“Mmm.” She lay watching as he dressed.
When he was ready, he took a flat box from his pocket with a trace ofhesitation and came back to sit on the bed. “There’s always been morebetween you and me, Blanche, than payment,” he said. “Can you take thisgift in friendship, with my gratitude? I never have enough friends.”
Blanche had expected a gift, and in a way she had dreaded it. Itsmacked too much of a baser relationship. She felt tears tickling the backof her eyes at his sensitivity, even though she should have expected it.She opened the box to see a paper which proved to be the deed to the housein which they stood. She glanced at it, but her attention was snared bywhat was underneath ? a glittering rainbow of a necklace, exquisiteflowers of emerald green, sapphire blue, ruby red, and topaz yellow.
She gasped then laughed up at him. “Lucien, you gaby. What am Isupposed to do with this?”
He grinned. “Save it for your retirement?”
“I’ll wear it in private if I’m feeling low.” She gave him her sweetestsmile. “You will always have a friend in me, my dear, and,” she addedcarefully, “you need never fear I’ll try to be more.”
She looked down at the necklace for a moment and then back, frowningslightly. “I would like to say something else. About virtuous minds.There’s little I don’t know about men and women, love, and little Ihaven’t experienced, but you’ve always treated me as a woman of honor.Virtue is a standard society puts on us, often an unreasonable one. Honoris something within ourselves. Only we can give away our honor.”
Moved by her words, he kissed her hands and her lips. “I will alwayshonor you, Blanche.”
With that he was gone, and she could let the tears fall as she smiledat the ridiculously gaudy necklace.
Lucien impulsively stopped by at White’s. He was in no mood for his owncompany and found the Belcraven mansion a bleak place unless filled withguests. He was rewarded by the sight of Con Somerford, Viscount Amleigh.The dark-haired young man was frowning as he read the day’sTimes.
When he heard his name, he looked up, and the frown was replaced by asmile. “Good day. Luce.”
“It’s good to see a friendly face. Con,” Lucien said as he took theviscount’s hand. “I’d no real hope of meeting anyone I knew. I thoughteveryone would be in Melton still.”
“Was,” said the handsome young viscount as he summoned more of theclaret he was drinking. “Couldn’t keep my mind on foxes with all thisgoing on.” He waved the paper. “Anyway, I heard Nicholas was in Town.”
That could only be the Honorable Nicholas Delaney, leader of theschoolboy clique to which they had both belonged and which had beenrevived the year before for more serious business. “Nick’s here? Why?”
“Same thing,” said Con, indicating the paper. The viscount’s gray eyesturned bleak. “There’s nothing to do, of course, but he must feel as sickas I do over it after all he did last year.” He looked soberly into hiswine. “I’m rejoining my regiment.”
Lucien felt a chill. “It’ll come to that again?”
“Bound to.”
“God damn it all, someone should have shot the Corsican.” Lucienthought of all the friends who had lost their lives in the long war. Wasit all to do again? “I wish to heaven I felt free to fight. Perhaps if Ihave a son . . .”
Con looked at him quizzically. “I don’t think Boney’ll wait that long.You’re not even married yet.”
“As good as,” Lucien admitted. “Notice is in the papers. Doubtless inthat very one you’re reading.”
The viscount blinked in astonishment but then raised his glass.“Congratulations! The Swinnamer girl?”
“No,” said Lucien, making a snap decision not to reveal the truth tothis or any other friend. “You won’t know her. Name of Elizabeth Armitage.From Gloucestershire.”
“Knocked you for a loop, has she?” remarked the viscount, clearly notgiving the matter much attention. “Even so, old boy, I don’t think thequestion of Napoleon will last ten months or so. It’ll be this summer andyou’d do best to stay home. It’ll be bloody.”
“What of you? You have responsibilities now.” Con had sold out the yearbefore when he inherited the title.
“I’ve got two brothers,” said Con carelessly. “Dare’s offered hisservices at the Horse Guards, too. I think we’re the only two who aren’tthe sole dependence of their families so we have to do our bit.” He meantthe only two of the Company of Rogues. He took a swig of claret. “ExceptMiles, I suppose. But he has some Irish notion about not serving thecrown.... But look,” he said in a brighter manner, “we’re invited over toNicholas’s tonight. You must come.”
“We?”
“Stephen’s in town,” Con said in a sonorous tone, “being an importantman in the government.” Stephen Ball was member for Barham. “And HalBeaumont’s here.”
“Hal!” exclaimed Lucien, a grin starting. Hal Beaumont had been hisclosest friend until their paths had split when Hal joined a line regimentand was posted to the American war. “I haven’t heard from him in over ayear. Thought he was still in Canada.”
“Part of him still is,” Con said gently. “He’s lost an arm.”
“Christ.” Lucien stared at his friend numbly. He and Hal had beenpartners in so many youthful adventures, most of them depending on superbphysical condition.
