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Hebe, feeling she had established a suitably light tone to the conversation, allowed herself to look directly at Alex. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time. She had grown accustomed very rapidly to Alex’s extraordinary good looks: for her that was a minor detail in how she felt about him.
Now, knowing she was losing him, knowing she was perhaps seeing him for the last time, her eyes hungrily recorded every detail. The way his hair grew at his temples, the depth of colour of his eyes, the exact curve of his ear. She remembered the incredible softness of the skin behind his ears, the tautness of the tendons of his neck under her spread fingers.
Her body recalled the strength of his as it lay against her own, the heat of him, the scent of him and she longed for his touch. He ran his hand though his hair and immediately she knew how the spring of it would feel against her own palm.
Her whole body ached for him. She closed her eyes and could see the rangy, naked form, the patches of light and dark where tan met protected skin, the long, strong muscles that had kept him going despite a raging fever, past the point of exhaustion, to protect her. She could trace in her mind the dark hair on his chest, the narrowing trail of it going lower, lower…
Hebe’s eyes snapped open and she realised that only a few moments had passed since she had last spoken.
‘You are doubtless right,’ he said drily, getting to his feet.
Right? What about? Hebe had no recollection of what she had said and now he was going out of her life. She had to say something, she had to touch him, kiss him one last time.
A chair moved in the salon behind them, its legs grating on the tiled floor as its occupant shifted slightly. It was enough warning. Hebe got to her feet, holding out her hand. ‘Goodbye then, Alex. You know how I feel about what you did for me, I can nev
er repay that. I wish you very happy.’
He took her hand and reached for the other, carrying them both to his lips in an unconventional salutation. ‘Goodbye, my Circe. Be careful who you enchant next: I do not think you have any idea of your own power.’
And then Alex Beresford was gone out of her life forever.
Chapter Sixteen
Hebe expected to find herself on a ship bound for England within a week or two, but in the end it was six weeks before she left Gibraltar.
Lady Latham had expected it would be an easy matter to find a respectable lady to entrust her stepdaughter to, but by ill chance no one she considered suitable was embarking for home. And Hebe’s health and spirits were giving her cause for concern as well. Hebe, despite doing her best to look lively and interested in the diversions offered her, spent most of her time inside, growing paler and thinner.
Try as she might, she could not feel quite well: her back ached, she felt slightly light-headed and her appetite had vanished. She rebuked herself for moping, but in fact she managed quite successfully not to brood about Alex every moment of the day. It was difficult at night not to lie awake, staring open-eyed into the darkness and wondering where he was and what he was doing, but Hebe had a strong vein of common sense and even more courage, and she knew she could not fall into a decline over this. He was gone, and somehow she had the rest of her life to get on with.
Then the news came that Sir Richard had been promoted to Rear Admiral and was being posted back to Malta and Sara was faced with the decision of taking Hebe back with her or sending her on the voyage to England and her aunt.
‘I do not know what to do for the best, dearest,’ she said, looking anxiously at her stepdaughter. ‘I worry about you spending another summer in all that heat when you are so pale and tired, but I cannot send you back to England by yourself.’
‘If you will excuse me, my lady,’ Anna interjected. ‘Would you consider me accompanying Hebe? I would like to go to England, if you permit it.’
‘Hebe?’ Sara regarded her pale face. ‘Would you like that?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Hebe smiled gratefully. ‘I would like that very much.’
Somehow she had grown to dislike Gibraltar intensely. She could not settle, she felt completely rootless there. And the thought of going back to Malta, where she had been so happy, felt like returning to a hollow dream. England was different, England held no memories, she had left there when she was very young. And somewhere there, although she would never see him, was Alex.
‘I do not want to leave you, Mama, only…’
‘I know, dearest. You deserve your come-out and your holiday. And I will feel happier about your health with all those good London doctors at hand.’
The voyage, once the tearful farewells had been made, was calm and uneventful, marred only by Hebe suddenly becoming seasick. ‘I do not understand it,’ she puzzled to Anna. ‘I had no trouble at all before, even in that dreadful storm when Maria and Mama were so poorly, and here I am, in the gentlest of swells, unable to stomach my breakfast.’
Anna said little, concentrating on keeping Hebe warm, making sure she got some exercise and persuading tempting morsels out of the ship’s cook to coax Hebe into eating.
Despite the light winds, they made good time and within two weeks had reached Portsmouth. Sir Richard had sent a message ahead to reserve them rooms at a respectable widow’s lodging house, for Hebe’s aunt would not know when to expect her and they would have to spend several days in the port before arrangements could be made.
Anna inspected the accommodation with a critical eye, but expressed herself satisfied with the two bedchambers and little private parlour. Hebe, swaying somewhat and unable to get her land-legs again, was sent firmly off to bed with the promise that she should write to her aunt the next morning.
But the next day when she ventured into the parlour she found Anna sitting at the table, an almanac open before her and a serious expression on her face.
‘Anna? Is something wrong?’
‘I hope not, ducky.’ Anna had shed almost all her Spanish phrases after several weeks of talking nothing but English and even her cockney accent was beginning to disappear. ‘Come and sit down.’ She bit her lip and seemed, uncharacteristically, lost for words. Eventually she said, ‘How long is it since you crossed the border into Spain?’
