by Laura Landon
“He’ll be here,” Lydia said with a confident smile on her face. “He had an important meeting and was obviously detained.”
Gabriel expected Lydia to be anxious for Culbertson to arrive, but only Lady Emmeline glanced toward the stairs. He thought he might comment on Liddy’s lack of interest but the Marquess of Bendendine and the Earl of Canesport chose that moment to interrupt.
“The Chancellor’s Lady docked this morning with more soldiers returning from the Crimea,” Bendendine said, placing one hand on his protruding stomach. “It won’t be long before we have all our boys home.”
Gabriel pulled his attention away from Lydia and Lady Emmeline. “Yes. Except for the young men who will never return.”
Bendendine cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that is the tragedy of war. There will always be fatalities.”
“But I dare say we showed them where the strength in Europe lay,” the slightly inebriated Canesport slurred. “The Russians should never have been so foolish as to think they could battle us and win.”
That remark was followed by the enthusiastic murmur of agreement and the nodding of heads. More onlookers joined the circle. Harrison was among them.
“Everyone knows the war only lasted as long as it did because of Russia’s disregard for her soldiers’ safety,” a portly gentleman said.
“Our soldiers have always shown themselves well,” the Earl of Hollingsworth added. “And our officers are the finest in the world. Always have been.”
“Do you agree, Major Talbot?” Bendendine asked.
Of all the men he’d met this evening, Bendendine had been the most curious, had been the most interested when Gabriel was asked a question.
“No, sir. I’m afraid I don’t.”
A deafening stillness silenced the group, then everyone in the growing circle turned toward him with frowns on their foreheads.
“Are you saying that our soldiers didn’t show themselves well?” Canesport bristled.
“Absolutely not,” Gabriel began. “The soldiers who fought in the Crimea were the bravest, most noble men ever to have put on British uniforms.”
“Then what are you implying, Major?”
He looked into Harrison’s hooded gaze and fought the war waging within him. He wasn’t sure if this was the time or place to say what needed to be said, but he owed it to the tens of thousands of men who’d died to tell their story. Finally, Harrison answered his internal debate for him.
“I think you should explain yourself,” Harrison said. “Many of the men here tonight have no idea what you, or my brother, or the rest of the men we sent to fight in the Crimea endured. I think the world deserves to know.”
Gabriel began cautiously, explaining in detail the conditions in the Crimea. The longer he talked, the larger the crowd of men, and even some women, grew. Mostly they listened, but a few asked questions. A majority seemed interested, and all were appalled.
“Are you saying the Russians were more concerned with their men than we were?” Canesport asked, his tone defensive.
“What I’m saying is that our men arrived on foreign soil totally unprepared, and were forced to endure hardships that were intolerable. Perhaps the next time we are so eager to send our men to fight, they should be provided military equipment that isn’t outdated, and we should make sure they don’t have to scavenge the clothes off their fallen comrades’ bodies because their own threadbare uniforms can’t keep them warm.”
More eager guests crowded around them and a voice from the back of the circle encouraged him to continue. He did.
“Before we abandon our men on foreign shores, we should make sure we provide winter quarters for our soldiers so they aren’t forced to live in the open during the freezing winters without any more covering than the canvas of their tents. And that they are at least given a heavy coat so they don’t have to chop tree roots from the frozen ground because that is all that is left for firewood.”
“What do you suggest we do about this?” a quiet voice filled with authority asked, and Gabriel lifted his gaze.
The gentleman was tall and broad-shouldered, and held himself in a regal stance that exhibited an undeniable air of authority.
Gabriel had no doubt he faced the Marquess of Culbertson.
CHAPTER 8
So, this was the man Lydia would marry. The man who would give her a house filled with laughter and children. Who would come home to find her waiting for him with open arms.
Gabriel studied him, thinking to find some flaw. He didn’t. He only saw a keen intelligence he couldn’t help but admire. He could see why she was enamored of him. They were perfectly suited to each other.
“Major Talbot,” Harrison said stepping between them. “Allow me to present the Marquess of Culbertson.”
Culbertson inclined his head. “Major. Thank you for bringing these atrocities to our attention. Now, how do you suggest we go about creating reform?”
Gabriel had heard enough from Lydia to know Culbertson’s reputation and influence was admired throughout England. He also knew he had within hearing one of the most powerful men in London. The opportunity to bring about the necessary changes for the soldiers willing to lay down their lives for their country was here and now. No matter what his personal feelings were for Culbertson, he knew he couldn’t waste this opportunity to help the men who would fight in future wars.
He rose from his stool and faced the marquess. “Thanks to the Times of London and the pictures they ran as evidence of what was happening, conditions improved the last year. Alixis Soyer, the head chef of the Reform Club in London, arrived and there was finally adequate food to feed the starving soldiers. Then, Miss Florence Nightingale arrived with her forty nurses, and the wounded and dying at least had someone to make their last few hours more comfortable, or simply hold their hand while they died.”
A few soft sniffles echoed in the silence that followed Gabriel’s last statement. Several ladies dabbed at their eyes, and even a few of the men.
“But until legislation is enacted,” he said, casting his gaze over the crowd listening to him, “there is no guarantee anything will improve for the next group of soldiers sent to protect Britain’s interests.”
Culbertson turned toward Harrison. “Is there any connection to this and the reason you have asked to speak before the House of Lords when it opens, Etherington?”
Harrison nodded. “After reading the horrors in the Times, and listening to the firsthand accounts from my brother and Major Talbot, I feel the need to reform our military system is desperate. If there hadn’t been such a public outcry from the families of those soldiers who’d written of the conditions in their letters, we wouldn’t have seen even the small improvements we did. It’s time the government took responsibility for the soldiers they send to war.”
Applause broke out from the crowd who’d been listening to Gabriel and Etherington.
Culbertson spoke up again. “I agree. If you need someone to stand at your side, Etherington, you can count on me.”
“Me, too,” Bendendine said. “I haven’t had a good cause to fight for in a long time. I can’t think of one more worthy. Will you agree to be on hand should the need arise, Major?”
“Of course,” he answered, then lowered himself to the stool a footman pushed closer. His leg ached abominably and he knew he’d be lucky if he could make it out of bed tomorrow. But he’d accomplished the goal he’d set for tonight. With Harrison and Culbertson leading the revolt for change, success was almost guaranteed.
“We’ll meet at the club tomorrow and begin our strategy,” the Earl of Canesport said, the rallying cry already spreading through Chisolmwood’s ballroom.
En masse, the men followed Harrison to the other side of the room, leaving Lydia, her friend Emmeline, and the Marquess of Culbertson standing with Gabriel.
“Thank you, Major,” Culbertson said when they were alone. “What you said tonight did more to further the cause for military reform than any of a dozen speeches Eth
erington or I could have given before the House.”
Culbertson looked to where the men enthusiastically formulated their plan. “And we couldn’t have hoped for more influential champions than the men here tonight. Every future soldier owes you a great deal.”
“I’m glad I could play a part. Change is long overdue.”
“Anyone with a son or father or husband over there knows how horrible it was.” Culbertson took a glass from a passing footman’s tray. He took a second glass and handed it to Gabriel. “But we are being terribly neglectful, Major.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “We’ve ignored these lovely ladies unmercifully.”
“Nonsense,” Lydia said, answering his warm smile with one of her own. “Both your and Major Talbot’s opinions are fascinating. Who better to champion such a cause than two men with your experience and knowledge?”
“Oh, yes,” Lady Emmeline added, her eyes gleaming in adoration. “The welfare of our soldiers is vitally important. Those of us who don’t have a voice appreciate the stand you are willing to take.”
Culbertson’s gaze focused on Lady Emmeline, then moved to Lydia and his smile broadened. “Be that as it may, we’ve ignored you long enough. I’m sure you’d both like a glass of punch. Allow me to escort you to a refreshment table.” He offered Lydia his arm.
Gabriel saw how naturally Lydia placed her hand on his sleeve and a knot twisted in his gut. He was jealous and he had no right to be. He’d given up any claim on Lydia more than a year ago.
“Would you care to join us, Major?” Culbertson offered Lady Emmeline his other arm.
“Thank you, no. I prefer to get some fresh air.”
Culbertson smiled. “Of course. Being confined indoors is often difficult for a military man. We’ll talk later?”
He nodded, then watched Culbertson lead Lydia and Lady Emmeline across the room.
His leg ached with more vengeance than before and he stood cautiously. He waved away the footman who stood nearby in case he needed assistance, then steadied himself on his canes and limped to the double doors that led out onto the terrace.
The air was crisp and cold, the terrace empty. In warmer weather couples would stream outside for a breath of fresh air or a secluded walk down one of the garden paths. Tonight was too chilly for anyone to venture out.
He was glad he was alone. Alone to evaluate his feelings for the man with whom Lydia would spend the rest of her life. He wanted to dislike him, wanted to consider him the enemy. Instead, what he felt was…admiration.
He rested his canes against the stone balustrade and placed his palms flat against the cool railing. He should be relieved that she would marry someone who was a perfect match for her. And he was. Culbertson was honorable and well respected, and his father was a duke. Which meant that… Gabriel dropped his head between his hands and closed his eyes. …one day Lydia would be his—
“Are you all right?”
Gabriel cast a slow glance over his shoulder to where she stood in the doorway. “Yes, I’m fine. Please, go back inside before you catch your death of cold.”
She didn’t leave, but took a step onto the terrace and closed the door behind her.
“I was certain I’d find you out here. Austin used to get the look I saw on your face earlier. Within minutes he could be found outside.”
Gabriel looked up into the nighttime sky. “I remember a time when we both considered the out of doors enjoyable.”
“Yes, well, some things change.”
“Yes, they do.” He wished she’d do the sensible thing and leave. Being this close to her sent waves of desire through his body.
“You accomplished a great deal tonight.” She stepped toward him.
“I just brought a great travesty to the proper people’s attention.”
“Then it was worth attending the Duke of Chisolmwood’s affair.”
“Was it?”
She wasn’t wearing a shawl or anything else to protect her from the cold and Gabriel noticed her shiver. Why didn’t she just go inside? He wanted her with an intensity that drove him wild. He’d always wanted her, even after he knew he couldn’t have her.
She made no move to leave so he removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders.
“Thank you.”
She pulled the material close beneath her chin and their fingers touched. Even though she wore gloves, there was a warmth to her touch that traveled through him. “You shouldn’t be out here.” He dropped his hands from her and was thankful when she didn’t step away from him. He wanted her near. Wanted to take in every perfect feature, wanted to breathe in the clean lilac fragrance he’d always associate with her. Wanted to have her near him for a while longer.
“Why did you come out here?”
She pulled the lapels of his jacket tighter and held them with clenched fingers. “I wanted to talk to you privately.”
“You shouldn’t be here. Someone might see you.”
“No one will see me. No one is foolish enough to come out in weather like this except you.”
“And you.”
The expression on her face strengthened, the look in her eyes more determined. “I wanted to thank you for coming. For bringing the hardships our soldiers endured to everyone’s attention, and…” She paused. “For forcing the Duke of Chisolmwood to relinquish whatever he gave Harrison when we arrived. The expression on Harrison’s face said whatever it was meant a great deal to him. I wanted to thank you before you left Etherhouse.”
“What makes you think I’m leaving?”
“Do you deny it?”
He smiled. “No.”
“When?”
“In the morning.”
“Will you be all right?”
Worry lines etched her forehead and he wanted to brush his fingers against them to erase them. He wanted to touch her just once more, run his fingers over her features to reaffirm each small detail he’d filed to memory. He wanted to take her in his arms one last time and kiss her.
But he couldn’t. One kiss would never be enough. “I’ll be fine. Will you?”
His question surprised her. “What?”
“Will you be fine? Will you be happy?”
She inched away from him. “Of course I’ll be happy. I’m going to marry the Marquess of Culbertson and have the home and family I always dreamed of having.”
“And love?”
The expression on her face hardened. “Yes, I’ll have love. More love than I would have had, had I married you.”
He staggered under the weight of her words. He couldn’t let her think that. He couldn’t let her think that he didn’t love her.
“That’s not possible,” he ground through clenched teeth. “No one can love you more than I did. Than I do.”
She glared at him. “You’re too late, Gabriel. A year ago you could have had all the love I’m capable of giving any man, but not now. I don’t love you anymore.”
He closed the distance between them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. There’s only room in my heart for one man and you aren’t him. Never again.”
Her words acted like a knife to his heart. “If I could undo everything that happened a year ago I would. If I could take back what I said—”
It was too late. Even as he said the words, he knew it was too late. He could never win her back. But he didn’t want to leave her without holding her one more time. Without kissing her one more time. Even though he knew he was making the biggest mistake of his life, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. Then, with a ragged breath, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.
She didn’t respond and he moved his hands over her body, slowly, tenderly. Down her back, then up and over her shoulders. He cupped her head in his palm and nestled her even closer.
There was only his thin linen shirt to separate them, yet he wasn’t cold. His body burned as if on fire. Just having her this near him was like living a hell more unbearable than the anguish the war had forced him to endure.
Her lack of response threw him into another hell.
Her lips were cold and lifeless beneath his and he deepened his kiss. He opened his mouth over hers, his tongue outlining her lips, but she refused to open to him. He pressed a finger against her chin but she held firm and didn’t yield.
Realizing she shared none of his passion jolted him with the force of a punch to the gut. He lifted his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes.
“Are you finished?” She wiped her mouth with her gloved fingers and met his gaze.
Tears filled her eyes, pooling together until one wet drop silently slipped over the edge and tumbled down her cheek. With trembling fingers, she wiped it away the same as she had the imprint of his kisses.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find the strength to order his heart to continue beating, his mind to form the correct thoughts. “Yes, my lady. I apologize for my behavior. This will never happen again.”
She didn’t acknowledge his promise, but pulled his jacket from around her shoulders and handed it to him.
Their fingers touched when he took it from her and she jerked her hand away as if even through her gloves his touch burned her.
Something inside him died at that moment. He wanted to say her reaction to his kiss hadn’t bothered him, but it had - more than he thought he could live with.
He took a step away from her then stopped when a voice from across the terrace interrupted them.
“There you are. Allow me to escort you back inside, Lydia.”
“Yes, please.”
The Marquess of Culbertson stepped toward them and claimed the woman he’d been given to be his bride.
When they left he stood in the cold December air and relived another time when he’d lost everything.
CHAPTER 9
He was gone.
It had been three weeks and she should be glad he wasn’t there as a constant temptation. Glad he wasn’t there to consume her thoughts every second of her day. Glad she was free to concentrate on her future with the Marquess of Culbertson.
Except in the twenty-one days since he’d moved out of Etherhouse, she’d been able to concentrate on nothing but Gabriel. And the night he’d kissed her.
