if he was fool enough to fall in love with her? He recalled for a dangerous moment how perfectly she had fitted into his arms and how ardently she responded to his kisses, but he was sitting across from her father, for goodness’ sake. If the man could read his mind right now he’d challenge him to a duel, or horsewhip him out of the house.
‘No, I don’t and even if I did I have to admit that if my sister was being courted by a vagabond like me I’d move heaven and earth to stop him as well. I will do my best to avoid your daughter if we happen to meet by chance, Lord Farenze.’
‘Oh, no, don’t do that. She’d soon realise I’ve warned you off and insist on conversing with you as if you’re the most interesting young man on earth every time you set eyes on each other from that moment on. Don’t you know anything at all about contrary young ladies with too much spirit and stubbornness to meekly do as they’re bid, Hancourt?’
‘Not really, there are very few of them to be found on the average battlefield.’
‘There were plenty in Brussels last spring.’
‘Not when you had as much to do as we did and so little time to do it in, and certainly not if you are as poor and unconnected as Captain Carter.’
‘You’re not Captain Carter, though, are you?’
‘No, but I’m not quite the Duke’s nephew yet either.’
‘You can’t escape the bed you were born in,’ Lord Farenze said as if he was trying hard not to hold his breeding against him, but still unconvinced he was any better than his father at heart. He watched Colm with his grey-green eyes suspicious and very guarded indeed for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind to trust him so far and not much further. ‘My wife has invited your uncle and aunt to Darkmere to view our collections and for her Grace to paint whatever she chooses,’ he admitted rather grimly. ‘I couldn’t rescind her invitation when I realised his Grace’s nephew has been included in my lady’s hospitality, since your uncle and aunt seem reluctant to part with you so soon after they nearly lost you at Waterloo.’
‘Oh,’ Colm said, almost silenced by the novelty of actually being wanted by family for once in his life. This certainly wasn’t the moment to feel almost unmanned by the idea and he scrambled round for an excuse to stay away of his own accord, but his latest adversary was too far ahead of him.
‘As a public declaration of peace between Hancourts and Winterleys it could hardly be bettered, so I expect you to accept my wife’s invitation to Darkmere, but be very careful how you conduct yourself when you get there.’
‘Of course, Lord Farenze,’ Colm said stiffly, thinking he would almost rather be back with his regiment on a forced march.
‘I am sorry to be so blunt. Eve’s happiness and peace of mind come first with me, but I am ashamed of offering hospitality with one hand and snatching it back with the other. If not for my daughter, I could like you very well and, according to a man who knows more about most people than they probably want him to, you’re a brave man and a good officer.’
‘I thank him for his good opinion,’ Colm said, wishing he could go to Darkmere Castle as anyone but Colm Hancourt for a foolish moment.
‘I’m glad we’ve had this talk. Now my wife can go on peace-making and you will have to endure the sharp edge of my daughter’s tongue once she finds out how neatly you deceived her. I hope I can rely on you to infuriate her even more?’
‘I think you can be quite certain of that, my lord,’ Colm said glumly.
A week later Farenze House was closed up and the knocker had been taken off the door. Colm noted the blank unlived-in look of the place when his uncle’s carriage swept past at the start of its own long journey and he rode behind as the Duke of Linaire’s almost noble nephew on a horse Captain Carter could only dream of. Colm watched the ponderous coach navigate the busy streets, then gain the Great North Road with mixed feelings.
He was Colm Hancourt again for the first time in years, but he had little control over his destiny.
For the next few days he tried to forget their ultimate destination and enjoy the tour of the greatest houses and collections in the land before they ended up at Darkmere Castle. At first all he noted was mud and the biting cold, then the quiet beauty of the late autumn landscape stole his heart. He didn’t suppose dire poverty felt better in Britain than in the war-ravaged lands he’d quit with a sigh of relief after the first, fragile peace was made and Bonaparte went to Elba for a nice little holiday before Waterloo. It wasn’t much to boast about, but a British pauper could aspire to more than he was born to and stand some chance of achieving it.
This particular Briton had gone from fabulous fortune to nothing much at all, so he’d done it the other way about, but he was privileged all the same. He was the Duke of Linaire’s nephew and dressed as a gentleman. He had a good horse to ride, warm clothes to wear and the luxury of sleeping in the best inns when they were not staying in some of the finest houses in the land. This was a chance to learn more of his own country than a London childhood and eight years in the army allowed until now.
He rode out on a crisp November morning a week or so after leaving London as courier to his uncle and aunt and wondered at the meandering route they only seemed to decide a day at a time.
Wherever they were going he had settled into being Mr Hancourt again, he reflected, as he got a lower bow from the landlord of the Swan and Whistle than Mr Carter would have done. Life was less dangerous than it had been as a humble ensign, lieutenant, then captain of the 95th Rifles. Colm once swore to manage without a family who saw him as an embarrassment, but eight years of war had tempered him. He managed a self-deprecating grin at the thought of that angry resolution and hoped he was a better man than he was when he invented Mr Carter.
But for Miss Evelina Winterley he might even be content and it would be so much better if he could forget her until she was under his nose again, but somehow he couldn’t. He had too much time riding ahead of the ducal carriage to think right now. While Miss Winterley should have vanished from his thoughts after her father’s warnings it was impossible to forget a lady of character and grace to order. He caught himself smiling at thin air as if she was smiling right back. Just as well he was riding ahead of his uncle and aunt today and not by the side of the coach because this way neither of them could ask what he was grinning at.
He groaned quietly. This was nonsense, wasn’t it? He had nothing; he wasn’t quite nobody, but what sort of a gentleman lived off his wife’s dowry and his uncle’s charity? Not his sort, he told himself against the wild thunder in his blood that turned hot and primitive at the thought of having Miss Winterley as his wife. Her father was right and even if she wanted him right back that would fade when the sneers and whispers made her wonder what sort of a fool she was to wed the penniless son of her mother’s last lover. He didn’t love her; they had only met three times, for heaven’s sake, so how could he? This stupid feeling that they were perfectly designed to fill the dark and empty places in each other’s lives was a snare to avoid at all costs. Longing for a woman he couldn’t have would drive him mad. He could stop himself wanting what he couldn’t have if he worked hard enough. If he put his mind to it and perhaps wasted far too much of his meagre savings on a mistress, he could stop himself longing for impossible things and forget
