The Secret Pearl(118)

“How did it happen?” she asked him quietly.

“This?” he said, indicating his scar with his free hand. “I have very little memory of just what occurred. It was at the Battle of Waterloo, of course. I was with the infantry. We were in square, holding a cavalry charge at bay. But it was very frightening for some of the younger boys—and for all of us, I suppose—to see cavalry charging at us and to have only bayonets and the other men forming the square as a defense. It is a good defense, almost impregnable, in fact, but it does not feel safe. A few of our men panicked and turned away together. I leapt forward to try to hearten them and make sure that the square was not broken, and got caught on the face by a bayonet.”

Fleur grimaced.

“Not even an enemy’s,” he said, smiling. “Ironic, is it not? I believe I can recall the sharp pain and my hand coming away all red from my face. That is the last I remember. A shell must have hit at that moment and caused the other wounds.”

“You were almost a year recovering,” she said. “You must have suffered a great deal.”

“I believe so,” he said. “Mercifully, I seem to have been somewhat out of my head during the worst of it. It was hard, though, to adjust my mind to the knowledge that I would carry around the visible effects of what happened for the rest of my life.”

“The wounds still hurt sometimes?” she said.

“Not often.” He smiled at her again.

“I have seen you limping,” she said.

“When I am tired or under some stress,” he said. “That is when Sidney, my man, plays tyrant and orders me to submit myself to a massage. He has a most impertinent tongue and magic hands.”

She smiled at him. “Why did you go?” she asked. “If you were a duke, it would have been most unusual for you to be a part of the army, especially as an infantry officer. Did you not have a happy childhood?”

“Quite the contrary,” he said. “I was privileged and happy and sheltered. No human being is entitled to enjoy such a life without paying back a little. There were thousands of men fighting for our country who really owed it almost nothing except their birth. And yet to them it was worth fighting for. The least I could do was fight alongside them.”

“Tell me about your childhood,” she said.

He smiled. “That is a large question,” he said. “Do you want to hear about what a good little boy I was or about what a rogue I could be? Unfortunately, I sometimes drove my father to distraction. And the footmen. One poor fellow who lived in terror of ghosts and devils found two in the grand hall. Two named Adam and Thomas, who inhabited the gallery and made strange noises when he was on duty during the evenings. They haunted him for three whole weeks before they were finally caught. I can still feel the walloping I had for that. I believe I had to lie facedown on my bed for at least a couple of hours afterward.”

She laughed.

“It was a wonderful childhood,” he said. “We were Greek gods among the temples and Vikings on the lake and bear hunters by the cascades. Our father used to spend a great deal of time with us, teaching us to fish and to shoot and ride. My stepmother taught me how to play the pianoforte, though I do not have your talent. And she taught us to dance. There was always a great deal of laughter during those lessons. She used to accuse us both of having two left feet.”

“And yet you dance so well now,” Fleur said.

“I wish Pamela’s childhood could be as happy,” he said. “I wish there could have been other children. I always wanted a large family.”

He realized what he had said when she looked inquiringly at him.

“I will devote myself to her happiness when I go home,” he said. “I’ll stay with her. I’ll not leave her again.”

He closed his eyes and braced one booted foot against the seat opposite. It was late afternoon. The drowsy hour.

He had never voiced that dream before—the dream of sons of his own, and daughters too, running free at Willoughby, their shouts and laughter bringing the place alive again. It was not fair to Pamela that she be so alone.

His children and Fleur’s. They would take them riding and picnicking and boating. And fishing too. He would teach Fleur to fish. And she would teach the children to play the pianoforte, and herself play for their entertainment some evenings. And together they would teach their children to dance. They would teach them to waltz.

And he would love her by night. He would sleep with her all night and every night in the large canopied bed that had been his father’s before him and that had never held a woman since his father’s death. And he would fill her with his seed. He would watch her grow with his children. And he would watch those children being born and watch her giving birth to them.