“Some,” admitted Lucien.
“We’re here for a week,” Nicholas said and left it at that. “Come andhelp yourself to sherry. You’ll have gathered we’re not standing onceremony.”
The conversation was all of Napoleon. Stephen, a slender blond man withshrewd, heavy-lidded eyes, was concerned with alliances and the balance ofpower; Dare couldn’t quite suppress his excitement; Amleigh was angry withthe resolute anger of the professional soldier.
They all turned as Eleanor entered the room with Hal Beaumont at herside.
He looked the same, Lucien thought. Almost. They hadn’t met for fouryears, and heaven knew what Hal had experienced in that time. There werenew lines in his face, but his smile still quirked to the right, his darkhair still waved handsomely, and he was even taller and stronger than hehad been at twenty-one. Lucien was filled with tremendous joy that hisfriend was still alive.
“Hal!” Lucien went forward and took his friend’s right hand in his own.His eyes went irresistibly to the empty sleeve tucked in between thebuttons of his friend’s jacket, and he felt a surge of rage at fate. Andan awareness of frustrating impotence. This was something neither wealthnor rank could alter.
Hal read his face and shrugged. “There are worse things. The devil ofit is, I won’t be able to take my turn at bashing Boney.” He in turn gaveLucien the once-over. “You look suitably rich and powerful, Luce.”
Lucien took refuge in the familiar teasing about his high estate.“Noblesse oblige, old boy. Can’t have the higher aristocracy groveling inthe gutter.”
“Assuredly not. Personally, I think you should wear strawberry leavesaround your hat.”
“I’m saving that for when I’m duke.”
By then everyone else had gathered around, conversation became general,and Lucien had opportunity to try to come to terms with it all. He’d hadfriends who’d died in the war but none until now who’d been maimed. It waseasy to forget the dead, or at least remember them as they had been, butHal was a living reminder of suffering.
He looked at Amleigh and Debenham and wondered if this evidence of theconsequences of war gave them pause. Or whether, as with him, it created arenewed desire to fight ? to get revenge but also to assuage his guilt.Guilt he felt because he’d been here in England ? getting drunk, dancingat Almack’s, making love to Blanche ? when that cannon had exploded, whenthe army surgeons had hacked off what remained of his friend’s arm.
Even as he thought all this, he was smiling and adding the odd quip tothe light-hearted conversation. They all knew there was no point inmiserying over the matter, and Hal would hate it.
And, of course, the Marquess of Arden couldn’t take the easy way outand go off to suffer and die. He had to marry and produce the nextgeneration of great and noble de Vaux.
Which brought everything, as always, back to Elizabeth Armitage ? whomhe didn’t trust but sometimes liked, and who, despite being so damnedordinary, was far too often in his mind.
Eleanor once more had the baby and was playing a silly game whichseemed to involve talking nonsense and rubbing noses. It made sense toArabel, at least, for she was smiling and making happy gurgles whichsounded like a language of its own. A nursemaid was hovering ready to takethe child away, but Eleanor was clearly in no hurry to part with herchild.
Nicholas was being a good host and even taking part in the discussion,but half his mind was clearly on his wife and child, and probably alwayswas. Lucien suspected Nicholas would rather be part of that strangegurgling conversation than discussing the amazing pig-faced woman withDare. Lucien caught at least two shared glances between Nicholas andEleanor which spoke of the joy they found in each other’s presence, evenhinted at more private, familiar, and anticipated delights.
He remembered he had once thought that Eleanor Delaney was the kind ofwife he’d like as opposed to Phoebe Swinnamer who seemed to be the kind ofwife he was expected to choose. All the candidates for Marchioness ofArden had seemed to be beautiful, well-bred fashion dolls with just brainenough to master polite conversation. Eleanor Delaney had a shrewd brainand a pleasantly natural manner.
Nicholas topped up Lucien’s glass and followed his gaze to his wife.“She’s still taken,” he said lightly but added more seriously, “A newlybetrothed man shouldn’t be looking at another man’s wife quite like that,you know.”
It was an opening, deliberately given. Lucien wasn’t ready to bare hisheart, but he Would appreciate any scraps of wisdom. “I was justwondering,” he said lightly, “if you ever felt the urge to throttleher.”
Nicholas quirked a brow. “Just because she left you holding thebaby?”
“Not Eleanor. Elizabeth.”
Nicholas looked puzzled for a minute but then smiled. “Ah, yourElizabeth. Want to throttle her, do you? I could suggest,” he said with agrin, “that it is in lieu of other forms of intimate contact.” He sobered.“But no, I never felt that urge. But then we hardly had a normal courtshipand Eleanor is not one to stir the coals. And I ...” he added, smiling inself-mockery, “I have always prided myself on controlling everything,including my emotions.”
Lucien wondered what lay behind the slightly bitter tone. “Whereas I,”he responded to pass the moment off, “being a de Vaux, have never felt theslightest need for self-control in my whole life.”
Nicholas laughed. “Hardly fair on yourself. So, what does your futuremarchioness do to stir the coals?”
Lucien found it difficult to express concisely the hundred ways BethArmitage churned up his emotions, and so he fastened on the most obviousproblem. “She’s a follower of Mary Wollstonecraft.”
Nicholas was raising his glass to his lips. It froze. A spark ofincredulous humor lit his eyes, escaping in a full laugh. Wine splashedfrom the glass. “God Almighty!” he exclaimed when he’d got control ofhimself. “The whole story. Now.”
Everyone else had turned to listen, and Lucien realized he’d gone toofar. He shrugged and simply said, “Sorry.”
Nicholas sobered and nodded. “Doubtless illegal,” he said smoothly.“Can’t have things like that with Stephen in the room.” Again, he said,“We’re here for a week.”
Not having heard the first part of the conversation, the others weresatisfied with this and conversation became general again. Nicholas madeno attempt to pry, and though Lucien was aware of a few thoughtful looksfrom his host, there was no further reference to his personal life. Hereally didn’t know if he wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk withNicholas at all. There were too many secrets involved.
