Page 30 of Until I’m Safe in Your Arms

Alex threw himself backward, trying in vain to escape from beneath the crinoline cage only to get caught in the myriad layers of silk and ruffles. “Just a minute,” he called frantically. Good God, don’t let anyone catch them in this lewd position. It would be the scandal of the Little Season.

Emma grabbed the edge of her skirt and jerked it up over his head, freeing him at last.

He glanced up at her, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, fear in every line of her face. “It’s all right. I’ll see who it is and get rid of them. It’s likely only a waiter wanting to clear.”

She nodded, then sat back in the chair, breathing hard.

Running a hand through his already tousled hair, Alex leaped to his feet, tugged his jacket into some semblance of order, then went to the door. Pulling himself up to his full height, he assumed a stern, displeased visage, and opened the door. “We are not—”

The words of dismissal died on his lips as he registered the form and florid face of Colonel Bray, the commanding officer for his regiment.

“Captain Bancroft. Well met, shhir.” The slurred word gave Alex an idea of what the colonel had been doing this evening. “Thought I’d seen you come this way with yer wife. Pretty little thing. Can’t miss that. Checked with th’ waiter to make shhure, though, which room you’re in.”

“I’m honored that you would seek me out to say good evening, Colonel Bray.” Alex hoped to God he wasn’t as disheveled as he felt. He badly wanted to smooth down his hair once more, but didn’t dare call attention to his scruffy appearance.

“N’tall, Captain. Wanted t’ have a word with you as the t-t-topic of conversation at dinner happened to be about the upcoming deployment of the thhhhirtiethhhh.” The colonel staggered toward him, the smell of port hanging heavily around his head.

“Indeed, sir.” Alex peered at the man, bewildered. Why had Bray sought him out? He wasn’t a familiar of the colonel at all. “Have we a date for departure for Canada now?”

“N’ date yet, but I thought I ought to speak a word to you about the des…des…tination.” Colonel Bray bent toward Alex’s ear, as if about to impart a secret. “You need to keep this dry, Bancroft, but the regiment very well may be going in the opp…opposite direction.”

Alex frowned, confused. What was the man talking about? “You don’t mean we’re going back to the Crimea, do you, sir?”

“I do not.” The colonel straightened up, pointing a finger toward the ceiling, then grabbed Alex’s shoulder and leaned in again. “Think farther east.” He nodded and gave Alex a wink. “I’ve heard your bride’s just returned from there.”

Alex froze, appalled at what the man was suggesting.

“By the by, felicitations on your recent marriage, old chap.” He patted Alex’s shoulder. “Thought you’d like to know. I hope your lady wants to return to the Orient. Five years would be a long time to be without her.”

“Is India assured, Colonel Bray?” Mind racing, Alex could only hope the colonel’s low tones hadn’t reached Emma’s ears.

“Shhh! Not yet, not yet.” Hay put his finger to his lips. “There’s only talk at the moment, but those who’re doin’ the talkin’ are the one’s who’ll do the decidin’.”

That was what Alex was afraid of. “I see. Thank you, Colonel Bray, for giving me advance notice. I’ll have to confer with my wife if the decision is made for India.”

“Shhh, Bancroft. Keep it dry, Captain. Very dry.” He laid his finger by his nose.

“I will, sir. You have my word on it.” He’d take it to his grave if he lived that long. He could only hope the colonel would do so as well, despite his inebriated state. “Good evening, sir.”

“G’d evenin’, Bancroft.” The older gentleman turned away, weaving and muttering as he left.

Alex stood at the door, not knowing what to think. Had Bray been so deep in his cups he’d misspoken about the regiment’s change in postings? As much as he’d like to believe that, he doubted it. The topic would have to have been raised at the general’s table for him to have had an inkling of the idea. It didn’t seem likely he’d have made it up out of whole cloth. Even in his brandy befuddled haze, Bray had made the connection between Emma and India, suggesting the change had at least been discussed at his table. No, he had to assume the idea was, unfortunately, being considered.

Which made his most immediate dilemma whether or not to tell Emma.

If the rumor was only that—and Alex doubted their Canadian billet that had been talked of for months would be abandoned on a whim—then he really didn’t need to mention it to his wife. Such gossip would only upset her terribly, and why should he do that when there was no real reason to believe it would ever come to pass? He’d check in at headquarters tomorrow and see if he could ascertain the truth. Whenever he knew something for certain would be plenty of time to inform Emma. Then together, they could plan for the sad but inevitable lengthy separation. And separation it must be. He’d no sooner ask his wife to return to the land that had terrorized her than he’d ask her to live on the moon.

“Who was that, Alex?”

He whipped around to find Emma standing directly behind him. How long had she been there? What had she heard?

Putting on a cheerful face, Alex took her arm and led her back into the room. “Colonel Bray wishing us felicitations on our marriage, my dear.”

“How odd that he should choose to do it here.”

“He was pretty well in his cups.”

She nodded, then her brow puckered. “You look ill, dearest. Like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Are you certain that was all the colonel said to you?”