The Lady And The Military Man_Conquer My Heart

by Penelope Redmont

  Later, Janet was never sure how it happened. One moment she was walking with the major, and the next his hands were on her cheeks, and he had lowered his head. She blinked up at him, and then his mouth met hers.

  Soft. His lips were very soft. That was her only thought. Why were they so soft? She expected them to be harder, and yet they were soft and warm. She found herself moving closer to him and lifting her hands to his shoulders.

  Then she realized what she was doing, and stepped back abruptly in confusion. Her gaze widening, she stared at him. With the light of a flambeaux behind him, his face was shadowed, and she couldn’t read his expression.

  Every thought had flown from her head.

  Then she remembered that others were walking in the garden, and glanced around. No one was close enough to see what had happened, she thought with relief.

  Finally she found her voice. “What… what are you doing?" A silly question, she thought. He was a flirt, and a rake. What did she think that he was doing?

  He shook his head and stared at the ground. He ran his hand through his hair. "My apologies… I couldn't resist you."

  She felt an alarming impulse to giggle. Hysteria, she told herself sternly.

  "Jane… will you become my wife?"

  What? For a moment, she thought that she’d misheard him. She replayed his words in her mind. Then her composure completely deserted her, and she blurted: "No, of course not — whatever do you mean?"

  He turned, and stared across the garden, then shook his head. “Good heavens — I’m making a proper mull of this. I didn't mean to kiss you. I just couldn't resist it.”

  "I must return to the house,” she said stiffly. She longed to rush back to the house, but refused to flee.

  Whatever was the matter with her? In her time bringing out young ladies, she’d been self-assured. She’d never allowed anyone to touch her. Ever.

  It was the gown, she decided. She cleared her throat. Where was Doyle? She looked around frantically and tried to make herself move but her legs didn't want to obey her. Kelly had kissed her. She tried to push the memory of his lips out of her mind.

  "Stay for a moment… I know that I’ve shocked you. Will you take time to think about it? I do realize that you had made up your mind not to marry. But there is a connection between us — you must feel it."

  Jane bit her lip. How could this happen? Why did he imagine that he could kiss her? "I'm sorry, I need to return to the house immediately."

  As soon as she could force herself to move.

  "Why should you not marry?"

  "I'm very conscious of the honor that you do me in asking me –"

  "Oh for goodness sake! You’re treating me like Horace Killock.”

  Suddenly Doyle loomed beside her. “Lady Jane?" He extended his arm to her. “You’ve recovered… I’ll take you back to the house."

  She didn’t look up at the two men. She felt the tension between them. Then she rested her fingers on Doyle’s sleeve. "Thank you Mr. Doyle," she said politely.

  Putting his hand over hers, Doyle walked Jane past Kelly, then looked down at her. "My lady?" He sounded concerned.

  Her throat felt tight, and she swallowed hard. "Thank you," she repeated.

  "Of course."

  By the time they’d reached the house, she’d recovered sufficiently to know that she couldn’t enter the ballroom immediately. “I’ll go up to my rooms for a moment.”

  He made no comment, and she was thankful for that.

  By the time she’d spent a little time in her dressing room smoothing her hair, the heat had cooled from her face.

  She went to the salon to check on Lady Margaret and Henry. The young people were playing cards, and greeted her cheerfully, then returned to their play.

  Realizing that she was putting off entering the ballroom, Jane forced herself onward.

  “There you are my dear,” Catherine greeted her. “How do you feel now?”

  “Much better,” Jane said, smiling.

  She knew that she looked calm and assured. Now, all she had to do was keep all thoughts of Kelly from her mind. She prayed that he wouldn’t ask her to dance, but that was a foolish hope.

  Half an hour later, he stood in front of her.

  Horace Killock

  Jane and Kelly met and parted in the figures of the dance. The country dance didn't allow for long conversations, but she quickly became aware that Kelly was studying her intently.

  She tried to forget that she was dancing with him but of course that was a futile effort. His presence and the touch of his hand made it impossible. She had been rude to him she realized, but whatever had he been thinking? He couldn’t make a game of her — she wasn’t a woman like Lady Gamlinghay.

  "I owe you an apology," he said. He smiled broadly, but his eyes were concerned.

  She smiled just as broadly for the onlookers, and said, "certainly not. You surprised me."

  They parted again, until the figures brought them together. "It was maladroit of me.”

  "Yes," she said. Her smile was genuine.

  "Will you forgive me?"

  "Of course. It’s quite forgotten.”

  "Can you do that?"

  She didn't respond. She focused on keeping her face impassive, smiling occasionally at Kelly and at the other dancers, as was expected. It would be impossible to forget. Kelly had asked her to marry him, and she had refused him so abruptly that he had to be astonished at her rudeness.

  She was never rude — he’d called himself maladroit, but her own behavior had been impossible… She’d spent years schooling young women, and hadn’t learned anything.

  At last, mercifully, the ball was at an end, and Jane had a headache in truth. Kelly escorted her back to Catherine, bowed to her, and was gone.

  Jane hid her feelings, and suffered the throbbing at her temples while the guests either departed, or retired. As soon as she could, Jane escaped to her rooms.

  "My lady? Whatever is the matter? You look so pale." Lizzie stared at Jane when she entered her rooms.

  "I'm tired — I had a headache earlier, and it’s returned. Could you make me a tisane?”

  “Of course.”

  Lizzie helped her out of her gown and unlaced her stays. Within a few minutes, Jane had undressed, washed, and was in bed. Lizzie hurried downstairs to make her a tisane to ease her headache.

  Jane closed her eyes. She was glad the evening was over. It was the worst evening of her life. Had she made a mistake in refusing Kelly? As soon as she had the thought, she realized that that was complete foolishness.

  Marriage? What a ridiculous notion. She couldn’t and wouldn’t marry. No husband could be expected to rescue Kennystowe, and she couldn’t leave Alex and her sisters — she had to help them. Even if they lost Kennystowe, she had to do everything she could.

  Moreover, she liked her position as Lady Delmere’s estate secretary. How could she give that up for a life on Kelly’s York estate? She shuddered. She wasn’t a woman who’d be happy on her husband’s country estate, breeding children.

  She was well aware that that was usually the lot of wives. They lived on their husband’s country estate for most of the year, then a sojourn in town for the season, if none of the children were ill, and if the husband was prepared to have his wife in town, spending his money… And if she didn’t die in childbirth.

  She shuddered. Such a life didn’t bear thinking of. She was being ridiculous. She had a life — her own life. She didn’t need to marry; to become a possession.

  When he reached his rooms, Kelly decided that he would leave for London immediately. He didn't have the patience to wait until morning, and he knew that he wouldn't sleep. He ordered his valet to pack, and sent a message to the stables, to ready his horses.

  He’d frightened her. No wonder. She’d been upset when Lady Gamlinghay accosted her, and no doubt thought that the woman was still his mistress. She hadn't been his mistress for months, but hadn't ceased her attempts to get him back.
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br />   The idea that Lady Gamlinghay had spoken to Jane enraged him. He’d spoken to his erstwhile mistress, and had left the woman in no doubt that if she dared to do anything like that again, he would speak to her husband.

  He had no intention of fighting a duel over her and so he told her. Nor would her husband wish to duel him.

  He'd meant to propose to Jane, but not until the house party was over. He was sure that the combination of Lady Gamlinghay’s machinations, and his own stupidity, had given Jane a disgust of him.

  Next morning, Jane woke feeling much more like herself. Her headache had gone. However, as she’d suspected, she had a bruise on her arm from Lady Gamlinghay’s fingers.

  She decided that she’d breakfast in her rooms, because she wanted to be sure that Kelly had left for London before she went downstairs.

  She’d barely managed to eat a slice of toast before Catherine swept into her sitting room.

  "Jane? Are you well?"

  “Much better.”

  “What happened last night?”

  "I'm not sure what you mean – I had a headache."

  “Doyle tells me that Kelly left for London last night. He said that the man was in a temper, but wouldn't speak about it."

  Jane shook her head and remained silent.

  "Well? What happened between you?"

  "He – he offered for me."

  "Did he indeed? And what did you answer?" Catherine lifted her hand, and sniffed. "No, don't bother responding. I know what happened. You refused him, did you not?"

  Jane rubbed her temples. She sighed. "Yes I did. And I did it most – he called himself maladroit, but it was I who behaved badly. He just shocked me after Lady Gamlinghay –"

  "What happened with that woman?"

  "I lost my temper with her. She warned me away from the major, and I don't know how it happened but I just suddenly…”

  "Oh, how delightful."

  Jane stared at Catherine and couldn't speak for a moment. Catherine, she saw, was looking very well. Her color was high, her hair was swept up underneath the cunning hat, and she was wearing a new morning gown.

  "Kelly has feelings for you.” Catherine chuckled. “He has proposed — you should realize how amazing that is."

  Jane bit her lip.

  "He'll ask you again, never fear. You’re having second thoughts about your refusal, are you not? You do realize that Lady Gamlinghay hasn't been his mistress for many months? That's why she's running around after him. She wants to get him back."

  "I've always said that I wouldn't marry – and I don't think that I've changed my mind. I've Lady Margaret's come out to manage next year, and I am Lady Delmere's estate secretary. I don't have time to marry." Nor had she any wish to marry, she thought.

  Suddenly there was a tap on the door. Catherine opened it, and took a letter from Cormac. "Jane, it’s for you…” She handed the letter to Jane, then called Cormac back. “How did the letter arrive? It’s too early for the morning mail, surely?”

  “It came by special messenger, ma’am.”

  Jane took the letter and frowned. She recognized the hand which had written the direction. “It's from our doctor at Kennystowe. Why would he write to me?”

  “Read it, my dear."

  Jane opened the letter. “Oh — he says that Dorinda is ill, and that I should come home immediately.” She handed the letter to Catherine.

  “Pack my dear — just a few things for the journey. Cormac —” she turned to the footman, who was still waiting. “Send for Lizzie, she’s to come and pack for herself and Jane. At once, hurry… Jane, I’ll speak with Ferrymore.”

  Then she swept from the room, leaving Jane staring down at the letter.

  Catherine believed that when action was required, you took action.

  Within two hours of receiving the letter, she’d sent Jane on her way to York in Lord Ferrymore’s carriage. Ferrymore had post horses all along the route and Jane would be home in a matter of days.

  Jane and Kelly… Catherine decided that she would write to Kelly. She hoped that Wellington hadn't set him a task which would occupy him for months, or take him out of England. Unfortunately, that was very likely.

  She would speak to Wellington about that. If Kelly intended marrying, he needed his freedom. After all, he’d resigned his commission. Wellington must let him go.

  She sat at her her desk in her rooms, and began the letter. It would be brief. Men like Kelly never read long letters.

  She didn't use a salutation.

  Jane has left for York. Her sister is ill, so she may be in York for a time, if she stays to nurse her.

  I am very happy that you've decided that you wish to marry Jane. I'm convinced that your union would be most happy. I will do everything that I can to promote your cause.

  You will be pleased to realize that you flustered her, and that no matter what she said, she is inclined to accept you.

  A hint, and I hope you’ll forgive me for it — remember that Jane is most inexperienced.

  She underlined “inexperienced” three times.

  Of course Catherine realized that she was meddling unforgivably in Jane's concerns. She didn't care. She liked Jane. And as her sister Elaine had pointed out, Jane needed her own home and family. She just needed Catherine's help in bringing that happy state about.

  Lord Ferrymore’s carriage was comfortable, and Lizzie dozed the hours away, but Jane couldn’t relax.

  Alex and Edie would not have sent for her, if she were not needed, but there was something about the doctor’s letter which puzzled her. Finally she realized what it was. “Lord Alex”, the doctor had written. Why had he done that? He’d known Alex since he was a boy, and had never referred to him as “Lord” Alex… Strange.

  They would be on the road for several days. Lord Ferrymore had been most kind. Not only had he provided her with two footmen, he’d also assured her that his coachman would make all arrangements for their changes of horses, as well as for their meals and nightly accommodation.

  “No thanks necessary, my lady. I’ve horses just eating their heads off doing nothing!” He said, and pressed her hand.

  Lady Ferrymore had hugged her. “The coachman has orders to find accommodation for the men if you’re returning within a few days. Then he’ll take you to London, because Catherine means to return there next week… All will be well, my dear.”

  At four o’clock, the coachman told Jane that they'd covered a sufficient distance, and they’d rest for the night at The Blue Boar. “A comfortable hostelry, my lady. We’re better here than at a smaller inn — better for you, and for the horses. With fresh horses, we can make an early start in the morning.”

  The Blue Boar was a coaching inn, which was large, and very busy. The coachman had hired rooms for both Jane and for her maid, as well as for the other servants.

  “You’ll be rested tomorrow. I’ll order hot water and breakfast for 7 in the morning, then we’ll aim to be on the road by 8 o'clock. We'll be just another day and night on the road I hope, barring mishaps."

  Jane had never been treated so well on her journeys to and from York. She usually travelled by the mail, which meant that often it she didn't even get a meal. Traveling in Lord Ferrymore’s carriage was sheer luxury. If she hadn't been so concerned about Dorinda, she would have enjoyed herself.

  By the time Lizzie and Jane had had dinner, and Jane had taken a short stroll to stretch her legs, she was tired. She told Lizzie that she would retire, and settled down to sleep.

  Then something woke her.

  Jane sat up in bed stared around the room. The small lamp which Lizzie had set on the table near the window glowed. The noise from the taproom had abated somewhat, but there was still a low hum of conversation and the occasional shout or laugh. As she listened, she heard a horse galloping down the road, then slowing to a trot as it entered the coach yard.

  She realized that she had been asleep for some hours when she picked up her small pocket watch from her bedside table.
It was a few minutes before midnight.

  She yawned, adjusted the pillows, then settled back under the covers. Tomorrow would be a long day on the road.

  Then she heard the sound again — the rattle of the doorknob. That was what had woken her.

  Someone was at the door. Jane climbed out of bed. "Lizzie? Is that you?"

  She watched the doorknob turning.

  Lizzie would have knocked surely?

  She hesitated. Was it Lizzie? She was at a coaching inn, so it might not be — perhaps a guest had mistaken his room… But perhaps Lizzie was ill. Lizzie had insisted on eating on the Dover sole, even though Jane had warned her against it.

  She walked toward the door and had almost reached it when it was flung open.

  Horace Killock…

  Jane was so shocked that she couldn't speak. She stared at the man. He appeared very large in the small room but nevertheless it was a challenge to believe the evidence of her eyes. He advanced on her, and she realized that she dressed in a thin night gown. She backed away from him.

  He closed the door. "Get dressed,” he snapped in his reedy voice.

  Jane opened her mouth to speak. He was holding a pistol. She gaped at him.

  "My lady, get dressed.” His thin tone was hard. "See this pistol? I’d as soon shoot you as not. That will make it harder for me to get you out of the inn — but I promise you that I'll get you out and into my coach before anyone has time to come upstairs to check on the noise."

  Jane took a deep breath. Horace Killock. “Why are you here?"

  "Tommy Keaton paid me to bring you to London,” his dark eyes glittered above his plump cheeks. He shook his head at her. “Don’t look so frightened, drat you. I don't intend to harm you, but I will if you force me. Get dressed! Use that screen there —get behind it if you value your modesty."

  She folded her arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You must be mad to even imagine it. Get out of my room at once, otherwise I'll scream — loudly."