Peter forced his lethargy to appear more like insouciance – participating in the game if not in the conversation around the table. He limited himself to the occasional wry response when Evans and Viscount Roxbury said something amusing.
Fortunately, he found himself sitting beside Opal and not opposite her – Evans claimed the honor of partnering with her in the game for himself. It served Peter so he could avoid her questioning looks but not her presence or the scent of her perfume – a spicy scent of sandalwood and patchouli – distinctly “oriental” and different to the floral perfumes worn by most ladies in Europe.
Evans dealt the thirteen cards. “Who should start?”
“Ladies first,” Roxbury announced.
“Then before we begin, Miss Jones, you should also have the honor of turning over the card to reveal the trump suit.”
Peter watched Opal smile seductively at her audience.
“Hearts.”
“Hearts, then Diamonds – a most satisfactory trick I find.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon herself had approached their table.
Peter, the viscount, and Evans rose from their seats to acknowledge their hostess.
“I trust you are enjoying your evening?”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Opal. “I would presume to speak for all of us that this has been an exceptional evening.”
“Also, an unexpected reunion of old friends,” said Roxbury, nodding over to Opal and Peter.
Opal narrowed her eyes at the man, and he chose to ignore it.
“Indeed!” Mrs. Dove-Lyon exclaimed. “The same regiment?”
“The same continent,” Roxbury continued. “Captain Ravenshaw and Miss Jones grew up together in India. They are close friends who haven’t seen each other in years. Don’t you agree they make such a handsome couple?”
The lady gave a noncommittal nod of her head – thank heavens for small mercies – before she left to greet another table.
Peter had no idea what game the viscount was playing, but it was getting far too personal for his liking.
His relationship with Opal was none of anyone’s business, and he had the distinct impression of being the butt of a joke he didn’t understand.
He remained standing as Roxbury and Evans sat. Peter offered a stiff bow to Opal.
“I’ve tired of this evening. Be so good as to tell your father I’d like to pay a call in the next few days.”
He saw the hurt on Opal’s face and the surprise on the faces of the two men. He turned his back and headed toward the coat check.
Seeing Opal tonight was too much. He needed to rest and take time to think. For the first time since his grievous wounding, he craved the unconsciousness of sleep. This time, he no longer dreaded closing his eyes for fear that he would not wake up.
Now he worried about his dreams because he was sure Opal would feature in them.
“Peter!”
Her plea was not loud enough to hear. She rose to her feet. She might even have followed if not for his promise to visit her father soon.
She turned to Evans.
“Tell me. What’s wrong with Peter?”
The man looked like a frightened deer.
“Me? Why should I know anything?”
“You’re his friend. You’ve known him since he returned from India.”
Oliver put a hand over hers.
“I think it’s time to leave. It’s been a night of surprises for all of us, I think.”
If Opal was in her right mind, she might have bristled at been treated in such a high-handed fashion, but now she was numb, so she did not protest their leaving.
Evans rose from the table.
“I regret our meeting was so ill-starred, Miss Jones. I can promise to have a word with Ravenshaw and remind him of his manners and his obligation to old friends.” Here, he hesitated. “May I call on you in the next few days? I hope our friend will be in a better mood, and we can get things set aright.”
Oliver shook Evans’ hand.
“A friend of Miss Jones’ is also a friend of mine, so don’t hesitate to call on me also if need be.”
“Thank you, sir. Your generosity and kindness are appreciated.”
Opal was grateful for a few minutes alone with her own thoughts while Oliver arranged for his carriage to be brought around. All of this seemed like a dream.
No, a nightmare.
Because, in her dreams, a reunion between her and Peter began with heartfelt correspondence and ardent words. He would march down the gangway of the ship in his uniform, the scarlet jacket bright against the blue sky.
He would spot her in the crowd and make his way to her, taking her hand and pledging his everlasting love and devotion.
That was the dream at any rate…
Her father waited up for her in his library. A pair of crutches remained propped against the chair where he read, his one good leg stretched out across an ottoman, the stump of his other leg hidden beneath a blanket.
“How was your evening dear? Did they raise a lot of money tonight?”
Opal sat down in the chair alongside his, taking a long look into the fire.
“Money?” She forced her attention back to her father’s question. “Oh, I rather think they did. I left soon after the dancing ended, and there were still plenty of people there.”
“I see you’re still wearing that hideous snake bangle. I was hoping you’d have pawned it for a stake.”
“Papa!” She clutched the piece of jewelry and gave him a look of mock horror.
“Yes, yes, I know, it was a gift from a friend.”
“He was there tonight,” she said after a moment.
Major Jones set down his pipe and gave her his full attention.
“Ravenshaw?”
“You didn’t know he’d returned either, did you?”
“Your mother would be the first with such news since she’s fast friends with Mrs. Ravenshaw.”
“He wasn’t in uniform… I’m not completely positive, but I think I heard him say that he resigned his commission.”
“And what answer did he give to explain himself?”
“None at all. And he looked different. I can’t exactly describe it, but he did not look like the same person who left Portsmouth.”
“A man doesn’t come back unchanged, you know.”
“You didn’t change. You’ve always been the same, Papa.”
“If that was your recollection of your girlhood, then you and I both have your mother to thank for it. Don’t you recall I was away for months at a time?”
“I do, but you were always glad to see me when you got home.”
“I was always glad to come home. I could leave being a soldier behind for a while and be the husband and father I needed to be.”
“I never knew what it was you did. You must have seen some awful things on your patrols. I feel rather ashamed that I never asked you about them.”
“I’m not sure I would have told you – not when you were younger. A young girl should dream of pretty things, to see life as it ought to be, not as it is.”
“Are you sure you are not trying to coddle me still?” she teased. “And what of boys? Is it truly that different?”
“Men will talk freer among themselves than they will with women about.”
“Oh, that does sound like coddling. We’re not all vapid ninnies.”
“I know you’re not, my dear, but men are charged with keeping the dragon from the door, and only another man knows what it is like to fight the beast.”
She contemplated her father’s words a moment.
“I think that’s why Peter wants to talk to you. He asked me to tell you that he plans to call.”
Silence fell between them save for the crackling of the fire in the grate.
“You need to understand that anything that young man tells me will remain in confidence unless he says otherwise. It’s no less than I owe his late father, and what is Peter’s due as an officer and a gentleman.”
She was r
eady to object. Her father raised a hand.
“I mean what I say, Opal. I’m more than happy to give you your way in most things but, in this, I will not be moved.”
She nodded her understanding and rose to her feet, more tired than she ought to have been, not to mention just a little heartsick.
“Then you will hear no more of it from me.” She kissed her father on the forehead. “I think the world of you both and would not dream of bringing distress to either of you.”
The major took her hand and patted it.
“I shall say just one more word on the subject – I know you still harbor affection for Peter, but be prepared to find that the boy you grew up with is not the man he has become.”
Chapter Ten
Despite his expectation of a restless night’s sleep, Peter was surprised to find the sun was well and truly up by the time he emerged from a dreamless slumber.
He only lightly dozed when he heard the long-case clock downstairs chime the ninth hour.
He rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling.
Had he really seen Opal last night? It would be all too easy to believe it one of those strange delusions that plagued him during the worst of his fever. He had thought of her often and even conjured her up in his mind’s eye during lonely nights. Although he could not recall the particulars now, he was certain she didn’t look like the woman he saw last night.
Perhaps she was the figment of his imagination, a masked apparition. Maybe he hadn’t even been to The Lyon’s Den at all.
He threw back the covers and realized he was wearing nothing – so obviously he’d put himself to bed last night.
He snatched at the jacket that hung on the wooden valet and fished in a pocket. The card from Viscount Roxbury.
Not an illusion then.
He tossed the card on the chest of drawers by his bed and tugged at the bell pull to call for a servant.
The first order of business was to see Major Jones. No doubt, Opal would have told her father about his strange behavior last night.
Should he write and ask for an audience? Or should he call himself and leave a card? He knew what he ought to do, but that would mean running the risk of seeing Opal again.
Gah, he was a cad.
He had basked in Opal’s hero worship ever since he was ten years old. Of course, it took him many more years to realize her affection was less fraternal and more intimate.
He was a man. That’s all he was, not a hero or a demi-god. He didn’t deserve the adoration.
He looked in the mirror.
He was less than a man.
He was a failure. He’d made a vow to his father to join the army, to take up the mantle of his own career, and fulfill all the things his father did not in a life cut short. But his own life was nearly cut short. And all it did was leave him with the conclusion there were other things he wanted to do with his life.
He could go back go back to India. Or he could compromise and join as an artillery instructor at Sandhurst – the very offer was made within a month of his return. His own mother was keen for him to take it, warning him he would be bored in no time of being a gentleman farmer.
“That’s for older gents, retired gents,” she had warned him. “You’re a young man. You ought to have a spirit of adventure like your father. You’ll resent this choice, believe you me. You’ll rue it as life cut short.”
A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. He donned a robe and bid the servant enter. He looked out of the window as Winston’s valet poured steaming water into a bowl and set out the shaving accoutrements.
“Does sir intend to ride out today?”
“Later. I want to make a few calls first.”
“Very good. I will lay out the blue suit and hang up your evening clothes to air.”
“They can be packed away. I’ve no further engagements, and I’ll be returning to Berkshire in a fortnight.”
“Before I do that, sir, you may wish to review the invitations which came this morning.”
Peter set down his shaving brush.
“Invitations? I hardly know anyone in London.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, once you have been seen at The Lyon’s Den, you have an entrée to some of the most fascinating circles. It is said that gentlemen who have been ‘Lyon tamed’ are much sought-after by particular ladies.”
Peter cocked an eyebrow.
“And what particular ladies are these?”
The valet wouldn’t be drawn in, but the enigmatic look on his face told him everything he needed to know. Peter turned back to the mirror and resumed soaping his face.
“I’m not in the market for a wife.”
“Very good, sir.” The valet bowed and left the room.
Very good, sir.
Peter knew insubordination when he heard it but he chose to ignore it.
He did not need a wife – not now and perhaps not for a good long while yet. The wife he’d seek would most likely be a local girl, one who was biddable, happy to live in the country.
“And she would most certainly not be Opal Jones.”
It was too late once he said the words aloud; her face came into view of his mind’s eye. But it was not the girl, but the woman he’d met last night – poised, intriguing, beautiful, and with a rich, husky voice that had him half-standing to attention even before he realized who she was.
No, Opal could not be for him, not when she was being courted by a viscount. The Viscount of Roxbury, no less.
Opal’s mother would be delighted by such an advantageous match. To describe her as one of those ambitious mamas might be over-egging the pudding – she was not as shallow as all that – but she would strongly champion something that would benefit her daughter.
Surely her father approved of the man. Peter couldn’t imagine the tough-minded major allowing his daughter to be escorted by anything other than a man of the highest qualities.
He smiled at himself in the mirror this time. No point in getting himself in a funk.
The sun was high in the sky, and the great and good of society were only just arising. It would do them all good to keep country hours for a while – they might be surprised how much they accomplished using the first hours of the day instead of the last.
He pulled a face as he drew the straight blade down his stubbled cheek. His ambition for a military career might be over but he would not forget the lessons. Martial discipline was one of them. He finished shaving, then dressed in brisk fashion before heading down to breakfast.
Opal watched Steadman through the reflection of the mirror as she fastened the sea-green ribbon of her bonnet under her chin. The poor butler looked harried as he set the silver salver in front of her father who, it had to be said, was doing an admirable job as an island of calm in a sea of turmoil.
“There has been another card this morning, sir.”
“Another friend of Opal’s, I presume. How many in your party today?” the major called out to her. “I thought you said there were going to be six.”
“That was six meeting us here, Papa. We’ll be picking up Lady Charlotte and Lady Alexandra and their three cousins at Mayfair.”
“And where is it you’re going again?”
“Hampstead Heath for a walk and a picnic.”
“No, sir,” Steadman interrupted. “This is not a member of Miss Opal’s party. The gentleman wishes to know whether you are in.”
The major picked up the card and looked at it. Opal caught her father glance her way before dropping the card on the tray.
“Tell the gentleman to make himself at home in the library. I’ll attend him soon.”
Opal waited for the butler to leave the room before she turned around.
“Who is waiting for you, Papa?”
She kept her voice as even as possible in an attempt to hide her curiosity.
She knew if she could hold her father’s attention, he would relent and tell her. Fortunately for him, her mother interven
ed.
“I’m sure it’s just some business associate of your father’s. I wouldn’t worry yourself about such things. Are you sure you won’t take a pelisse? The weather looks fine enough, but who knows what it will be like in the afternoon?”
Opal tamped down her annoyance. She’d already had this conversation with her mother this morning, but if it got her out of the room to let her have a few moments alone with her father…
“Yes, all right then, I shall take the green one. Would you be a lamb and fetch it for me? I don’t want to keep the others waiting.”
Since mother had been given her own way, she was more than amenable to fetch the garment. After she left, Opal decided not to beat about the bush.
“I saw you give me a particular look when you received the calling card,” she said. “Who was it?”
“I think you’ve already guessed who.”
Peter’s name was on her lips even before he had finished.
The major got to his feet. “Things might be different in the light of day and things may not be as you assumed last night. If you wish, pop your head through the door and greet him as you would any friend of the family. Otherwise, I will pass on your regards, and you are free to go off with your friends.”
“Would I be a coward if I did the latter?”
“That’s not a question I can answer. Only you can do that.”
She reached out to take her father’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
In the end, Opal found her courage. Seeing Peter last night had been a surprise, a conjuring up of a ghost. But now that she knew he was truly here, there could be no harm in seeing him, was there?
She entered the library as though it were just her father alone here and she was bidding him farewell before heading off on the picnic. She found herself at a standstill ten feet away from Peter.
Even in his day clothes, he was handsome. More filled out than he had been as a youth, he had the body of a man in his prime. Now she was the focus of his attention. She watched him take in everything from her bonnet and dress down to the boots she wore. What did he see when he looked at her?
“Good mor—”
“It’s good to—”
They started to speak over one another before laughter broke the tension.
The Lyon Sleeps Tonight Page 6
