The Tainted Love of a Captain

by Jane Lark

  She laughed. ‘If I am able to escape the house at that hour I would be happy to stand with you.’

  Her fingers slipped off his arm and he bowed slightly. To a whore… But she was not that, not in the same way as the women he’d known. She confused him. ‘I shall meet you again tomorrow afternoon, then.’

  ‘I hope so, but I cannot promise.’ She smiled, in a way that expressed her liking for him, but with none of the open desire to attract his attention a normal whore would have deployed. Then she turned away.

  His gaze followed her as she joined her maid. She glanced back at him. He smiled at her. The smile he received in return he would describe as flirtatious, but it was still not like the looks he received from the women in a gentleman’s club.

  He looked down at Ash and stroked the dog’s head. ‘Come on, girl, let’s play for a while before we go back.’

  He walked down to the shore.

  Miss Cotton hovered in his thoughts for the rest of the day and when he retired to his bed she was still there. He was unsure of what to think, of whether he should allow himself to think anything. He had enjoyed her company and his fascination with her eyes had become a fascination for her character, her silences and blushes.

  Chapter 2

  When Harry collected his letters, there were three. One from his sister, which largely contained stories about the cleverness of her children and asked after Ash on behalf of Iris. The next came from his younger brother, Daniel, saying he was thinking of a military career and asking for Harry’s view.

  God, how to respond on such a point to his little brother when his mind cried out daily with the haunting visions of men cut through by swords or lances or blown to pieces by cannon and shots from a rifle? He’d seen their bodies fall into the mud. Then there were the men he had visited lying in filthy sheets in makeshift hospitals, where the air had been foetid with the smell of their putrid flesh rotting on their bones. He could not encourage his brother to become a soldier.

  The third letter was another invitation to Colonel Hillier’s. The men he’d played with probably wished to win their money back. He smiled, then took the letter to the mess room, where he could write back and accept. He did not accept for the benefit of a game, though, but for another opportunity to see Charlotte.

  They had met twice more on the beach while he’d played with Ash. But he was still interested in seeing her at the Colonel’s house. He was trying to decipher how things stood with her. A woman who was paid for her bed sport and yet named as belonging exclusively to one man.

  His lieutenant colonel was also invited and so they rode into Brighton together.

  When they walked into the hall, as a servant shut the front door, Colonel Hillier came into the hall to greet them. It was unlike the previous occasion when Harry had visited the house.

  He welcomed Harry’s lieutenant colonel first, then looked at Harry and held out a hand. ‘You have eyes remarkably like those of a woman I once knew, Captain Marlow.’ He shook Harry’s hand then turned away.

  It was an odd statement and one that discomposed Harry to the point he made the decision not to accept any more invitations. The man had a mistress and yet perhaps he had a leaning either way and favoured men and women. Harry was not that way inclined. He looked at Charlotte differently, though, when she was called into the room to offer them a cigar from the wooden box.

  She did not smile at him in the same open way she had done at the seashore. But as she walked about the men who were gathered at the unusual half-circle table her gaze favoured Harry, her eyes expressing the connection they had formed in the last few days as they’d conversed, a budding sort of friendship.

  Harry’s eyes were continually drawn to her too; whenever she came into the room she pulled his attention away from the card game.

  He had a very strong desire to bed her. Even the thought somewhat released the tension in his body and his mind, quietening the guilt that always hovered in his soul. If merely thinking about lying with her could make him feel better, then how much better would he feel if he did it?

  He stared back at his cards. Why should he not accept the opportunity? She was not a virtuous woman and she had approached him, after all. Did it matter, then, that she was paid by another man?

  Perhaps it would be stealing, in a way. Yet surely Hillier paid for her hours and not her body. She was not his slave. He did not own her.

  Harry refilled his glass, losing focus on his cards and consequently as he refreshed the brandy in his glass again and again he lost hand after hand.

  He left Hillier’s sixty pounds down but with a desperate desire for the hours until he was to meet Charlotte again to hurry past. His decision on the woman was made. She was desirable, she had made herself available and he wished to partake.

  ~

  Charlie stood on the uneven pebbles waiting for Harry. He approached from the street that contained the inn where he kept his horse. Ash walked at a swift pace beside him, keeping up with the long strides of his master.

  Harry always looked so handsome and very grand in his manner. He walked with a determined stride and his dark-blue trousers, with their outer yellow stripe, seemed to make him taller and his vivid scarlet coat made his slender, muscular figure more defined.

  He was the prettiest man she’d ever seen; it was that which had made her watch him and his dog. He was fascinatingly attractive, almost too handsome to be real. Yet now she had spoken to him she knew he was real and as beautiful as he’d looked from a distance.

  Before he had come to Mark’s she’d been longing to ask the other officers who played cards who the man who entertained his dog on the beach was? But she had never dared.

  It was the dog that she had seen first and then she had watched Ash run up the beach and her attention had been drawn from Ash to her master. The closeness he seemed to have with Ash had made her want to stop and watch them and then she had noticed that Harry was even prettier than his dog.

  Then he had come to Mark’s. Captain Harry Marlow. It was a wonderful name, too. It made her smile. Harry.

  ‘Hello!’ he called from a few feet away.

  The pace of her heart beat lifted in a fluttering sensation.

  Since they had been talking each day, her heart felt as though it had grown the wings of a butterfly. ‘Hello.’

  ‘How are you?’ he asked as he joined her.

  Charlie glanced back along the path at the maid who’d walked with her. She had left Tilly a few feet away to mind her own business and Tilly had not come nearer to listen, which was what Charlie feared. But if anything had been said to Mark about her liaisons with Harry, which it probably had, he had not complained to her about it.

  She looked at Harry, again, turning her back on Tilly. ‘I am well. How was your game last evening?’

  ‘Must you ask?’ He threw the stick out into the sea. ‘Do you not know?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then do not ask.’

  She laughed as Ash returned with the stick.

  Harry looked at her after he’d thrown the stick again. ‘I have a question to ask you, though.’

  ‘Then you must ask it.’ She was very forward with Harry. She kept surprising herself. But it was the atmosphere he exuded. He always spoke so liberally it made her more confident to reply. But she had been forward with him from the beginning because she had been desperate to know this man with his dog. So desperate she had dared to write. But she had told herself that a woman of her status need not worry over what was right or wrong or fear the judgement of others. She had transcended those things. It was the one benefit of her status—she might do as she wished and she had wished to meet Ash and speak to Harry. That was not a crime.

  Her chin lifted and her back straightened in denial of the accusation of forwardness that continued charging at her in her head.

  Harry turned and faced her fully as Ash ran into the shallow, frothing ripples, chasing the stick as the tide pulled it out on a retreating wave. ‘If I hired a
room in an inn, would you come there with me?’

  ‘Now?’ To… Oh… She had not thought about where this might lead. She had thought of nothing other than that she admired him and she had wanted to know him. But. ‘My maid is with me.’ Her heart had jolted suddenly into a sharp pace.

  ‘Tomorrow. Would you meet me there?’

  Her heart was pounding as hard as her father had used to pound a hammer on a straight bar of iron to twist and curve it to make a horse’s shoe. She had not imagined, and yet she had in daydreams sometimes thought about what it would be like to kiss Harry.

  But to make this a sin…

  Ash shook the sea water off her coat, spraying them both. Then Harry took the stick from Ash’s mouth, lifted it and held it out of Ash’s reach. The dog barked and leapt around, waiting for it to be thrown again, then it was and Ash went racing after it.

  Harry looked at her. ‘Will you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She spoke without thought. She spoke from longing. Yes, she would like to be with a man like Harry. If she must share a bed with a man, then why could it not be with a man like Harry? She was being forced into sin anyway.

  When Ash returned next, Charlie took the stick and threw it out again, though it did not go as far as it would have if Harry had thrown it. She spoke about the dog, commenting on Ash’s ability to swim in the waves, to hide her awkwardness and move the conversation away from more personal, embarrassing things.

  She had agreed to share a bed with him. She would not be able to sleep this night. She must think of a reason not to bring Tilly tomorrow. Tilly might have laughed with her over the pretty dog and the attractive officer Charlie had pointed at in the distance, but she had not approved of Charlie speaking with Harry. She would certainly not approve of her going to an inn with him and if she told Mark that… She did not want Mark to know. He would spoil this. She was sure he would.

  When Harry told her it was time for him to return to the barracks, he also said, ‘Shall I meet you in the street outside the inn tomorrow?’

  Her heart thundered in her chest as though a bolt of lightning had struck her. ‘Could we not meet at the corner, there?’ She pointed to the street he usually appeared from. ‘I would feel uncomfortable standing outside an inn alone.’

  ‘Of course, forgive me. I did not think. Yes. Let us meet on the corner.’ He bowed slightly and when he straightened his very pale-blue eyes looked directly into hers, as though looking for an answer to something.

  He had beautiful eyes. They were his most notable feature. His hair was dark and his eyelashes and eyebrows dark and against those his blue eyes were a striking contrast.

  He took hold of her hand, lifted it and pressed a kiss on the back of her kid glove.

  Warmth rose in her skin, no one had kissed the back of her hand before. She pulled her hand free, bobbed a curtsey, which was silly, smiled and then turned away.

  He would think her a fool now.

  She glanced back. He was walking away with Ash at his side.

  She held the hand that he’d kissed. She could still feel the heat of his grip as he’d held it. Her heart beat out the rhythm of a hammer strike once more. Tomorrow…

  When she had written to ask him to meet her, she had not thought things through; she ought to have realised where it might lead. Yet perhaps she had known, really. She had wanted to know the handsome man and his dog with a desire that had become an obsession and she had dreamed of him. Now she pictured him in her imagination instead of seeing Mark when they did that.

  Hush mind! She did not want to think of that. She would not think about it outside of the room in which it must be done.

  But with Harry…

  Do not think! She ordered herself. She would do it to preserve their friendship. She would do it because she enjoyed his conversation and she liked looking at him and playing with his dog.

  When she returned to Mark’s house she found a reason to remain in her room until dinner and she hoped she did not have to go to Mark’s room later.

  He did not ask for her.

  ~

  Once Harry had completed his hours of duty, he let Ash run in the barracks’ yard, then took the dog to the stable. He left him there when he walked Obsidian out of the stall.

  He had dreamed of Charlotte last night. But then he had not lain with a woman for a couple of weeks and the need to do so was flooding his blood. The sense of escape achieved was as addictive as it was to gamble or drink.

  He patted Obsidian’s neck, then set his foot into the stirrup and lifted up, swinging his leg across the animal’s rump to take his seat in the saddle.

  ‘Where are you off to without Ash?’

  Harry looked across the yard at Gareth, who strode towards him. A strange sensation tightened the muscle in his stomach. Fear. He did not want his plans for the afternoon disrupted, and yet—there was guilt too. An emotion he knew well. But it was a guilt he could not really explain. Perhaps it was because he wished to keep this secret and keeping secrets meant that there was a sense of doing wrong. ‘For a ride.’ Was all he said in answer. They all had hours when they wished to be alone, Gareth would not think it odd.

  His friend nodded, then turned away.

  Harry rose up from the saddle, gripping Obsidian with his thighs, urging the horse into a trot and then he rode out of the stable yard. Leaving the barracks and the army behind.

  The inn’s groom took Obsidian as he had every other day, only today there was no Ash and Harry did not immediately leave the inn but walked inside to ensure there was a room available. He had not checked yesterday. There was.

  He walked along the street, his heart pulsing faster than it normally would. She was not waiting for him on the corner. Yet it was better that he awaited her rather than her being left to loiter. It would have been awkward for her. As she had made him aware yesterday, she was not a street prostitute.

  She appeared after about five minutes, walking quickly towards him. She lifted her hand and waved when she saw him. He lifted his hand and acknowledged her. His heart began to pulse harder, it had never raced at the thought of bedding a woman before. Or perhaps it had happened the first time, but that had been a long time ago.

  ‘Hello,’ she spoke first and smiled in a shy way.

  Another undefinable emotion twisted around in his chest, aching not clasping. ‘Hello. Shall we?’ He lifted his arm, as he would have to a woman he’d asked to dance at a ball. She wrapped her fingers about it, gently holding his coat sleeve.

  They walked the short distance to the inn in silence. He had no idea what to say.

  When he opened the door of the inn for her, her hand let go of his arm and she walked in ahead of him. He did not stop to speak to the clerk, but directed her up to the room through the press of his palm against the curve of her lower back above where the skirt of her dress flared out.

  He pushed open the door of the room. She walked in, then stopped about eight feet away from him. He locked the door, then faced her. ‘So…’ Where did he begin with this woman? With every other woman he’d lain with there had been no hesitation. They had agreed a payment or the price was already set by the club or the brothel and they had come to a room and begun.

  ‘I feel so awkward,’ she said, then laughed in a self-conscious way. But her laughter broke the ice that had settled over the moment.

  A sound of humour escaped his throat too. He laughed at himself. ‘I do too. Isn’t that silly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I should have ordered food, or something to drink, chocolate for you…’ Why? They were here for one thing. This was being truly ridiculous.

  She shook her head slightly. ‘I am neither hungry nor thirsty.’

  God. He was both, but not for food or water. ‘Let us begin by removing our hats and gloves, shall we?’

  He took his hat off and set it on a chest near the door, then stripped his gloves off and left them there too. When he looked back at Charlotte she was untying the bow of her bonnet. Her pale han
ds shook.

  He had not even seen her hands naked before.

  What a strange thought.

  She slid her bonnet off.

  He walked across and took her bonnet and gloves from her. Then carried them over to the chest to set them down beside his hat. She was watching him when he turned back. He smiled. ‘Will you take the pins out of your hair? It is a very pretty colour. I would like to see it down.’

  She began pulling the pins out at once, her hand still trembling. He walked over there and helped, looking only at her hair, searching out the silver and pearl heads of the pins.

  Her hair was such a vibrant copper colour and a mass of tight curls that tumbled on to her shoulders as the pins came free. He collected the pins in the palm of one hand. Then walked over and put them beside their other items.

  Bedding a whore had never been like this. Charlotte engendered a need to be solicitous.

  Yet he still wanted to be in the bed with her.

  He turned and walked back, his hands lifting. He wanted to touch her hair. He held the curls and rubbed the strands between his fingers. The colour glistened in the sunlight from the window, changing as amber did when the sun shone through it. His gaze turned to her face and then his fingers clasped, closing about her hair, at her shoulders, as he leant to kiss her.

  Her mouth opened as his did and her tongue reached forward to play with his while her hands came to the back of his head.

  He pulled away and looked down at the buttons on the front of her dress, then began undoing them.

  She started working the brass buttons on his coat free. Her hands were still trembling but they worked with the haste that he felt in his blood as he hurried too.

  This was more like the encounters he was used to.

  When she had undone his coat her fingers slipped beneath it and ran over his cotton shirt. The sensation was abrasive on his skin in a way that was arousing. It was the first time a woman had touched him like that while his clothes were on.