Page 16 of Yielding to Love

Chapter Seven

Camellia read aloud from her book of poems, Lyrical Ballads, continuing even after Neville fell asleep in his new chair. He’d said he liked the sun on his face. Camellia imagined the warmth would be pleasant, but she still shaded her own face with her bonnet to preserve her complexion as she had been taught.

From time to time, she glanced around at the lush, well-tended flowers. There were two other men on the terrace, also dozing in the sun. It was a peaceful spot. Dull and peaceful.

Glancing up once again, she was startled to see Major Taverston coming toward them with a brisk stride and a stern expression. She had thought, after embarrassing herself at the bookshop, that she didn’t want to encounter him again; yet she had looked for him each day and had been disappointed when he didn’t come calling.

He was in uniform and appeared quite dashing. She watched him take note of the three sleeping veterans, then slow his pace. He didn’t call out a greeting and neither did she. Upon reaching her, he murmured with no preliminaries, “Will you step over toward the roses with me? So we can talk without waking anyone?”

“All right.” She rose and set down her book. He glanced at it, then gestured for her to come along, but did not offer his arm. So this was not to be a pleasant stroll about the terrace.

As they walked toward the far edge, he nodded back toward the seats and recited, “‘I heard a thousand blended notes, while in a grove I sate reclined.’”

She finished the stanza. “‘In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.’”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Is Wordsworth your favorite poet? Or Coleridge?”

“I don’t believe I have a favorite. But I do admire them both.” He didn’t press for a better answer, so she asked, “Who is yours?”

“Currently?” He cocked his head to one side. “I’d have to say Donne. Old-fashioned, I know, but he’s very clever.”

“You must mean his religious themes.” Donne’s love poetry was shocking.

He seemed to freeze for a moment, then slid a sidelong glance at her. Assessing. She made an exaggeratedly prim little moue. His eyes lit. “Those, too.”

She laughed softly as they reached the railing, but his countenance abruptly changed from friendly back to stern. “Miss Harrington, I have some disturbing news. Can you keep a confidence?”

What a horrible thing to ask. “Better than you can, evidently.”

His lips twitched. “Ah. Touché.” Then he frowned again. “There is pox in the hospital. You should remove your brother at once.”

“Pox?” Breath left her chest, and she caught the railing for support. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

“You understand it serves no purpose to terrify men who have no means of fleeing. The physicians will do their best to contain the disease, but it is likely to spread.”

She pressed her hand to her mouth, holding back a scream or an oath. Through her fingers, she whispered, “I can’t move him. Not without Mr. Cooper’s help. And he won’t leave London. Not just now.”

Neville had said Cooper didn’t trust the bounder not to run off. It seemed to Camellia that being forced to wed a man so untrustworthy was as terrible a fate as the alternative.

Of course, she couldn’t explain this to Major Taverston. She wasn’t supposed to know about such indelicate things at all, let alone as much as she now did. She’d told the story to Marianne, who’d gasped, “Good gracious! The silly girl should have taken precautions!” When Camellia had asked what she meant, Marianne gave her a graphic description of how to prevent pregnancy with a vinegar douche. And then, she’d lent her that book…Camellia hadn’t even known how a lady got with child, not in precise detail, but now she knew both how to and how not to. At least, in theory. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or saddened she’d never know in actuality. Though if she had a husband now, she and Neville wouldn’t be in such a precarious place.

Major Taverston tapped his fingers against the railing, brow furrowed as if deep in thought. “I cannot offer my brother’s house. There is a slight chance, you understand, that the colonel has already been exposed. And there are children—”

“Of course you can’t take Neville in! We would never ask it.” Frustration gripped her. “I cannot ask the Stirlings either.”

“So,” he went on, “we must take him to Tonbridge. At once.”

“We?”

“Miss Harrington, unless you have another solution, I think you should accept mine. I can borrow one of my brother’s carriages. If we leave quickly, we can be there before dark.”

She stared at him. She could not believe what he was offering. “Why would you do this?”

He didn’t answer right away. He frowned and directed his gaze toward the roses before he uttered, “He was my commander.”

That hardly seemed reason enough. “I should refuse.” She bit her lip. Could she trust him? “Major, it is too generous of you.”

“No, it is the very least I can do.” He gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles whitened. “I must leave all these unfortunate men to their fates, knowing it is kinder not to warn them when I can do nothing for them.” His voice shook. “The war is over, yet there is no end to death.” He turned to face her, his expression a bit frantic. “Removing the colonel to safety is the one thing I can do. Please don’t deny me this.”