Candlelit Christmas Kisses. Anne Herries

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      ‘What are you saying?’ Henry asked, intrigued. ‘Have you remembered where you know Miss Searles from?’

      ‘Yes, I think I have.’ Robert grinned at him. ‘How could I have forgotten? It seems so long ago … like another lifetime. But of course I was a different man then.’

      ‘You actually knew her?’

      ‘Not exactly knew.’ Robert laughed and shook his head. ‘Do not ask, Nor, for I shall not tell you. I am only just beginning to remember—some of the details escape me. It was just before I left to join my regiment—and I was a little drunk that night. Actually, I was very drunk, but I remember this girl … she was so beautiful, like an angel …’

      ‘You are talking of Miss Searles? She is beautiful, of course, or she might be if she dressed differently—but an angel? That implies innocence?’

      ‘She must have been all of sixteen at the time. Too young to have been out, of course. I cannot imagine what her mama was about, taking her to a ball at that age.’

      ‘No doubt she kept a watchful eye on her?’

      ‘Perhaps. I cannot recall much of what happened, but …’ Robert smiled oddly. ‘No, do not question me with your eyes. I shall not reveal a lady’s indiscretion or my own. Good grief! Do you think she remembers?’

      ‘Perhaps. It depends on what you did or said that night, Robert—does she have cause to remember?’

      ‘To be honest, I can’t remember what I said to her, but I think I danced with her and then …’ He shook his head. ‘She must have forgotten. We only met once. Besides, I have changed so much—as has she.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder why she hasn’t married.’

      ‘I daresay she did not have the chance. Millie has told me their sad history. Her papa gambled their money away, and there was none for Selina or Amy to have a season, and then, when he was desperate, he killed himself. That sent their mother—who was always delicate—into a decline. The will allowed them to live in the house until she died, but then … Well, you know the rest.’

      ‘You’ve certainly been busy!’

      ‘Millie is very forthcoming—particularly when one talks to her as an equal. I think her sisters tend to treat her as a child, which she assures me she isn’t. I think I agree with her. Like Miss Searles, she has had grief and responsibility thrust upon her, and she has grown up faster than her years—which is sad, in a way.’

      ‘Yes, for all of them.’

      ‘Miss Amy seems the least affected. She does not show it in her manner—she has a joy in life that is hard to resist.’

      ‘You are smitten,’ Robert said dryly. ‘You should definitely propose, my dear Nor.’

      ‘We shall see how things progress. I would marry her rather than see harm come to any of them.’

      ‘How gallant,’ Robert drawled. ‘You were ever the gentleman. I fear I am a careless devil and shall not lose my heart so easily.’

      ‘What of the angel you met so briefly?’ Henry raised his brows.

      ‘She no longer exists. Somewhere along the way, she died, as did the dashing captain of her dreams. If she ever dreamed of me. I daresay she thought me an uncouth drunk who made free with her person … and breathe a word of that to another person and I’ll wring your neck.’

      ‘As if I would,’ Henry said, and smiled. ‘You know, Robert, I had wondered if you were lost to us for good—but I think there may just be a chance for you yet.’

      ‘Forget any foolish idea of romance, Nor. You may have fallen in love with Amy, but my heart is untouched. It died one hot Spanish night, and I do not think I can feel love—or any other decent emotion except guilt and regret.’

      Robert stared at himself in the mirror as he dressed for dinner that evening. He had decided to take Miss Searles up on her invitation, for it seemed foolish to make the staff serve two separate meals when they might all dine together. And if he was a little curious to discover whether or not anything remained of the young woman he seemed to remember kissing in a moonlit garden, he would not admit it—to Nor or to himself.

      No, it was simply a matter of practicality. Until his chef arrived, it would just make more work for her cook. Besides, he did not fancy dining alone with Henry in the great hall. They could, of course, eat in the library, but it would still make extra work.

      Tying his cravat in a style that had taken him some years to perfect, he brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his coat and prepared to leave. His memory of that night in Bath was distinctly hazy. He thought he’d kissed her, but he could not recall what he’d said or what she’d replied. He had a feeling he’d gone a little too far and she’d broken away from him, but his memory would not function properly, and he did not know what had happened after the kiss.

      Did Miss Searles remember him? Had she even known his name? He must surely have introduced himself. But she would have forgotten the small incident long ago, wouldn’t she? It could not have meant anything to her—the clumsy attentions of a drunken officer. If she did remember, she could feel nothing but animosity towards him.

      Was that why she dragged her hair back and made herself look older? Was she afraid that he might try to take advantage of her again?

      Robert felt the heat spread over his entire body. It was embarrassing. He had been a foolish youth, carried away on a tide of excitement and fear. Even while he’d longed for adventure, he’d known full well that he might be killed.

      Yet he’d come through the wars almost unscathed, apart from a few small wounds that had healed easily. No, his scars were mental. He would never forget Juanita’s broken body, or the way she had wept in his arms before she died as the result of the cruelty of a pack of drunken dogs. They had thought her one of the enemy and had raped her brutally, inflicting wounds on her body and her mind—wounds that she could never have recovered from.

      His own men. Men he’d nurtured, cherished and wept for had behaved like animals. He’d been forced to punish them—to hang the ringleader, a man he’d truly liked until that moment. It had been unlike Harris to behave so ill, for he had been generally a good man and caring of his soldiers, but in the heat of bloodlust, he’d gone berserk and committed the foulest of crimes. The look in his eyes as Robert had condemned him to hang had been like a dagger thrust in his heart.

      It was not that he’d loved Juanita, but she’d helped him to nurse Henry through his sickness and had not deserved such a cruel death.

      How could he ever forget the things he’d seen and done out there? It was impossible. He was dead inside.

      If he married it must be for the getting of an heir—to a sensible older woman who understood what such a marriage would be about. Was Miss Searles such a woman? Robert wasn’t sure. The girl he’d kissed on a moonlit night was someone different—a dream of love that had vanished under the punishing heat of Spanish skies. Robert hardly knew her. Henry seemed to have broken all barriers and was already treated as one of their family, but he … he was the earl, and they were guests in his house.

      He sighed as the elusive memory disappeared like mist. Perhaps if he found it hard to remember then she did, too. He hoped so, СКАЧАТЬ