He laughed outright and she realized something she would really rather not know. Shedidlike him. Or, rather, she had to admit that he was a likable man who disturbed an inner calm she had spent years establishing. She did not like what he did to that hard-won discipline.
“Your turn,” he said so softly that she almost missed the words.
But their echo remained.
Imogen swallowed. Her throat was dry. Her tea was untouched, as was the single biscuit she had taken. The tea was probably cold by now, though, and she hated cold tea. And if he had feared that his hand might be shaking, sheknewhers was.
“There is not much to tell,” she said. “They knew my husband was a British officer, though the fact that he was not in uniform gave them all the excuse they needed to pretend they did not believe him and to use every means at their disposal to force information from him.”
“Torture,” he said.
She spread her hands across her lap and looked down at them.
“They treatedmewith the utmost respect,” she said. “I was given a private room in their temporary headquarters and the services of a maid, the wife of a foot soldier. I dined each day with the most senior of the French officers, and they made an effort to converse with me in English though I speak French reasonably well. I had not been so well treated since leaving England.”
“But you did not see your husband,” he said.
“No.” She drew a slow breath and licked dry lips with a dry tongue. “But sometimes, seemingly quite by accident, for which they always apologized profusely afterward, they let me hear him scream.”
Her skirt was pleated between her fingers.
“He did not divulge his secrets?” he asked her after what seemed like a lengthy pause.
“Never.” She smoothed out the creases. “No, never.”
“They did not try to get information from you?” he asked.
“I knew nothing,” she told him. “They understood that. It would have been a waste of their time.”
“And they did not use you to pry information out of him?”
Andheunderstood too much. Her skirt pleated itself between her fingers again.
“He never told them anything,” she said again, raising her eyes to look at him. He was looking a bit pale and grim about the mouth. “And they never... did anything to me. They never hurt me. After his... death, a French colonel escorted me back to British headquarters under a flag of truce. He even had the soldier’s wife accompany us for propriety’s sake. He was gracious and courteous. And of course he was all surprise and regret when he was informed that I was indeed the wife—the widow—of a British officer.”
“You were present when your husband died?” he asked.
Her eyes were locked with his, it seemed. She could not look away.
“Yes.” She spread her fingers, releasing the creased fabric.
He stared a moment longer and then got abruptly to his feet. The dog scrambled tohis,and Blossom eyed them both without raising her head, saw that her ownership of the chair was not about to be disputed, and closed her eyes again. Lord Hardford set one forearm along the mantel and one booted foot on the hearth and gazed into the fire.
“He was a brave man,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And you loved him.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes and kept them closed.
She opened them with a start of alarm when he spoke again. He had crossed the room to the love seat without her realizing it and was leaning over her. His face was not many inches from her own. But his intent was not sexual. She realized that immediately.
“War is the damnedest thing, is it not?” he said without either apologizing for his language or waiting for her answer. “One hears about those who were killed and feels sorrow for their relatives. One hears about those who were wounded and winces in sympathy while believing they were the lucky ones. One imagines that once they heal as far as is possible, they continue with their lives where they had left them off before they went to war. One scarcely thinks of the women at all, except with a little sorrow for their loss of loved ones. But for everyone concerned, dead or alive, it is the damnedest,damnedestthing. Is it not?”
This time he waited for her answer, his face pale and grim and almost unrecognizable.
