Monmouthshire with his tail between his legs, transferred to another unit at Luke’s insistence for compromising a local vicar’s daughter.
‘There weren’t any officers on the guest list.’ Alma tipped her flute at the blue-eyed beauty weaving through the guests. ‘I believe your conversation partner is following him.’
The young lady paused at the door, taking advantage of Lady Huntford’s lack of interest in her to slip into the hallway where Lieutenant Foreman had just disappeared. Apparently, she favoured lower-ranking men more than Luke had realised.
Luke handed his glass to Alma. ‘I won’t have a misguided woman ruining herself under our roof, especially not with a man like him. Tell no one about this.’
‘I won’t say a word.’ Thankfully, she understood the need for discretion in this matter.
Luke followed them out of the ballroom, as curious as he was determined to protect his wayward guest.
She travelled the length of the ever-darkening hallway with the agitation of a spy down an alley. Whatever she was doing was wrong and she knew it. Still, she continued on in search of Lieutenant Foreman. Luke was careful not to follow too close. He wanted to make sure he caught them together, but not too much together. Then he’d see to it Lieutenant Foreman never set foot in this part of Hertfordshire again. He detested the man and his lack of honour. He should have done right by the vicar’s daughter. At least he hadn’t got the young lady with child. Luke would’ve marched him up the church aisle at bayonet point if he had. He hoped he didn’t have to perform the same service for Miss Huntford.
The young lady slipped down another hall, this one poorly lit to disguise the threadbare rug and tired furnishings. The best of the furniture had been moved to the front of the house and the ballroom to keep up the appearance of wealth. No guests were supposed to be in this far-flung and cold wing of the classical-style house.
He stopped at the turn to the hallway and peered around the corner, doing his best to remain undetected. The young lady paused at the door near the far end and took hold of the knob. She turned to survey the emptiness around her. Luke jerked back out of sight and prayed he hadn’t been seen. The squeak of the brass and the protest of the old hinges as the door opened told him she hadn’t noticed him.
He marched down the hall after her, determined to make his interruption as stunning as possible in order to teach the lady a lesson. He grabbed the knob and threw open the door. ‘What are you doing in here?’
He jerked to a halt to keep from colliding with the young lady. She scooted aside as, across the room, Lieutenant Foreman let go of the elder Miss Huntford so fast, she almost fell to the floor.
‘Enjoying the pleasures of the country, as you can see,’ Lieutenant Foreman sneered, his pointed chin framed by the red coat of his uniform ‘And there’s nothing you can do about it, Mr Preston.’
Luke rushed up on him so fast, he shuffled back into the bookcase behind him. ‘I may not have my commission, but I still have my connections, especially with Lieutenant Colonel Lord Beckwith. I won’t hesitate to appeal to him to have you drummed out of the ranks for this.’
‘No, you can’t,’ Miss Huntford protested.
He fixed her with a hard look. ‘You’d do well to remember your reputation is in grave danger of being compromised.’
Miss Huntford shrunk back, biting her lip like a reprimanded child.
Luke turned to his former comrade, wanting to thrash him for being a scoundrel, but he kept control. His family couldn’t afford any broken furniture. ‘As for you, Lieutenant Foreman, you’d better think long and hard on your future in the Army because if I ever see you two together again, unmarried, or hear one whiff of scandal regarding you and Miss Huntford, I’ll see to it you’re shipped to a remote and disease-ridden post. Do I make myself clear?’
Lieutenant Foreman’s beady eyes widened. ‘Yes.’
‘Sir.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He raised a shaking hand to his forehead in salute.
‘Now, get out.’
Lieutenant Foreman slid out from between Luke and the wall, offering not one word of goodbye to his lover as he rushed from the room.
Miss Huntford’s embarrassment didn’t last long past the exit of her paramour. She fixed hard eyes on her sister, reprimanding her as if Luke wasn’t there.
‘You brought Major Preston here,’ she screeched. ‘You’re trying to ruin me on purpose. How dare you. I’ll see you pay for this.’
She advanced on the poor young lady, who shrank into the corner as if doing her best to become one with the panelling. Luke stepped between the sisters, shielding the lady from Miss Huntford’s wrath.
‘Your sister didn’t bring me here. I followed her. Unlike you, I’m concerned about her reputation and yours.’
‘Sister,’ Miss Huntford snorted, ‘she isn’t my sister. She’s the governess.’
Luke stepped out from between the ladies and glanced back and forth at them. So much about their previous conversation suddenly became clear, especially her refusal to dance, her insight and her desire to get away. The governess lowered her stunning blue eyes to the carpet, her head bowed like an inferior. It made his blood boil to see her humbled by Miss Huntford, as it did when he used to see unqualified commanders berate junior officers for daring to display initiative.
Luke turned back to Miss Huntford. With her deep-red dress pressing her generous breasts up against the top of the bodice, she was as well done up as a courtesan searching for a client at the theatre. Her mother shouldn’t have allowed her daughter to wear so questionable a dress. Then again, if her mother had shown much interest in her, she might not have been here with Lieutenant Foreman. ‘Your governess has more sense than you do.’
Miss Huntford let out a startled squeak at being disciplined for what Luke imagined might be the first time in her life.
‘If I hear any word of Miss—what’s your name?’ he asked the governess.
‘Radcliff.’ She twisted her hands together in front of her. The vibrant, humorous woman he’d enjoyed in the ballroom was gone, driven away by her spoiled hoyden of a charge.
‘If I learn Miss Radcliff has been reprimanded or dismissed for her attempt to aid you, Miss Huntford, I’ll ask for an interview with your father and tell him not only what I witnessed, but something of Lieutenant Foreman’s background. He won’t like it and neither will you. Do I have your word you won’t seek revenge against Miss Radcliff?’
Miss Huntford screwed up her full lips in a pout to make a two-year-old proud. He recognised the delay. It was the same reaction he used to receive from soldiers not wanting to answer a direct question. They would hem and shuffle, working to come up with some false reason to justify their poor behaviour. Like his soldiers, Miss Huntford could think of nothing. Her pout eased into a frown and the red drained out of her face. She was beaten and she knew it. ‘Yes, you have my word.’
‘Good. I’ll escort you back to the ballroom and we’ll say nothing of this to anyone.’ He offered her his elbow.
She wrinkled her nose at it, stubborn as before, but, seeing no choice except to
