill ran down Jack’s spine. “If you dare harm her—”
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t hurt her. I’m only tired of seeing you happy, when you were an instrument of my misery.”
“You’re mad. If you had made Bella happy, she never would’ve strayed. And why this particular interest in me? Surely you don’t think I was Bella’s only lover.”
“Oh, believe me, I know that well. But you are here, and the others are not. And you were one of her favorites, too. It would give me great pleasure to see you made as unhappy as I was. And perhaps, now that I think of it, it may happen without any interference whatsoever from me. Your wife is becoming one of the belles of Brussels. How do you know all those walks in the park with your Lieutenant Beckett are innocent? He’s little more than a boy, but so were many of Bella’s lovers—you among them. And what of Lady Armstrong’s dances with the Duke of Wellington? Everyone knows his reputation.”
Jack laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. “Yes, and he takes so little care to hide it that if he had any interest in my wife beyond mere friendship, everyone in the city would know it by now. But, you see, I trust my wife. I have no reason to fear her strolling or dancing with whomever she pleases, because I know what she is to me, and I am to her.”
“There was a time when I would’ve said the same of Bella.”
“Then you were never paying attention. I’ve heard enough of this. I bid you good morning, Liddicott. Leave Lady Armstrong alone. You cannot drive us apart, and I won’t have her frightened any longer.”
Jack stalked off without waiting for a response. A few days later, he asked Elizabeth if she’d seen anything further of Liddicott as she went about her daily round of strolling, shopping and paying calls.
“No, I haven’t seen him in three days,” she said with a shrug. “I suppose he decided we were dull sport after all.”
Jack nodded, satisfied, and forbore to tell her of the confrontation. She had more than enough to worry about without it. May had turned to June, and war rumors were picking up pace. Wellington was still playing his cards close to his vest, but now most everyone in the army expected the invasion to commence this month rather than July. And a few reports of doubtful reliability even said Bonaparte was ready to march north from Paris.
* * *
Though she and Jack had made their peace and resumed their almost nightly romps in bed, Elizabeth didn’t feel quite the same joy after the confrontation with Liddicott. She told herself it was only that the war seemed to be closing in upon them. In May, there had been moments when their life seemed like nothing but a grand holiday, with the gaudy uniforms only costumes for their festivities.
But by the first week of June, Elizabeth could tell the military situation was growing more serious. The balls and dinners went on, and Wellington remained at the center of the whirl, but officers in
regiments billeted far from the city were no longer seen in Brussels. Elizabeth had been invited to a picnic in the countryside that was only half planned before Lady Georgiana Lennox confided she had asked the duke about the advisability of the event and was told it would be better to let it drop. “So,” the younger lady said, “I am sure something will happen soon.”
Still, Jack swore he knew of no settled plan, and everyone knew Wellington was to attend the Duchess of Richmond’s ball on the fifteenth. Elizabeth was quite proud that she and Jack had received cards for it. Everyone knew Her Grace was particular as to matters of rank, social rather than military, and for a mere country gentleman like Jack and the daughter of a disgraced banker like Elizabeth to be invited to such an event was a triumph indeed. They had never been invited to previous affairs at the Richmonds’ house. Elizabeth could only suppose it was her growing friendship with the duchess’s daughters, the young Lennox sisters, who seemed to have adopted her as a sort of temporary aunt, that had gained them their entrée at last.
She awoke on the morning of the ball feeling sleepy and out of sorts and begged off her morning walk with Louisa to instead spend the forenoon resting and reading a few chapters of Waverley. After a few hours of reading and an hour or two of napping, she was feeling much more herself by late afternoon. She sat in the back parlor she and Louisa had made into a feminine refuge amid their husbands’ masculine, military world, mending one of Jack’s shirts and chatting with Louisa, who was hard at work sewing baby dresses.
“What will you wear to the ball tonight?” Louisa asked as she inspected a hem. She and her husband hadn’t been invited, but she claimed with evident honesty that she didn’t mind—she found dances more and more wearing as her body grew heavy and ungainly with pregnancy.
An Infamous Marriage Page 23
