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‘Julia.’ Hal had followed her after all. He took her arm, pulling her behind one of the long tapestries that draped the walls hiding recesses and doorways. ‘The Prussians have been defeated at Ligny,’ he said without preliminaries. ‘I must go now, we all must. Find Lady Geraldine and leave with her. When you get home, tell your mother to send to the baron at once. You must leave at first light.’
‘Hal.’ Julia found she was clinging to his arm, the anger melting into something else in her fear for him. ‘I don’t want to part with you feeling like this, so angry.’
‘I know.’ He smiled and ran his fingers down her cheek. ‘I didn’t know you could be, I thought you were always quiet and ladylike. It is quite a stimulating revelation.’
‘Well, after the picnic, nothing about me has ever seemed to stimulate you,’ she retorted, not sure whether it was the memory of his excuses for not proposing or her fear for him making her so snappish.
‘Were my efforts at self-control so successful then?’ he asked, his hand slipping round to cup the back of her head.
‘Extremely. I might have been your sister.’
‘Hardly,’ he said dryly. ‘But I am not used to good girls, Julia. I am not fit for them, you know that.’
‘I am not a girl.’ His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. Very close, very big. Very, very dear. ‘And I am so tired of being good.’
It seemed he needed no other encouragement. Julia had yearned for a kiss, now, as his mouth closed over hers in expert possession, she was receiving one that fulfilled all her dreams.
One hand held her head still while his mouth moved over her lips, the other was at the small of her back, pressing her to him. His body was hard and hot, and her own arched into him without her having to even think, which was good, for thinking was becoming difficult. His mouth demanded something, and then she remembered and her lips opened for him.
Without hesitation he filled her, took everything she offered and showed her more, so that her tongue tangled with his and her breasts ached and tightened as she was crushed to him and her hands knew just where to touch the nape of his neck and make him moan into her mouth.
And then he released her, stood her away from him with his hands firm on her waist, and just stared at her. ‘My God, Julia.’
‘Oh.’ There did not seem much more to say, and besides, she was shaking.
She looked down at her trembling hands and so did he. ‘That is why you must not marry me. You see again that I am not to be trusted with virgins,’ he said bitterly.
‘Don’t you think the virgins might have a point of view?’ Julia said.
‘No. Not while I’ve the strength to behave like a gentleman.’ The dark, smouldering grey of his eyes showed the intensity of his emotion just as well as it hid what he was feeling.
‘Damn it, Julia, there are more decent men out there, not just Smyth or Fordyce or Williams—who has a mistress, by the way, don’t have him. Find another one and marry him.’
‘No. No, I realise now what was wrong with Thomas and Charles…they were not important to me,’ she said, watching the expression on his face in the shadowed niche.
Slowly he smiled. ‘You know how to drive a knife into the wound, don’t you, Julia? But this changes nothing of what I said upstairs, you know that.’
She murmured a protest, but he put two fingers against her lips. ‘Take great care. If there is anything—after the battle—and I am not around, go to Captain Grey.’
‘If you are killed,’ she murmured, almost frightened to say the word as though speaking it brought death into the room with them.
‘Yes. There is a good chance of that. I am a soldier, that is a fact of life—and death. If I do not come back, try and remember that I did what I thought was right for you.’
How can he be so matter of fact about it? How can he want to go into battle? Yes, he will do his duty because he is brave and honourable, but he is eager to fight. I wish I understood that. Des per ate to stop the tears that were welling up, Julia pulled open her reticule. ‘You must have another token,’ she said. ‘Something for a real battle, not just a ribbon for a race.’
Her fingers closed over the small notebook her father had given her. Barely two inches by three, it was covered on both sides in mother of pearl with Julia carved on it. She carried it every where, some times jotting a line of verse or a phrase that struck her, occasionally making a tiny pencil sketch.
‘Take this, please.’ She pressed it into his hands. She wanted to give him everything, give him herself.
Hal stood there holding it, tracing her name with his finger, then undid two buttons and slid it into the breast of his jacket. ‘Against my heart,’ he murmured. ‘Such as it is. Come.’
They emerged from behind the arras, un re marked. A tall, dashing man was on the low podium, every eye turned to him. ‘Lord Uxbridge,’ Hal murmured in her ear. ‘My cavalry commander.’
‘You gentlemen who have engaged partners had better finish your dance and get to your quarters as soon as you can,’ his lordship said crisply.
Distantly, Julia could hear the Duchess of Richmond, ‘But those of you who do not have to join the Army need not…please, stay…’
Hal stooped, his mouth hard on hers like a brand. When he lifted his head, his eyes held hers, dark and bleak. ‘Good bye.’ The unspoken word forever hung in the air between them. Then he was gone.
