Chapter Four #2
“I’m sure Miss Flynn will be delighted to hear that. Have you written to her?”
“I have, and I sent her the book of poems you recommended.”
What was the maid doing, speaking out of turn? Her mistress was likely to admonish her forwardness, so why was Broom encouraging such behavior?
The captain let out a chuckle. “My friend is somewhat discomposed, Miss Price.”
The maid colored and glanced at her mistress. A flicker of disdain shone in Lady Portia’s eyes.
“Do you disapprove of my maid having a voice, Colonel Reid?” she said.
Stephen shook his head. “I merely find it astonishing that a woman of your rank—”
“Is not displaying the behavior of a haughty miss who cares nothing for others whom you have absolutely no desire to know?”
Shit. She’d heard.
An uncomfortable heat bloomed in his body at her intense gaze. Then a slight smile played on her lips, as if she found him faintly amusing, like a child trying to engage in conversation with a superior mind.
Sweet holy hell—could anything be more desirable? A fire sparked in his belly, then centered on his groin, and he shifted position to ease the tightness in his breeches.
She lowered her gaze to his lap and her eyes widened a fraction. The tip of her tongue flicked across her lips, leaving them glistening with moisture—just ripe to be tasted…
“I say, old boy! You’re not being very gallant, are you?” Broom said. “A gentleman should never remain sitting in the presences of ladies standing.”
Bugger. If Stephen stood now, the cockstand in his breeches would be all too apparent. What would Lady Portia think if she saw that?
“It’s of no consequence, Captain Broom, I assure you,” she said. “I am not one to lose composure over such a…little matter.”
Her gaze flicked to his groin, and he caught a flash of amusement in her eyes as her maid stifled a giggle.
“I must apologize for my friend, Lady Portia,” Broom continued. “He’s not well versed in polite conversation.”
“Taciturnity is to be admired, given how little sense comes from a man’s lips,” she replied.
Confounded female! Did she seek to insult him?
Stephen crossed his legs to ease the ache in his groin. “A hospital’s no place for a woman,” he said, the gruffness in his voice disguising the swelling desire. “The injuries these men have sustained are not for a woman’s eyes.”
“And yet it’s women who tend to them daily,” she replied. “Whether we ignore them or not, men are injured on the battlefield, or shot in duels, and they deserve to be tended to.”
“There’s no honor in a duel,” he said. “Men who engage in such childish activities injure themselves unnecessarily and require the services of a physician at the expense of those in true need.”
“But they fight for the honor of their loved ones,” Broom said.
“Where’s the honor in a childish spat between men who should know better?” Stephen said. “A duel arises from an act of dishonor—the seduction of an innocent, violation of another man’s wife…or a silly insult at White’s.”
“You speak as if you’ve direct experience of duels, sir,” Lady Portia said, directing her unsettling gaze at him.
“I’d never stoop to such antics,” he replied, “but I am sensitive to the problem.”
“How so?”
“His younger sister, Lady Portia,” Broom said. “She will be having her come-out this season.”
“Then I look forward to meeting her,” Lady Portia said with a smile. “Is she excited about her debut?”
“Very—her romantic sensibilities make it so,” Stephen replied.
Her smile slipped. “Romantic sensibility in a woman is a luxury she can rarely afford, for it rarely ends well for the woman.”
“Do you speak from experience?” he asked.
Pain flickered in her eyes, then she averted her gaze and stooped to kiss Broom on the forehead.
“Forgive me, captain,” she said. “I see I’m intruding, and I mustn’t neglect my chores, or Dr. McIver will be most disappointed. I’ll come and sit with you later—after your friend has gone.”
She nodded toward Stephen, then approached another bed. Its occupant, who had remained still all morning, came to life, color blooming on his previously ashen face and a smile illuminating his one remaining eye.
“Lady Portia!” he cried, offering his left hand. “And the delightful Miss Price. I was beginning to worry that you’d never come today.”
She touched the stump where his right arm had once been, then took his left hand, and a stab of envy needled at Stephen to see the smitten expression on the man’s face.
“Captain Clarke, I promised, did I not?” she said. “Now, have you been practicing your writing?”
“Yes, but my penmanship is appalling.”
“It always was, if I recall. The penmanship of a pug, my brother always said.”
“Oh, is he as overbearing as usual?”
“Worse,” she said, with a laugh, and they were soon engaged in conversation.
“I see she’s charmed every man in the room,” Stephen said.
Broom let out a snort. “Every man except one, it seems. Why have you taken against her? Is it perhaps to hide your desire?”
“I care nothing for her.”
“Tell that to your cock,” Broom said. “No man can be indifferent to any woman, let alone one such as her.”
“She is beautiful, I’ll admit…”
“Oh, you’ll admit, will you?” Broom chuckled. “Lady Portia’s a damned sight more than that. She’s intelligent and charming. Even you would admit that a man has much to gain from the company of a beautiful woman.”
“Oh yes,” Stephen said, unable to temper the bitterness in his voice.
“She’ll make him the envy of his friends, and there’s nothing more effective than envy in destroying friendships.
Every admirer and adventurer will see her as a challenge, and eventually she’ll succumb—as all women do—to temptation and flattery.
In a woman’s eyes, there will always be a wealthier, handsomer, or greater-titled alternative to the man she promises herself to, and thus the man who falls for her wiles will be left rejected and brokenhearted.
The envy of his friends, which will have cost him many friendships, will now turn to pity and disdain. ”
“Reid, not all women are like—”
“Spare me, Broom,” Stephen growled. “I have no intention of losing my heart, to Lady Portia or any other woman. I’ll not be made a fool of again.”
He squeezed his friend’s hand, then rose to his feet and bowed. As he exited the hospital, he glanced over his shoulder at the elegant figure weaving in among the beds, exchanging words and smiles with the occupants.
Beautiful she might be, but Lady Portia was a woman. Even if she weren’t tempted by the material benefits of a better man, what woman would want to cleave herself to a man such as he? A man who spent every night tormented by the demons of war; a man set on the path to madness.
No woman deserved that.