Web of Love

by Mary Balogh

  “I shall look forward to meeting them,” she said, and turned to smile at her husband with that warmth that always made Lord Eden vaguely envious.

  “Lady Madeline Raine has the same green eyes as Eden,” the captain said. “She is far prettier than he is, though.”

  They both laughed.

  Lord Eden took one more appreciative glance at Miss Simpson before bowing and taking his leave. Yes, she was very pretty indeed. And very much his type.

  THE EARL AND COUNTESS of Amberley and Lady Madeline Raine were gathered in the drawing room of the house they had rented in Brussels, waiting for Lord Eden’s arrival for tea. The earl’s infant son and daughter were with them, Lady Caroline Raine in her aunt’s arms, staring unblinkingly up at her, Viscount Cleeves crawling under chairs and tables, intent on some quiet game of his own.

  “How can such tiny fingers be so perfect?” Madeline said, spreading the baby’s fingers over one of her own. “Oh, Alexandra, I am so envious of you at times.”

  The Earl of Amberley lowered his paper and looked over the top of it at his sister. “You have no need to be, Madeline,” he said. “You could have a nursery full of your own children by now. The Duke of Wellington could make up a separate regiment of all the suitors you have had and rejected in the last seven or eight years. You could have been married twenty times over.”

  “I know,” she said. “I suppose I am just not the marrying kind, Edmund. Perhaps there will be someone quite irresistible at the duke’s ball, and I shall live happily ever after with him.”

  “I thought you were already interested in Colonel Huxtable,” the countess said.

  “I am,” Madeline said. “At least I am interested in his uniform. I am quite in love with it, in fact.” She laughed and returned her attention to the baby.

  The earl put down his papers when he felt his son tug at the leg of his breeches. “Are you getting impatient for your tea, tiger?” he asked, scooping the child up into his arms and getting to his feet. “And that wicked Uncle Dominic is late. I think perhaps I hear him coming, though.”

  The child shrieked with laughter as he was tossed toward the ceiling and caught again.

  “You had better go and meet him,” the earl said, setting his son down again and watching as he scurried across the room to meet Lord Eden.

  The child was soon being tossed in the air again.

  “I should have asked before I did that if you have had your tea yet,” Lord Eden said. “You aren’t about to toss bread and jam all over my uniform, are you, old pal?”

  “No, old pal,” the child said, laughing merrily.

  “Any news?” Lord Amberley asked.

  “More troops and artillery arriving daily,” Lord Eden said. “And the duke apparently bellowing for more. The usual.”

  “Will it really come to war, Dominic?” the countess asked. “Surely Bonaparte could not be that foolhardy. The British are here, the Dutch and Belgians, the Prussians. And more arriving daily. And promise of troops from Austria and Russia.”

  “I wouldn’t count on those last,” Lord Eden said, “and there aren’t enough of the former. And those soldiers we have are Johnny Raws, half of them. It’s a pity most of the veterans were sent off to America. It will be touch and go whether they will be back in time.”

  Madeline surged to her feet, the baby held to her shoulder, contentedly sucking on the muslin of her day dress. “I hate all this talk of war,” she said. “Can we talk of nothing else here?”

  “You should not have left England,” her twin said unsympathetically. “You have done nothing but grumble ever since you arrived, Mad. You should have stayed in London with Mama as she wanted you to do. And with Uncle William and Aunt Viola. Anna is making her come-out this spring, is she not?”

  “And bemoaning the fact that you are not there to see her,” she said. “But you know I could not have stayed. Not with you here, Dom. Why did you not sell out when you came home from Spain, as I begged you to do? I think you enjoy all the killing and all the danger to your own life.”

  “If you really think that, you must be stupid,” he said. “No one willingly puts himself into a position to stare death in the face. There is such a thing as loyalty to one’s country and belief in certain principles.”

  “I just think you have done enough,” Madeline said. “It should be someone else’s turn now, Dom. And you don’t have to bring talk of war into the house, anyway.”

  “I have come from Charlie Simpson’s house,” he said. “Mrs. Simpson has just come back from England with Charlie’s young daughter. You should be more like her, Mad. Charlie and I sometimes sit and talk for hours about military matters, and I have never heard one word of complaint from her or one hint that perhaps her husband should sell out. And he has been in for longer than twenty years.”

  “Then she must be a very foolish woman,” Madeline said. “Perhaps she does not care for him a great deal.”

  “Don’t argue in front of the children,” Lord Amberley said in the quiet tones that had always quelled the twins’ frequent differences of opinion.

  The countess spoke almost simultaneously. “Captain Simpson must be very glad to have his daughter safely here,” she said. “And how reassuring it must have been for the girl to have an older woman with whom to travel.”

  Lord Eden laughed. “I don’t think Mrs. Simpson is any older than Mad and I, Alexandra,” he said. “She must have been little more than a girl when Charlie married her five years ago. I am glad to see her home again. I will be taking tea there tomorrow, by the way. And I have told her that I want to present her to you and Mad. I hope you will not mind.”

  “Of course not,” the countess said. “I will be delighted to meet the captain’s wife. I like him, Dominic.”

  “I take it I am to learn from her how to be docile,” Madeline said, “and how to accept male stupidity. I heartily dislike her already, Dom. She must be totally lacking in spirit.”

  Lord Eden raised his eyebrows. “If you had seen her in Spain,” he said, “living in a tent, tramping through mud, fording swollen rivers on horseback, saying good-bye to Charlie every day, never knowing if she would see him again, you would not say anything so foolish, Mad.”

  “The children will be back in the nursery after tea,” the earl said with quiet authority. “The two of you may go at it then, if you wish. You may even come to blows. Alex and I will be obliging enough to remove ourselves beyond earshot. But for now you will be civil. And I see the tea tray has arrived.”

  “With bread and jam included for Christopher,” the countess said. “If I were you, Dominic, I should make a quick trip upstairs to change out of your uniform. I believe my son still has his heart set on feeding you.”

  “Do you, old pal?” Lord Eden asked, grinning down at his nephew. “Here you go, then, to Papa while I go and dress appropriately.”

  Madeline set the baby in the countess’s arms. “I’ll pour,” she said, seating herself behind the teapot. “Edmund, is there really going to be a battle? It is not just a show of strength to discourage Bonaparte? There is really going to be fighting?”

  “It is hard to say with any certainty,” her brother said gently. “We will just have to wait and hope, dear. And trust the Duke of Wellington, of course.”

  “Oh,” she said, putting down the teapot with only one cup poured, “how childish of me to ask you such a question, Edmund. Of course there will be another battle. You know it and I know it. One more battle for Dom.”

  “He has escaped well so far,” the countess said. “Flesh wounds only.”

  “If he dies,” Madeline said, jumping to her feet, “I shall die too. I can’t live without Dom, Edmund, I can’t live without him.”

  Lord Amberley rose hastily to his feet and crossed the room to take her into his arms. “In all probability you will not be asked to,” he said. “But we both know—and Alex too—why we came out here this spring when we would far prefer to be in London for the Season or at home in Amberl
ey. We came to be with Dominic. We must make the best of the time we have with him, Madeline. It is always so with loved ones. Any of us could die at any moment. We must be sure to enjoy one another’s love while we have it.”

  “Sometimes I hate you, Edmund,” she said, putting her arms up around his neck and her cheek against his. “You can be so damnably wise. Now, where is that teapot?”

  She was pouring tea with a determinedly steady hand when her twin returned to the drawing room.

  ELLEN SANK DOWN onto the sofa beside her husband and snuggled her head against his shoulder as his arm came around her. She had just seen Jennifer to her room for the night.

  “She is very tired,” she said. “The journey was exhausting for her, Charlie, and she was dreadfully sick on the boat. An early night will do her good.”

  “I still find it hard to believe that such a pretty little thing can be my own daughter,” he said. “Imagine, Ellen.”

  “I am happy for you,” she said. “She is truly delightful.”

  He looked down at her and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, lass,” he said. “Boasting about my daughter and all that. Have I caught you on the raw?”

  “No,” she said hastily. “No, you must not be forever thinking that, Charlie. It does not matter. It really does not. I have you, and you are all I need. And I have Jennifer too. She is fond of me, I believe. You must not always think I mind.”

  “It must have been that injury I had the year before I married you,” he said. “That is what the old sawbones said anyway, Ellen. I can’t think why else. I’m sorry about it, though. For your sake. I would have liked…”

  She lifted her head and kissed his cheek. “Charlie,” she said, “if I had a child, I would not be able to travel about with you so easily. I could not bear to be separated from you. You know that. I am not unhappy. I am not. And maybe the fault is in me, anyway. We do not know for sure.”

  “I missed you,” he said, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head.

  “And I you,” she said. “And I missed everyone else too. I am looking forward to seeing everyone. Is Mrs. Byng feeling better? I must call on her tomorrow. It was good to see Lord Eden. He is quite like one of our family, is he not?”

  “Do you think he fancies Jennifer?” he asked. “I think she fancies him.”

  “That would be hardly surprising,” she said. “And I think it is very likely that he will be taken with her too. He will come to tea tomorrow? He will not feel that he is unwelcome now that we are no longer alone?”

  “He’ll come,” he said.

  Ellen put one arm about his waist. “I don’t ever want to go away from you again,” she said. “I don’t mind too much this time because it was for Jennifer. But there cannot be another reason good enough to separate us, can there, Charlie?”

  “No, lass,” he said. “We won’t be apart again.”

  “There is going to be fighting, isn’t there?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “We will have to wait and see.”

  “That means there is going to be fighting,” she said. “Oh, I hoped so very hard that it was finally over.”

  “It is, almost,” he said. “One more defeat, and no one will be hearing any more from old Boney.”

  “One more,” she said with a sigh. “One too many.”

  “Just one more,” he said, putting one hand beneath her chin and lifting her face to his. “And it won’t be just yet, lass. We have time. Shall we go to bed early too?”

  She smiled at him. “Yes,” she said. “I am tired. And I shall be able to sleep well for the first time in three weeks. The bed has felt dreadfully empty without you.”

  “Mine too,” he said. “Come on, then, lass, we’ll put each other to sleep, shall we?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Charlie, I love you so very much.”

  “Double that for me, my treasure,” he said, kissing her on the lips.

  CAPTAIN AND MRS. SIMPSON HAD BEEN INVITED to the concert, ball, and supper to be given at the Salle du Grand Concert by the Duke of Wellington the following week. And they had procured an invitation for Jennifer, too. They accepted the invitations, though the captain usually avoided as many formal social engagements as he possibly could. As he told Ellen, when one had a grown-up daughter’s happiness to see to, one occasionally had to make a few sacrifices.

  The ball would be Jennifer’s introduction to society, Ellen thought. She was somewhat surprised, then, to find that the week leading up to the ball soon became crammed with activity. And only some of it was of her own making. She took Jennifer with her the day after their arrival in Brussels to visit her friend Mrs. Byng and a few other wives of officers in her husband’s regiment. And she was pleased to see Jennifer making friends with Mrs. Cleary, a young ensign’s wife fresh from England, and with the two young daughters of Mrs. Slattery.

  Lord Eden came to tea, as promised, and brought with him an invitation from his sister-in-law to take tea with her and Lady Madeline Raine the following afternoon.

  “I shall be off-duty early tomorrow,” Lord Eden said. “I shall escort you and Miss Simpson there myself if I may, ma’am. I don’t suppose you would care to come along too, would you, Charlie?” His eyes twinkled as he asked the question. He knew his friend as well as Ellen did.

  “I think I can entrust my ladies to your care, Eden,” Captain Simpson said with a drowning look that had both his wife and his friend laughing.

  “You don’t mind, lass?” he asked Ellen later when they were alone.

  “I don’t mind, Charlie,” she said, laughing and wrapping her arms about his neck. “Actually, it gives me a warm feeling to know that you trust me to take your daughter about. Almost as if I really am her mother.”

  Jennifer, who was not at all shy by nature, was definitely shy with Lord Eden, Ellen discovered. She blushed and talked very little. It was doubtless because he was so very handsome and splendid and self-assured. But he did fancy the girl. He looked at her with open appreciation and made every effort to converse with her and set her at her ease.

  Nevertheless, as they walked through the streets of Brussels on their way to the Earl of Amberley’s house, Ellen on Lord Eden’s left arm, Jennifer on his right, it was with Ellen that he conversed most of the time. They talked about Spain, and told Jennifer some of the funnier anecdotes they remembered. And they talked about Brussels, and pointed out to Jennifer some of the uniforms and the regiments to which their wearers belonged.

  Ellen had never talked with Lord Eden a great deal. She had almost always been a quiet audience to the conversations he held with Charlie. But he was a pleasant and a charming companion, she found. So very suitable for Jennifer. And it was no wonder that Jennifer blushed and was tongue-tied. He was very splendidly tall, and his arm beneath her hand was firm and well-muscled. Ellen felt an impish sort of amusement at witnessing more than one female head turn in their direction and gaze wistfully at Lord Eden and enviously at her and Jennifer.

  Lady Amberley and Lady Madeline Raine were not to entertain them alone, Ellen was surprised to find when they arrived. The Earl of Amberley was in the drawing room too, as were his two children.

  “I hope you do not mind the children being present, Mrs. Simpson,” the countess said after Lord Eden had made the introductions. “My husband has one eccentricity that I fully endorse. It is that when we are at home to tea, our children join us in the drawing room, even if the Queen of England is our guest.”

  “Of course I do not mind,” Ellen said. “Oh, what a beautiful little girl you have. She is like you.” She glanced at the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty of the countess. “May I hold her?”

  Lady Amberley sat down beside her, smiling, while Ellen held the baby. Jennifer was chattering eagerly with Lady Madeline and the Earl of Amberley, who must have seemed far less threatening to her than his more splendid brother, though he was almost equally handsome. He also had a very kindly face and a quiet manner.

  There was a special fee
ling about a baby—a softness, a living warmth—and a special smell, of powder and milk. Lady Caroline Raine regarded Ellen from wide, unblinking dark eyes. Ellen felt a little like crying.

  “You are so very fortunate,” she said quietly, looking up at the countess.

  “Yes.” Lady Amberley regarded her curiously before smiling and talking of other matters.

  The half-hour of their visit seemed to fly by. Ellen liked Lord Eden’s family, all of whom had made an effort to be friendly, though Lady Madeline had spoken more with Jennifer than with herself. When Lord Eden rose to escort them back home again—though Ellen protested that he had no need to do so, as she was there to chaperone Jennifer—the Earl of Amberley also got to his feet and extended a hand to her.

  “We would be honored if you and the captain and Miss Simpson would join us at the opera tomorrow evening, ma’am,” he said.

  Ellen’s eyes met Lord Eden’s, and he grinned.

  “Poor Charlie!” he said. “It would almost serve him right for not coming this afternoon if you accepted for him, ma’am. I am afraid that Charlie Simpson marches into battle with far greater eagerness than he attends any social function, Edmund. But I hope Mrs. and Miss Simpson will accept.”

  “We would be delighted, my lord,” Ellen said, glancing at the flushed and eager face of Jennifer.

  “Colonel Huxtable is also to be our guest,” the earl said. “I shall invite young Lieutenant Penworth as well, perhaps, to make up numbers.”

  Ellen smiled her agreement.

  And so, she found, the arrival of Jennifer was having an immediate effect upon her own life. For the previous five years she had lived as quiet and domesticated a life as her husband’s. And she had never had a complaint. She was never happier, she had always felt, than when she was at home alone with Charlie, his arm about her shoulders, talking about the day’s events, or sometimes reading a book.

  But there was something exhilarating about being included in an evening party. The opera with the Earl and Countess of Amberley! And with Lord Eden and Lady Madeline. And the colonel and the lieutenant, who were unknown to her. It all sounded very grand.