She leaned on the arm of her chair. “You are stalling, Lord Gladsby. Your admission promised a good tale and I’ll not be denied. Now, out with it.”
An odd sort of excitement filled him at her forcefulness. Even though her words were playful, he liked that she’d been able to read him so quickly and would not be moved by his tactics.
He sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. He didn’t have to tell her everything.
“My father and I never saw eye to eye on the gentry’s obligations when it came to the war with Bonaparte. He insisted that as his only son, I should settle down and provide an heir for the property. As a man of three and twenty, marriage was the last thing on my mind.” He swallowed hard, realizing if he’d taken his father’s advice, perhaps Harvey would still be alive. At the very least, it would have lightened his father’s burdens and maybe even extended his life.
Alan clenched his fists, then relaxed his fingers. There was nothing he could do to change it now. “However, fascinated with war since my days in short pants, I could not imagine why anyone would give up the opportunity to fight for king and country. It was an honor every able-bodied man should take up. I could almost taste the adventure. When I demanded he buy me a commission, he refused, insisting the people who lived and worked at Engalworth needed me more than the army. I thought him selfish, so I collected my horse and left that very day. Only I didn’t go alone.”
“You didn’t?” Grace’s long, slender fingers tightly gripped her cup as she leaned in, anticipation clear in the set of her shoulders and the curve of her brow.
“No, I took my closest mate, Harvey Smith. We were both obsessed with becoming soldiers, and I convinced him not towait for his father to save up enough to buy a commission. It was much faster to enlist. Incredibly ignorant, we believed the only thing His Majesty’s army needed was a pair of unskilled gentlemen to run to their rescue and beat Boney at his own game.”
Alan shook his head at his own stupidity. He may have been three and twenty, but he’d had the sense of a youth who could barely grow hair on his upper lip. Maybe less, considering he’d attended university and still held to such reckless beliefs.
“So you and Mr. Smith joined the regulars,” Grace said. “That must have been humbling.”
He pondered her word choice. “Humbling. Yes, I believe that was our exact experience. We marched by men from all stations, many with much greater skill than our own. Frankly, it was humiliating. But Harvey, good man, did not castigate me once.”
“He sounds like a true friend. Was he ever able to buy a commission, or did he stay with the regulars after you became a spy?”
Alan clenched his teeth, a lead-like weight settling in his chest. Breathing in through his nose, he tried to gather his next words in hopes of gentling them for her.
“He did not make it home,” he said softly.
Her lips turned down and her eyes drooped. “Oh, Lord Gladsby, I am so sorry. Did he die in battle?”
Why hadn’t she just accepted his first explanation? Why did she have to ask more questions? And why in the world was she showing him pity?
He pushed to his feet and crossed to the fireplace. Leaning an arm on the mantel, he bit back the harsh retort he wanted to hurl at her. She’d done nothing wrong. Why was he angry?
Shifting from one foot to the other, he tried to relax his tense muscles. “He did not die in battle. He died because of me. I consistently irritated our commander with my overconfidentrecommendations. When he didn’t take my advice, I’d remind him of my social standing and where I should be placed in the troops. Fed up with my antics, he thought to teach me a lesson by making me night watchman for a whole week. After several days of little sleep, Harvey offered to take my shift. In the morning”—Alan swallowed hard— “he was gone.”
He closed his eyes, and several memories flashed behind his lids, each one more painful than the last.
A soft hand settled on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“It’s just me,” Grace cooed as if speaking to a skittish horse. Her hand settled back on his shoulder and she rubbed a gentle circle there.
The gentle touch soothed his battered soul as he stared into her intense brown eyes.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
“Our commander, Lord Ratford, was a traitor. He meant for his associate to kill me, but Harvey had taken my place, and Sancerre could not tell the difference between us in the dark.” An uncomfortable stinging pricked the back of Alan’s eyes. “It is my fault Harvey is dead.”
Chapter 14
Lord Gladsby’s muscles bunched under Grace’s fingertips. Why she’d not removed her hand from his shoulder, she still did not know. He was obviously distraught. Would her touch comfort him or distress him more?
“It is not your fault,” she said softly. “Lord Ratford was to blame.”
Lord Gladsby’s dull eyes blazed to life, and he stepped away from her touch. “Itismy fault. I was the one who convinced Harvey to go to war. I was arrogant and impetuous and utterly stupid. If I’d been standing guard that night, Harvey would never have died.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, if you had died, who would have saved your sister from Ratford and Sancerre?”
His eyebrows lowered over icy blue eyes. “That’s just it. If I hadn’t become a spy, they would never have gone after her. Perhaps my father would have been spared the stress of not knowing whether I was dead or alive.”
She frowned. “Yes, because he would have known you were dead.”
