by Cheryl Holt
She scowled at him. She didn’t need a gentle mount, and she wished he’d allow her to race off like the wind. But if the fenced area was all he would permit, then she would accept that meager offering.
He opened the stall and headed out to the corral, Laura and the mare following along.
Once they stepped outside, Captain Hastings went to grab a halter, and Laura huddled next to the horse. It leaned down so Laura could whisper in its ear. After a bit, it dawned on her that Captain Hastings was frowning.
“You’re talking to her.” He sounded stunned.
Laura simply shrugged. Of course she was talking to the mare. Robert had shown her how.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Captain Hastings asked. Laura merely peered up at him, and he worked it out quickly enough. “From Robert, right?”
She shrugged again, and he muttered, “I’ll be damned.”
Adults weren’t supposed to voice curse words in front of her, but she wasn’t distressed by it. She’d grown up around men—and Brinley—and she’d heard it all. No bad language ever surprised her.
“If Robert taught you,” he said, “I don’t imagine I have to worry about your skill level.”
He clasped her by the waist and hefted her onto the horse’s bare back. Laura didn’t wait for instructions, didn’t wait for him to lecture her like a little girl. Anyway, she’d already told the animal to gallop as fast as they could in the space available.
She kicked with her heels, and as the mare leapt to comply, Laura whooped with joy.
* * * *
Victoria Bennett knocked on the door of Captain Hastings’s rental. There had been gossip about the arrival of his two sisters and Miss Boyle who’d accompanied them. Gibraltar was a small place, and when a new female appeared, it caused a flurry of interest and speculation.
Victoria hadn’t yet laid eyes on the older sister, but the younger sister and Miss Boyle had been at the picnic. There hadn’t been a chance to chat though, and Victoria was determined to meet Miss Boyle.
She liked to have new friends, but also—with her personal situation more perilous by the minute—she was casting a wide net, hoping she would latch onto an option she hadn’t previously considered. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t let the army send her to London. She’d throw herself off a cliff before she’d agree.
She knocked again, and shortly, Miss Boyle answered herself, which wasn’t all that odd. While everyone associated with the garrison tried to maintain proper decorum and procedures, it wasn’t always possible.
“Hello,” Victoria said.
“Oh! Hello.”
“It’s terribly presumptuous of me, but I decided I should visit you and introduce myself.”
“I’m so glad you stopped by. Come in, come in!”
Miss Boyle looked genuinely pleased to see Victoria, so she must not have been aware of the stories that frequently circulated. She escorted Victoria into a cozy parlor.
It wasn’t the fanciest abode, but then, there wasn’t much lodging in Gibraltar that was incredibly grand. The wealthier merchants owned villas up on the hill, and when she’d been married to General Bennett, they’d had the best residence on the base, but that period was over.
He’d died, and though she’d loitered on the property, she’d eventually been ordered to remove herself from the premises so the next commander’s family could have it. Since then, she’d been shuffled off to a public hotel—at the army’s expense—which was embarrassing, but quite freeing too.
She was away from the prying eyes at the garrison, and most of the other guests were travelers. They never took the time to figure out who she was. She’d become invisible.
They seated themselves, and Miss Boyle said, “I’d offer you refreshments, but I just hired a cook, and she’s out purchasing supplies.”
“I don’t need refreshments.” Victoria studied the room. “This place isn’t too bad. Not compared to some I’ve observed. How are you settling in?”
“My head is spinning. Have I been here three days? Four? I can’t keep track.”
“If it’s only been four days, you’re succeeding spectacularly. Some women debark, and it’s weeks, even months, before they find suitable accommodations.”
“I made the journey with Captain Hastings’s sisters. You know him, I think.”
“Yes, I’ve known him for ages.”
She didn’t expound on their relationship. She and Captain Hastings had enjoyed many torrid kisses in dark corners, and she was always delighted to sneak off with him. He glanced in her direction, and she’d race to oblige him. Most any unattached female would—and even some who weren’t unattached.
She shouldn’t have ever trifled with him, but she was desperate, and she would ally herself with any fellow who might ultimately provide assistance. He’d insisted he wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean she’d quit trying.
“It’s actually his house,” Miss Boyle explained. “He’s been renting it with some other officers. I guess there was a fire at their barracks. Once we arrived, he didn’t want us to stay at a hotel, so he brought us here.”
“I’m told his roommates fled when they learned of it.”
Miss Boyle chuckled. “The notion of sharing quarters with three females was a bit much for them.”
“Men can be so silly.”
“I agree.”
“What lured you to Gibraltar?” Victoria asked. “There’s a rumor that you have a brother serving here.”
“Yes. Evan Boyle? Might you have met him?”
“No, sorry.”
“His ship is patrolling in the Mediterranean.”
“He’s a sailor then, so it’s no wonder I don’t know him. My husband was a snob, and he believed the army was superior to the navy. He didn’t like to fraternize with sailors.”
“How absurd.”
“I certainly thought so, but because of it, my male acquaintances are nearly all soldiers. How did you end up living with Captain Hastings? You mentioned he didn’t want you staying at a hotel, but are you related to him too?”
It was a cheeky question, but she couldn’t resist posing it. She was keen to discover all she could about Miss Boyle, in case Miss Boyle could prove useful in solving Victoria’s dilemma.
“No, I have no connection to Captain Hastings,” Miss Boyle said, “other than the fact that I sailed to Gibraltar with his sister. My brother won’t be back for several weeks, so Captain Hastings suggested I tarry with them. He didn’t think my brother would like me to dawdle at a hotel for all that time.”
“Probably not.”
“And why are you in Gibraltar? Captain Hastings informed me your spouse was a general. Is that right?”
“Yes, the notorious and renowned, General Upton Bennett.”
Miss Boyle scowled. “Pardon me for being impertinent, but aren’t generals typically…ah…very mature? Was it a winter/spring match?”
“Definitely.”
Victoria sensed Miss Boyle’s curiosity was piqued, and she didn’t mind talking about her marriage. None of it was a secret—well, some of it was a secret—and she was a regular topic of gossip among the ex-patriots in Gibraltar.
“My brother arranged it when I was sixteen,” she bluntly stated.
“How old was your husband.”
“He was sixty when we wed.”
Miss Boyle gasped. “My goodness.”
Victoria was accustomed to strident reaction when she recited the details. “The General was searching for a youthful bride, and she had to consent to journey to foreign lands with him. I was happy to have the chance.”
In describing her past, she’d become a very adept liar.
Her brother, Harold, was a cruel, bitter man, and he’d basically sold her to General Bennett to square a gambling debt. She’d had no say in the matter, and after she’d been introduced to him, she’d wept for days. She’d refused to proceed, but Harold had beaten her and locke
d her in her room until she’d relented.
The General had been cruel and bitter too, so she’d moved from one horrid situation to another that was even more unpleasant. With Harold, she’d merely had to put up with insults, denigration, and an occasional whipping.
With the General, she’d had all those same issues, but there had been the bedchamber problems piled on top of the rest. For many years, he hadn’t been able to perform the marital act. Doctors had convinced him that a beautiful, young wife would cure his impotency, but she hadn’t, and he’d blamed her for failing him.
She was twenty-five now, so she’d endured most of a decade with the pompous, nasty oaf, and while he’d been a soldier, she felt that she had been in a war.
He’d dropped dead a few months earlier, suddenly and unexpectedly, stomping across the parade ground, and it had been the best moment of her life. But then, she’d learned that he’d bequeathed all his wealth and belongings to his sons from his first marriage. She hadn’t received anything, not even her engagement ring.
Initially, the army had been kind, but she’d exhausted their patience, and they were gently demanding she leave. Yet she only had one place to go and that was back to her brother. He’d recently wed, and his wife was a female version of himself: petty, greedy, vicious.
Victoria couldn’t imagine what it would be like to reside with them, and she was terrified Harold would simply sell her again to another cretin. She was running out of time and hope.
“Was it…difficult,” Miss Boyle asked, “having such an elderly spouse?”
“It was very hard. We had naught in common, and he was a very stern fellow.”
More mortifying comments swirled, but Miss Boyle bit her tongue and inquired, “What is your plan for yourself?”
“The army is trying to send me to England, but I’d rather not oblige them.”
“Do you enjoy Gibraltar that much?”
“In London, I would have to live with my brother and his wife, and if I call them dreadful, I’m being much too polite.”
“Ooh, you poor dear.”
At Miss Boyle’s voicing of sympathy, tears flooded Victoria’s eyes. She wasn’t close to anyone, and no one had ever felt sorry for her.
“It’s a frightening predicament,” she said.
“Captain Hastings and I talked about you.” Miss Boyle raised a brow, looking mischievous. “He told me you were husband hunting.”
“I am husband hunting, but it’s complicated. Because of the General, all the soldiers are intimidated by me. They assume I’m too far above them, and of course, they’re all so accursedly young. They view me as an aged crone.”
“How old are you?” Miss Boyle asked.
“Twenty-five.”
“Yes, you practically have a foot in the grave.”
Victoria snorted with grim amusement. “If I can’t find a willing candidate, I’ll have to pursue other options. I’m constantly pondering alternatives. I’d be delighted to move in with a roommate, but there aren’t many single females here. The British women all have male family members waiting for them.”
Victoria had intentionally mentioned the notion of a roommate, letting it float into the air between them. She’d mention it again in a few days.
Miss Boyle’s brother would be away for long stretches, and the army and navy both frowned on women being alone. Apparently, she hadn’t realized that she might not be permitted to remain in Gibraltar if she was by herself for lengthy periods.
Victoria would be thrilled to share rental quarters with her, and she thought they’d get on famously.
“The reason I visited,” she said, “was that I wondered if you’d be interested in hosting a party.”
Miss Boyle blanched. “Me? Host a party?”
“Yes. I don’t have my own lodging or I’d host it for you. It will help you to acclimate.”
“What a marvelous idea. I would love to host a party.”
“Would Captain Hastings mind?”
“I won’t even ask him,” Miss Boyle retorted, and she laughed.
She was so confident in her ability to handle the Captain, and Victoria was curious about their relationship. When she’d watched them at the picnic, they’d certainly seemed cordial. Captain Hastings had chatted with her for an eternity, and he wasn’t exactly the chatting type.
“How about Saturday night?” Victoria inquired. “It’s in four days. Could you be ready by then? It doesn’t have to be fancy.”
“I’m hiring three servants, and I’ve settled on a cook, so Saturday should be fine.”
“If you require more assistance than that, I have acquaintances who could loan you a few more.”
“How many guests shall we invite?”
“How about thirty?”
“We’d have to have a buffet. We don’t have the space for a sit-down supper for that many.”
“A buffet would be perfect. Our social affairs are more casual anyway.”
“Could we have some music too?”
“Absolutely. There’s a trio of soldiers that performs at various events. I’ll contact them.”
Miss Boyle smiled. “I can’t tell you how elated I am by this. I’ve been worrying over how to meet people, and you’re giving me a great opportunity.”
“I’m so glad you think so.” Victoria stood, having always been aware of when to exit. “I’ll draw up some plans about what food we should serve, and I’ll jot a guest list. You should probably show it to Captain Hastings, just to be sure I haven’t included any enemies.”
“He has enemies?”
“None that he’d admit too.” Victoria smirked, then headed for the door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, and we’ll discuss the preparations. What would be the best time?”
“We rise early. How about ten?”
“Ten it is.”
Miss Boyle clasped Victoria’s hands and squeezed tight. “Thank you. I’m so grateful that you thought of me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Victoria left, pausing to wave at Miss Boyle who was lurking in the threshold as she departed. Then she rounded the corner, and once she was out of sight, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She’d made her overture. She’d ingratiated herself. She and Miss Boyle were going to be very, very good friends.
CHAPTER NINE
Amelia sank onto a chair along the wall and fanned her face. She’d been dancing for the past hour, and she was sweating like a fiend. The musicians had declared themselves dying of thirst, so they were taking a break. The windows were open, but it was a warm summer evening, and revelers were drifting outside into the fresh air.
The party was a huge success. Mrs. Bennett had conjured up a group of handsome, charming soldiers, mostly in their early twenties. She also seemed to have located every niece, cousin, and sister who’d come to stay with relatives.
It was common for unmarried girls to journey to remote locales where there were tons of British bachelors in the hopes of snagging a husband. Gibraltar was no different from any other of the kingdom’s enclaves.
Mrs. Bennett had invited thirty people, but it had ended up being nearer to fifty. Guests had brought acquaintances to join in the merriment, and it was very much like a London soiree. They stopped by for a bit, then went on to other entertainments. Apparently, Saturday night in Gibraltar was full of activities.
She’d met a slew of women her own age, all of them eager to make friends and establish a social structure. It was lovely and exciting, and Amelia was even more glad she’d traveled to Gibraltar. If only Evan were with her. Then her life would be perfect.
Brinley plopped down next to her. She was a favorite with the men. There was constantly a line of them begging to be her partner, and she relished picking one over the other.
“Are you having fun?” Amelia asked her.
“I suppose.” Her tone was bored and glum, as if it was all beneath her.
/> “You don’t sound very merry. This is a grand event, and we’re lucky Mrs. Bennett suggested it. We’ll launch ourselves much quicker this way.”
“I don’t care if I launch myself in Gibraltar. Anyway, I won’t be here long. Not after I persuade James about Denby Manor. We’ll be heading home soon.”
Amelia was aware that Captain Hastings had no desire to return to England, so she wouldn’t wade into that bog. Brinley had such fantastical ideas about her brother, and she was like a dog at a bone. She was anxious for Captain Hastings to oblige her over the Denby inheritance, and she couldn’t let it go.
“In the meantime,” Amelia said, “we’re having quite an adventure.”
“Speak for yourself. To me, it’s so common. This house. This party. The food. The musicians playing their country reels and jigs. Even the people are the same tedious sorts I’m forced to contend with in London.”
Amelia scoffed. “Are you above it all?”
“I’m used to finer things than this,” Brinley pompously stated.
Amelia gestured around the room. “These soldiers are dashing in their red coats, and they’re doting on you. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”
“They’re so…young.” Brinley uttered the word young as if youth were a crime.
“What’s wrong with that? You’re only eighteen yourself.”
“I like older men,” Brinley claimed. “Not boys.”
Amelia wouldn’t touch that comment with a ten-foot pole. “This is an army camp, so there aren’t a lot of older men, and they’re usually married. We’re left with the bachelors.”
“More’s the pity. I’ve become friendly with Conte Corpetto, and he’s reminded me of the difference between a man and a boy.”
Amelia froze and furiously assessed Brinley’s remark. She’d just admitted many facts that might—or might not—prove to be inappropriate and dangerous.
“Who on earth is Conte Corpetto?” Amelia asked.
“He’s an Italian nobleman. He’s renting a villa up on the hill.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I bumped into him when I was out shopping.”
