Web of Love

Chapter 3

AFTER DINNER AT THE HOTEL DE BELLE VUE with the more elite of his guests, the Duke of Wellington arrived with the Dutch royal family at the Salle du Grand Concert in the Rue Ducale when all the rest of his guests were present and seated. There was a great stir as everyone rose. Jennifer, standing beside Ellen, followed her lead and swept into a deep curtsy as the King and Queen of the Netherlands were led to their seats.

“The duke looks more like a king than that other man,” she confided in a whisper. “I am glad he is not the King of England, Ellen.”

“Sh,” her stepmother said with a smile as they resumed their seats and settled for the beginning of the concert. But all the performers were merely tolerated, she felt, sensing the buzz of anticipation as the audience waited for the performance of Madame Catalani, the famous soprano, who had just recently arrived in Brussels.

The singer favored her audience with only two songs, and no amount of enthusiastic applause and calls for an encore could persuade her to sing more.

“She is very lovely,” Jennifer said.

“And has the most glorious voice I have ever heard,” Ellen said.

Her husband leaned toward her at that moment and spoke in a whisper. “I have been gazing about me ever since we came, Ellen,” he said, “and I don’t see any lady that looks lovelier than you. Or any girl that looks prettier than Jennifer.”

“Not even Madame Catalani?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Madame who?” he asked.

“Charlie!” Ellen giggled and linked her arm through his.

Lord Eden joined them before the dancing began. “Ma’am?” he said, bowing to Ellen. “Miss Simpson? Charlie, it is positively not fair that you should have two such lovely ladies in your charge. Especially when you have no intention of dancing with either of them. I am going to take them away from you.” He grinned at Ellen and Jennifer, and extended an arm to each, favoring them with an exaggerated bow. “Will you join my sister and me at the other side of the ballroom, ladies? I am afraid she is rather tied up with prospective partners at the moment.”

“Do you mind, Charlie?” Ellen laid a hand lightly on his arm.

“Go and enjoy yourself, lass,” he said, patting her hand. “And Jennifer too. I see Fairway and Hendon over there. I’ll go and have a word with them.”

“Are Lord and Lady Amberley here too?” Ellen asked as Lord Eden led her and Jennifer away.

“They have gone home for a while for Alexandra to, er, put the baby to bed, I believe,” he said. “They will be here later. I’m afraid Alexandra has rather vehement views on the question of wet nurses. Indeed, my brother and his wife are somewhat eccentric in several ways.”

“Oh, but I agree with the countess,” Ellen said.

He smiled at her before turning to Jennifer in order to point out to her the rather unimpressive figure of the Prince of Orange and the more gorgeous one of the Earl of Uxbridge, leader of the allied cavalry.

Lady Madeline greeted them both with a friendly smile. She drew Jennifer’s arm through her own and presented her to a large group of admirers. How she had succeeded in gathering such a court about her when she had been in Brussels for less than a month, Ellen did not know, but she was undoubtedly a very lovely and a very vivacious lady. Several of the gentlemen were signing their names in Jennifer’s card, Ellen was pleased to see. Her stepdaughter was looking exceptionally lovely in her gown of delicate pink silk overlaid with white lace.

Colonel Huxtable bowed and asked Ellen if he might sign her card.

Lord Eden had turned away to talk with a pretty little auburn-haired lady who had tapped him on the sleeve. Lady Madeline turned from her group of followers and smiled at Ellen.

“You are such a surprise,” she said. “Dom has mentioned both you and the captain in several of his letters home. I pictured you as a dumpy, comfortable-looking lady of middle years. You must be no older than I. And that is a glorious shade of green you are wearing.”

“Thank you.” Ellen smiled. “You, on the other hand, look very much as I expected. You are like your brother.”

“Have you been with the army ever since your marriage?” Madeline asked. “You must be very brave.”

“I joined my father in Spain when I was fifteen,” Ellen said. “But there is no courage involved in staying with one’s husband, you know. I think it would take a great deal more to stay in England and wait for news. I could not bear that. Charlie might be hurt or worse, and I not know about it perhaps for weeks.”

“I know.” Madeline’s eyes looked tormented for a moment. “I do not have a husband, Mrs. Simpson, but I do have Dom. And I have lived through three years of being separated from him. But not again. I am going to stay here until this is all over.”

“We have this evening,” Ellen said. “This evening, at least, there is no danger. Only lights and music and laughter. When you have become a part of army life, you learn to accept each day and each evening as a precious gift.”

Madeline looked as gay as she had appeared a few minutes before. “Of course,” she said. “Perhaps after all, we are more fortunate than other generations, Mrs. Simpson. We have learned to live and to love for the moment instead of wasting time planning for an elusive future. Here is a gentleman wanting to dance with you, I believe.”

Ellen turned to find Captain Norton, an officer of the Ninety-fifth Rifles, smiling at her and bowing. “My set, I believe, Mrs. Simpson,” he said. “I suppose Charlie won’t dance tonight, as usual?”

“Oh, he would make the supreme sacrifice if there were any danger of my being a wallflower,” Ellen said, placing a hand on his sleeve. “But you and several other gentlemen have kindly reprieved him, you see.”

LADY MAISIE HARDCASTLE joined Madeline at the end of the first set. They were old acquaintances from London, though Madeline would not have attached the label “friend” to their relationship. She disliked Maisie’s constantly barbed tongue.

“My dear Madeline,” she said now, tittering and tapping Madeline on the arm. Ever since the former Maisie Baines had married Sir Humphrey Hardcastle two years before, she had affected a condescending air with her old acquaintance. “I saw you talking with Mrs. Simpson earlier. Do you know who she is? I did not know myself, actually, but I was just talking with Lady Lawrence, who arrived from London only last week.”

“Mrs. Simpson is the wife of Captain Simpson of the Ninety-fifth,” Madeline said, fanning herself and hoping that the orchestra would not delay much longer before striking up for the second set so that Lieutenant Penworth might come to her rescue.

Maisie tittered again. “I thought you could not know,” she said. She looked dramatically about her as if she expected to see all the hundreds of guests leaning her way, ears extended for her news. She lowered her voice. “She is the Countess of Harrowby’s daughter.”

“Indeed?” Madeline said, her foot tapping with some impatience. “Then it is surprising that she does not attach the title ‘Lady’ to her name.”

“Oh.” Maisie smirked. “I did not say that she was the Earl of Harrowby’s daughter, my dear.”

Madeline turned her head to stare at her, her eyes hostile. “Indeed?” was all she said.

“You do not know the story?” Maisie asked. “I did not know myself until Lady Lawrence told me.”

“No,” Madeline said, “and I am not excessively interested in gossip, Maisie.”

“Oh, this is not gossip,” the other said, two spots of color appearing high on her cheekbones. “I would not indulge in gossip. You should know me better than that, Madeline dear. This is quite true, and such an old story that everyone knows it anyway. So one cannot be accused of being malicious. But I thought you would want to be warned, my dear. In a place like this, one does not always know quite with whom one is cultivating an acquaintance, does one? It is an act of simple friendship to warn someone when one is privy to some unsavory story.”

Madeline looked at her coldly. “I see Lieutenant Penworth approaching,” she said. “I have promised him the next set. I thought the music would never resume, didn’t you?”

“How inopportune!” Maisie said. “I will call one afternoon if I may, my dear, and give you the full details. Lady Amberley would doubtless be grateful to know too.”

“We both plan to be out that afternoon,” Madeline said with a smile before turning with a far more sparkling one for the lieutenant.

That dazzled officer would not have known from her manner during the following twenty minutes that she was seething with indignation. Maisie had always specialized in character assassination, and yet no amount of pointed insult seemed to penetrate her armor of self-righteousness. One could probably tell Maisie with one’s mouth six inches from her ear that she was an ass and she would still simper and call one her “dear.”

LORD EDEN DANCED the opening set with Jennifer. She was looking extremely lovely, he thought, and sparkled with an excitement that many very young ladies tried to hide behind a pretense of sophisticated boredom. Although she still blushed every time she looked into his eyes, she seemed to have recovered the use of her tongue in his presence.

When the pattern of the dance allowed conversation, he questioned her about her years at school, and delighted in the humor with which she recalled several incidents there. She had spent her holidays in London with Charlie’s sister, Lady Habersham, the only member of his family, it seemed, from whom he was not estranged. But of course she had always been too young to participate in any adult entertainments.

The world was new to her, Lord Eden realized, and thought how long ago it seemed since he had looked on life with such fresh eyes. And yet he was only five-and-twenty even now. He had done a lot of growing up during the past several years, especially during the three since he had bought his commission.

He felt a tenderness for the girl. It would feel good to be in love with her. To be in love again with youth and innocence. It would be good to marry such a girl, and to spend his life protecting her from the rougher side of life. It would be good to marry Charlie’s daughter.

Charlie would be his father-in-law. Now, there was a thought!

He smiled in some amusement at Jennifer as the pattern of the dance brought them together again, and drew another blush from her.

Perhaps he would let himself fall in love with her. After this battle. Not before. He did not want any emotional entanglements before the battle. He might not survive it.

He returned Jennifer to Ellen’s side at the end of the set and went in search of Susan Jennings, who had stopped to talk with him earlier, and whose card he had signed for the next set. Susan. The same Susan he had loved and almost married three years before. She had married Lieutenant Jennings soon after and had been with him and the army ever since. But three years of rough living had done nothing to destroy her look of fragile innocence and youth. He had seen her occasionally during those years.

“It is exceeding kind of you to dance with me, my lord,” she said as he led her onto the floor for the beginning of the set. She looked up at him with large hazel eyes. “I did not think you would sign my card when there are so many grand ladies present.”

“Ah, but how could I resist dancing a set with you, Susan?” he said. “You are easily as lovely as the grandest lady here.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing and lowering her eyelashes, “you are just saying that to tease me, my lord.”

“Not at all,” he said. “And how is life treating you, Susan? I have not talked with you in an age.”

“We spent the winter with Lord Renfrew,” she said. “My husband’s brother, you know. He is still unmarried. And Dennis-he was the middle brother-died two summers ago of the typhoid. He was in Italy. My husband is now Lord Renfrew’s heir.”

“Is he indeed?” Lord Eden said with a smile. “So one of these days I may be able to address you as ‘my lady,’ Susan.”

“Oh,” she said, looking up at him with wide and stricken eyes, “you must not think such a thing, my lord. I do not let it enter my mind, I am sure. I am excessively fond of his lordship.”

“Quite so,” he said. “It was a bad joke, Susan. Forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said.

He might have married her, Lord Eden thought. He had almost done so, except that he had finally made the choice between her and buying his commission. And the very evening on which he had renounced her and watched her run away in tears after declaring her love for him, she had announced her betrothal to Lieutenant Jennings. And had entered the very life into which he had thought it impossible to bring her. She seemed not to have suffered.

“Have you heard from your family recently?” he asked.

“Colin has married Hetty Morton,” she said. “Did you know that? Howard is still unmarried. Mama and Papa are well.”

The Courtneys were prosperous tenants of Amberley. Lord Eden had known Susan all her life, from the time when she was a tiny, worshipful little girl who seemed always to be crying over a kitten in trouble.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said.

“We were at home last summer for a while,” she said, “for Colin’s wedding. The rector’s wife had another daughter, you know. And did you know that Lady Grace Lampman has a son? I was never more surprised in my life. She is so very old. Mama said she almost died three years ago when their daughter was born. And Mama said that Sir Perry was almost beside himself when he knew she was in a delicate way again.”

Lord Eden listened in some amusement as she prattled on. Obviously as a married lady she felt it quite unexceptionable to assail his ears with such talk. The Susan he had known would have swooned quite away if someone had so much as whispered the word “pregnancy” a hundred yards from her.

“Yes, I did know about that,” he said. “Edmund told me. Perry is a particular friend of his, you know. And he declares that Lady Lampman is so very proud and happy that she looks a full ten years younger.”

“She should be happy,” Susan said. “Sir Perry is a handsome and amiable gentleman.”

Would he have continued to love her if he had married her? Lord Eden wondered. She was a quite delightful mixture of artifice and innocence, of girlish timidity and matronly assurance. He had a sudden image of being alone with her in her boudoir undressing her while she regaled him with all the latest on-dits. He did not believe he would find the experience wildly arousing.

But had he married her, their love would have had a chance to grow and develop. She might have adjusted to him and he to her. They might have been happy. Might have been! And might not have been. But he did not want his nostalgic dream of the past to die entirely. If his love for Susan could die a natural death, then perhaps there was no such thing as love. Or not for him, anyway. Alexandra and Edmund had it, of course. Sometimes it was painful to live in the same house as those two. Not that they ever embarrassed him and Madeline by so much as touching in public, of course. But they did not need to touch. Their every glance was a caress and a communication.

Well, he thought, glancing across the room to where Miss Jennifer Simpson was dancing with some fresh-faced youth, her face aglow, perhaps he would be able to love again. With a love that would last for a lifetime.

ELLEN WAS TALKING with Lady Amberley when Lord Eden came to claim his waltz with her after supper. She was looking forward to it immensely. She had waltzed once before that evening, with Lieutenant Byng, the flame-haired husband of her particular friend, but he did not dance the steps with anything more than competence. Lord Eden waltzed well. Ellen had seen him perform the dance before. And of all other dances, she loved the waltz.

She had enjoyed herself this evening. She had been without a partner for only one set, the one before supper, but she had been happy rather than disappointed about that, since Charlie had come to take her on his arm, and she had been able to relax and catch her breath and go in to supper with him. And they had sat with the Byngs and the Clearys and the Slatterys, and she had had to make no effort at all to make polite conversation. There had been a great deal of laughter at their table.

She had danced every other set and enjoyed lively conversations with her husband’s friends, with Colonel Huxtable, and with the handsome, kindly Earl of Amberley. And with Lord Eden, of course, during the first set they had danced together.

But now it was time to waltz. She smiled and placed her hand in Lord Eden’s as he exchanged a few words with his sister-in-law.

“Has Madeline invited you to the picnic tomorrow?” he asked as he led her toward the floor.

“No,” she said.

“She doubtless has asked Miss Simpson already,” he said. “We are getting together a group to go out into the Forest of Soignes. It is beautiful out there. Have you been? We are hoping that you will be willing to act as chaperone, yet again. I hope it is not becoming tedious to you to do so, ma’am. And I hope Charlie is not getting cross at your frequent absences. But if he is, it is entirely his own fault, as I shall tell him.” He grinned. “He can come too, if he wishes.”

“It would be cruel,” she said, her eyes sparkling back at him. “And on his day off duty, too.”

“We shall leave him at home, then, shall we?” he said. “And steal away into the forest to enjoy ourselves.”

“Just like children escaping their parents’ supervision,” she said with a laugh. “But I do thank you, my lord, and Lady Madeline. I hoped when we brought Jennifer out here that she would have plenty of entertainment, but I did not dream that there would be quite so much. I know she is enjoying herself enormously. And who knows when it will all come to an end?”

He set his hand at her waist and took her hand in his. “You must not even hint at such things during a ball, ma’am,” he said with a smile. “You know army etiquette.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. And resolutely shut her mind to the certain knowledge that all these splendidly uniformed officers would be engaged in perhaps the deadliest battle of their lives before too many more weeks had passed. The last battle of their lives for many of them. She smiled brightly.

And soon she was smiling in earnest. She had never waltzed with Lord Eden before. He was a superb dancer. He held her firmly and moved in such a way that she followed his lead without thought. And he spun and twirled her about the floor, so that she had to look up into his face to prevent herself from becoming dizzy. He was so very tall and strong.

He smiled back. “You waltz very well, ma’am,” he said. “You are not afraid to follow a lead. You feel like a feather in my arms. Charlie does not know what he is missing.”

“Oh, yes, he does,” she said, “and that is why he is missing it.”

He laughed and his teeth showed very white. His green eyes crinkled at the corners. He was quite startlingly attractive, Ellen thought. Was it possible that he would single Jennifer out for more and more marked attention? They had looked very handsome together as they had danced earlier.

He had always noticed that she was a lovely woman, Lord Eden thought. But it was only recently-since her return from England-that he had realized that she could sparkle with a truly vibrant beauty. She was sparkling tonight. She looked like a girl.

“Do I detect a touch of London fashion?” he asked. “That is a very becoming gown.”

He was interested to see her blush. “I bought it as a surprise for Charlie,” she said. “He thinks green is my color.”

“It is,” he said. “He is quite right.”

He had never danced with her like this before. Never held her. Her slim body was warm and supple beneath his hand. Charlie was a fortunate man.

He recalled his first meeting with Mrs. Simpson in Spain, and his surprise at her youth and beauty and elegance. She was not at all the type of woman he would have expected to be married to the rough-mannered and bighearted Charlie Simpson.

And yet there could be no doubt about the fact that her world revolved about her husband. His respect for her had grown with the years. He would never forget coming upon her after one vicious skirmish in Spain when all was still confusion on the battlefield. He had suffered a flesh wound in the arm and must have looked unusually pale as he staggered back from the front toward her tent, the first familiar landmark he had seen. Her hands had gone to her mouth, her eyes had grown round with horror, and she had begun to wail so that he had forgotten his own pain for a moment.

As it turned out, she had noticed only the paleness of his set face and had assumed that he was bringing her bad news. Her manner had changed instantly when she realized her mistake, and calm, steady hands had soon been easing his coat from him and cutting away his blood-soaked shirtsleeve and cleansing and dressing his wound. But she had cried again an hour later when Charlie had appeared, tattered and incredibly dirty, but miraculously unhurt. And she had hurled herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck and murmured his name at least a dozen times.

He could feel envious of his married friend at such moments.

“Do you think Charlie is watching and wishing he were in my place?” he asked her, looking down into her eyes and grinning. He spun her around a corner of the floor until she laughed up at him with delight.

And then another twirling couple collided with her from behind and sent her careering against him. His arms came tightly about her to steady her. Her face was still turned up to his.

Probably no more than a second passed while he became aware of her slim and shapely feminine form pressed to him, and found himself looking directly into her wide gray eyes and down to her parted lips. He was surrounded by the fragrance of her hair, of which he had been vaguely aware since they had started dancing.

She felt him with every part of her, from her shoulders to her knees. All hard masculine muscularity. She felt suffocated by his cologne, mesmerized by his green eyes, only inches from her own.

She felt herself blush hotly.

“So sorry. Clumsy of me!” a genial giant called over his shoulder as he maneuvered his partner into the throng of dancers again.

Lord Eden set firm hands on her shoulders as he stepped back from her. “How careless of me not to foresee that,” he said. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”

“Not at all,” she said, brushing her hands over her skirt and smiling at his chin. “Please forgive me.”

“For allowing yourself to be tossed by an ox?” he said. “I would be tempted to slap my glove in his face if he did not look as if he were enjoying himself so vastly. Oh, dear, it has happened again to another unfortunate couple. I shall be sure to keep half a ballroom between him and us for the rest of the set, ma’am, I do assure you.”

She laughed and placed her left hand on his shoulder again. “Perhaps instead of challenging him to a duel, you should hang bells around his neck, my lord,” she said, “so that everyone will know that he is coming.”

He felt uncomfortable. How unforgivably clumsy of him to have allowed her such embarrassment. He forced himself to laugh back. “And I thought you did not have a malicious bone in your body, Mrs. Simpson,” he said. “For shame, ma’am.”

She found it very hard to look up into his eyes. He suddenly seemed very large indeed, and very close to her. She felt more breathless than the exercise of dancing would account for. How unspeakably embarrassing!

Would the music never end?

They smiled and talked on.

THE COUNTESS OF AMBERLEY was drawing a brush absently through her hair and regarding her husband in the mirror. He was standing beside her stool, his arms folded.

“Do you think Madeline will marry Colonel Huxtable?” she asked. “He seems a very pleasant man, don’t you think, although she has known him for only a few weeks.”

“I suppose he will have to make her an offer before the question becomes relevant,” the earl said, taking one of her curls between his finger and thumb.

“Of course he will make her an offer,” she said, smiling at him. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Then I would have to guess that she will say no,” he said. “Doesn’t she say that to everyone?”

She sighed. “Perhaps she is looking too hard for love,” she said. “Perhaps she would grow into love if she would only give herself a chance to get to know some eligible gentleman.”

“Like we did?” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed, “like we did. We had no thought of loving each other when we became betrothed, did we?”

“Oh,” he said, “I had every thought of loving you, Alex. The betrothal might have been largely forced upon me, but I had every intention when I contracted it of coming to love you. And it did not take long.”

She reached back and touched his hand with her free one. “Dominic likes Miss Simpson,” she said. “She is very sweet. I like her. But is she a little young for him, Edmund?”

“There are eight years between you and me,” he said. “Are you too young for me?”

“No,” she said. “I did not mean just in years. Oh, never mind. They have only recently met. Edmund, do you know what that horrid Maisie Hardcastle told me?”

“Can’t imagine,” he said, lowering his head and nuzzling her earlobe. “Some shocking scandal, doubtless.”

“I gave her no encouragement whatsoever,” she said, “and tried my best not even to listen. But she would insist that it was her duty to tell me so that I might protect Madeline’s reputation.”

The earl snorted. “Did she, indeed?” he said. “Are you ready for bed, Alex? If we don’t go there soon, Caroline is going to be up, hungry as a bear, ready to start the day.”

She got to her feet and turned into his arms. “She said that Mrs. Simpson is the daughter of the Countess of Harrowby,” she said. “Do you know her?”

“I know of her,” he said, undoing the top button of her nightgown and moving his hands across her shoulders beneath it. “I know poor old Harrowby, of course. An alcoholic wreck, I’m afraid.”

“Maisie made a point of saying that she did not say that Mrs. Simpson was the daughter of the Earl of Harrowby,” she said.

“Quite likely, I’m afraid,” the earl said, undoing the second and third buttons of her nightgown so that he could open it back over her shoulders. “The lady has something of a spicy reputation.”

“Poor Mrs. Simpson,” she said. “Maisie will slaughter her character if she can, you know.”

“I believe she tried with you once, my love,” he said. “But I thwarted her by marrying you.”

“Thank you,” she said crossly. “We all know that without your generosity my reputation would have been in shreds forevermore. And do take that grin off your face.”

“I love you when you are prickly,” he said. “And you know very well that you married me eventually quite of your own free will. Though Christopher might have found himself in a nasty situation if you had not.”

“Edmund,” she said, catching at his wrists, “don’t do that until we are lying down, please. You know it always makes me weak at the knees.”

“Easily remedied, my love,” he said, stooping down and swinging her up into his arms.

ELLEN WAS LYING beside her husband, his arm beneath her head, as usual.

“You would not like to come?” she asked. “Tomorrow is a free day for you, Charlie, and the forest is said to be a beautiful place.”

“I would as soon stay at home, lass,” he said, “unless you really want me to come. Is it asking too much to expect you to go about everywhere with Jennifer? I am very selfish, aren’t I? I’ll come, then. I’ll come with you, Ellen.”

“No.” She sighed and kissed his cheek. “You would hate every minute of it, and I would not enjoy myself at all. But it would have been pleasant, would it not, to have been at home together tomorrow? We could have taken a stroll in the park in the afternoon. But never mind. We will have the evening. The Slatterys have invited Jennifer to the theater, remember?”

“Mm,” he said. “That will be nice, sweetheart. Would you prefer that I took you out somewhere?”

“No,” she said. “I want one of our quiet evenings at home together, Charlie. Just you and me. Just like old times.”

They lapsed into silence, and she was back in the ballroom, the music swirling in her head, the room spinning wildly about her. Noise and laughter, color and movement. The smell of a man’s cologne. She turned restlessly onto her side.

“I’m cold,” she said when her husband opened his eyes and turned his head.

“On a warm night like this, lass?” he said. “Hey, you are shivering.” He rubbed his large hands over her back and pulled the blankets close about her. “Cuddle close, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.”

“I love you, Charlie,” she said, burrowing her head beneath his chin and closing her eyes tightly. She spread her hands on his broad and warm chest. “I love you so very much. You do believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I believe it, lass,” he said, smoothing one hand over her hair. “And you know you are my treasure and always will be. Are you feeling warmer? Lift your face to me and let me kiss you.”

She tipped back her head with an almost desperate eagerness and slid one arm up about his neck.