Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
T he knock on the door wrenched Ash from a restless sleep. He snapped upright in his chair as the clinging tendrils of his nightmare faded away. He glanced around his bedroom. He’d been at his desk, reading a letter from his estate, when he must have drifted off. He’d slept so badly the night before that exhaustion must have crept up on him. It hadn’t stopped the dream from coming, though. However, this time it had been worse, because one of his men had turned to him and his face had changed from Young Eddie to Amelia. He’d been trying to scream at her to turn round, to walk towards him and not towards the conflict. But just like Young Eddie, Amelia had ignored him and…
The knock sounded again, taking him away from his thoughts. ‘Enter,’ he called, grateful for the distraction.
His valet poked his head around the door. ‘It is getting late, sir. It is time for you to get ready for the soiree.’
He groaned. A sound his valet ignored. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of choosing an outfit,’ he told Ash. ‘I am sure you will find it favourable.’
‘Thank you, Jacobs.’ Ash may be loathing every minute of his return to the ton but he wouldn’t take out his bad mood on his valet.
There was a bowl of water in his room and he splashed it over his face, hoping to wash away the remnants of his dream. It didn’t really work. He was more awake and slightly colder, but the dream still clung to him like strands of a spider’s web. God, he’d never forget what happened to Young Eddie when the man had disobeyed Ash’s orders not to press forward but to retreat; his death had been an awful one. Now Ash’s mind was replacing the boy’s face with Amelia’s, which was a cruelty he really didn’t think he deserved.
As his valet tied his cravat, Ash remembered the way he had teased Amelia when they had danced together. In the past, she would have laughed at his joke but he had only incensed her. Although she now seemed to be armed with all the tools of the ton, the ability to make endless small talk about nothing, the false smiles and the art of the dismissive fan flick, Amelia couldn’t hide all her feelings from him. Her fiery blush at being caught staring at his cravat rather than looking at him told Ash she was embarrassed. For his part, he’d had a hard time looking away from her as her skin had turned the most enticing red. He’d remembered running his fingers over her cheeks and down the length of her neck, feeling that warmth for himself and the temptation to do it again, even in front of all those people, had been almost impossible to ignore. He had to hope she stayed away from him because he was like a moth to a flame when it came to her, and he could do without adding a broken heart to the long list of his problems.
His valet stepped back and admired his work. ‘There, sir, you are looking very well. I daresay all the ladies will be falling over you.’ Ash raised his hand but Jacobs caught it. ‘Do not run your fingers through your hair. You will look dishevelled.’
Ash flexed his fingers. ‘Does it really matter?’
‘People will think it is my fault. They will say that you made a mistake in employing someone like me to be your valet.’
Even though Jacobs’s eyes were twinkling with good humour, Ash dropped his hand. ‘Fine.’
‘Don’t do it in the carriage, either,’ admonished his valet, moving around the room, collecting discarded clothes.
Ash regarded himself in the mirror. He always expected to see a reflection of his broken spirit, and it was a shock to see a man who looked as if he was in the prime of his life. ‘I’m fairly sure I’m the one who gives the orders in this relationship,’ he said, more to take his mind off the upcoming evening than because he meant it. Jacobs had been a foot soldier, one whose life the officers who’d come before Ash had thought had little value. Ash had changed that and Jacobs appeared to be devoted to him for it. Not that the man showed it with his sarcasm and eye rolling.
‘When it comes to most things, sir, but not when it comes to your hair and clothes.’
‘Very well. I can accept that because you do make a good job of it.’
‘Aye, I can see you admiring yourself like a peacock.’
Ash chuckled. He’d not had a valet before leaving for the war and he wasn’t entirely sure he needed one now, but when Jacobs had turned up on his doorstep, desperate for work, he’d known he could not send the young lad away. Jacobs had fought for the country and had the scars to prove it, scars that upset the more delicate of the ton and made finding employment hard for the lad. Despite having virtually no money of his own, Ash had taken him on. He was fairly sure Jacobs would work for nothing so long as he had a roof over his head. Ash had to hope it didn’t come to that.
‘I believe your mother is ready for you to escort her,’ said Jacobs.
Ash swore softly. His mother was becoming increasingly rapacious in her quest for a perfect wife for him. Tonight they were escorting Elizabeth Bishop to a soiree, a lovely woman with an engaging intelligence whose company he enjoyed. He would not be making her an offer. There was no spark between them; he could no more imagine holding her in his arms than he could turn back time.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t met a single woman so far this season that inspired the sorts of thoughts he should have about the woman with whom he was going to spend the rest of his life. Well…there was one woman. One woman with whom he’d danced who had fitted perfectly into his arms, whom he’d wanted to laugh with and talk to and persuade into taking a walk in the gardens so he could kiss the long column of her neck as her hair spilled over his fingers. But she was not an option. Even if he was willing to entertain the idea, Amelia was avoiding him as if he had a communicable disease. Besides, she had already married someone who wasn’t him, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to fall back into the same foolish infatuation he’d had as a young man. He would find someone to marry him who didn’t excite any feeling in him at all; in which case he was back at Miss Elizabeth Bishop.
‘Please inform my mother I will join her very shortly.’
Jacobs nodded and left Ash to himself. When he was alone, he poured himself a measure of brandy, tossing it back quickly. He needed a drink to get through this evening.