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not to walk.
He paid off the man and began to make his way downhill. He did not under stand what he felt for Julia Tresilian, but it was powerful, too powerful to resist without pain.
The physical yearning for her was stronger than for any woman he had ever wanted, but perhaps that was simply the result of denying himself another taste of her. The urge to protect her was as visceral as the instinct he had to shield his sisters from harm. He liked her. He liked her honesty and her intelligence and her humour. He had stopped drinking and had not looked at another woman for her, although she had not asked it of him.
He admired the dogged way she set about husband-hunting when he knew she found it distasteful. Through his carelessness he had scared off her two serious suitors. Hal’s pace slowed until he stopped; he put one foot on a low wall and looked out at the lights of the Lower Town. He discovered he was examining his conscience: an un familiar exercise.
Was it carelessness or had he intended to drive those men off? He was not sure he wanted to know the truth about that. And he certainly did not relish telling Julia that the remaining candidate, Colonel Williams, had maintained a mistress for many years and had done so when his wife was alive. But he would do if he thought she was going to marry the man: she should know something like that.
So, now she was back where she had begun, only out of pocket, perhaps in debt, for all her gowns. Would that make him an acceptable suitor?
The idea, the very fact he was even contemplating such a thing, shook him. And yet, here he was, thinking about marriage. He had a small estate of his own, she might like that. Her mother and Phillip could live there. He could afford to bring her up to Town for the Season every year, when he was in England.
When he was in England. A group of soldiers with their whores passed him, drunk and cheer fully noisy, but Hal hardly heard them. He was a soldier, that was what he did. But what if there was no more soldiering to be done? Could he settle down like his brother, manage his land, raise a brood of children? They’d be quite hand some children, he decided, almost dreamily, putting together his features and Julia’s.
Someone jostled him from behind. Hal swung round, the light dress sword sliding out of the scabbard, the hilt firm in his hand, and the man, a hulking figure in a shabby great coat, shambled off hurriedly.
A drunk? A thief? Or a little reminder from Hebden? Hebden, who associated Julia with him, who could have watched them tonight. It seemed difficult to realize that this elusive and implacable enemy was the same seven year old who had played with Marcus in the woods and streams for a long hot summer while Hal, two years younger, had tagged along behind, falling over his wooden sword and demanding piggyback rides.
And now their old playmate did not just want the Carlow men to suffer, but wanted to make them do it through their women as well. Was Julia Hal’s woman? Would she want to be? He thrust the slim blade back into its scabbard and walked on, all his senses alert now. She was, he thought without vanity, aware of him as a man, although she was too innocent to recognize what that meant. She liked him and trusted him or she would not have gone with him tonight or confided as easily as she had.
And there had been that moment when he had asked her about her feelings for Smyth and he thought she was going to say she loved someone. Him?
If only he under stood what that meant. Marcus had gone up like dry wood in the path of a forest fire when he met Nell, even though he had every reason to distrust the woman who was now his wife. Hal supposed he could write and ask how you knew when you were in love. How you knew if a woman loved you. And he could be teased for the rest of his life, he concluded, trying to imagine his brother’s face if he ever got such a letter.
Unless they got the order to march between now and ten tomorrow night, he and Julia would both be at the duchess’s ball, he realized, feeling rather more apprehensive than he had last time he had eyed a row of French artillery all pointed in his direction at short range.
He reached the main street leading to the Anvers Gate and had to wait while a stream of carriages and carts rumbled past, all intent, he supposed, on running for Antwerp. Julia did not seem to have the same sense of urgency about evacuating Brussels as those people did. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks for vander Helvig and his amiable agreement to look after the Tresilians.
‘Carlow?’ Will Grey was standing on the steps of their hotel, hands on his hips and an expression of bemused amusement on his face. ‘What the devil’s the matter with you? You’ve a damn-fool look on your face, you’re muttering and that last carriage nearly ran you down.’
‘Will.’ Hal looked at his best friend’s smiling face and found he had no idea what he wanted to say, or do.
‘Bloody hell, you’ve done it!’ Will bounded down the steps and buffeted him hard enough on the back to send him staggering.
‘What?’
‘Asked Miss Tresilian to marry you.’ Will took him by the shoulders and stared at him. ‘My God, the worst rake in the Hussars, leg-shackled. She’s a brave woman if she’s taking you on, I’ll say that for her.’
‘I haven’t asked her.’ Hal got a grip on the railings and fended his friend off. He really could not face being warmly embraced by Will Grey, whiskers and all, on a public street. And his friend’s words ran through him like a sabre thrust. To ask a girl like Julia to marry a man like him was not the action of a gentleman. His honour would not let him do it, and he would just have to live with the consequences.
‘Why the hell not?’
‘For all the reasons you said. I can’t ask it of her, she’s too innocent to under stand what I am, the life I’ve lived.’
‘Damn it…’ Grey blundered to a halt, his face reflecting both his agreement and his regret.
‘Look, Will, if I don’t…if I’m not in a position to look after her, will you get her back to England? Ask my brother Stanegate to keep an eye on her?’
They knew each other too well, and knew the risks only too clearly, for Will to make any false protestations or to pretend he did not under stand what Hal was alluding to. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I’ll make sure she is all right.’
Then he threw an arm around Hal’s shoulders and towed him towards the front door. ‘We’ve got deployment orders to go over, just come down the hill from the duke. I hope you weren’t expecting to sleep tonight.’
Hal shook his head. After studying the papers, they’d need to ride out to their troops, get them into marching order, check on provisioning and then, if they were lucky, get back in time to change and dine before tomorrow night’s ball. Excitement and a fierce focus gripped him: this was what he lived for. At the back of his mind was the nagging certainty that Julia would be appalled to know he was happy about the prospect of the next few days. He pushed the thought aside: the important thing was to make certain she was completely sheltered from the realities of what was going to happen.
‘Julia!’ Mrs Tresilian thrust the door open and arrived panting in their sitting room. ‘There are soldiers all over town with armloads of swords, taking them to be sharpened! And the banks are closed again.’ She sat down on the sofa and fanned herself with a journal.
‘We should pack,’ Julia said, leaning down to untie her mother’s bonnet. ‘And send to the baron to ask for the use of a carriage to go to Antwerp.’
