Love and War Read online

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  New Concepts Publishing

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  Copyright ©2009 by Maggi Andersen

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

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  LOVE AND WAR

  By

  MAGGI ANDERSEN

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  © copyright by Maggi Andersen, April 2009

  Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, April 2009

  ISBN 978-1-60394-302-4

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  BATH, ENGLAND 1812

  The Grand Ballroom of the New Assembly rooms was a total crush. Selena Wakefield and her friend, Elsbeth Millichamp had wandered to a far corner away from the noise in an attempt to make themselves heard.

  "Pon rep, Amanda Somersby has all the available men at her feet, all of the time,” Elsbeth said crossly, watching as four young blades clustered around the girl with blue ribbons in her hair.

  "She's young and very pretty,” said Selena, searching the crowd for a familiar face.

  "If you admire blue-eyed blondes. I find them insipid."

  "Oh, no, Elsbeth, how can you say that?"

  "I prefer brunettes myself.” Elsbeth put her hand to her light-brown curls twisted at the back into an Indian knot. “Your hair is unusual, Selena."

  "It's just a drab brown,” Selena replied.

  "No, it is not. It's so dark a brown you could almost call it black. And with your green eyes and golden skin you are most unusual."

  "Too much time spent in the sun without my bonnet. Fair-skinned blondes are the fashion."

  "What does it matter?” Elsbeth said moodily. “At our age we are destined to be old-maids."

  Her friend's green eyes twinkled. “You could have married Freddie Goodwin."

  Elsbeth frowned. “Freddie was too forthright. He offended my sensibilities. Now I'm four and twenty and don't have a prospect in the world."

  "Where is Freddie now?"

  "He's working for his father's importing company up in London, the last I heard. Not that I'm in any way interested."

  "Of course you are not.” Selena laughed.

  Elsbeth smoothed the skirts of her white crepe gown. “Dare you to talk, Selena. You refused an earl no less. Lord Devereux, did you not? And on more than one occasion. I wouldn't have. He's devilishly handsome."

  Selena gazed off into the distance. “You are being contradictory, Elsbeth, Devereux is a blue-eyed blond."

  "It doesn't apply to him.” Elsbeth gave a little shiver of delight. “And you've never quite told me why you refused him. I have heard it said he's rolled-up and his estates are entailed."

  "I believe so."

  "Not a fudge then. But your Papa left you plump in the pocket, so that can't be the reason."

  "It wasn't,” Selena said vaguely.

  "I can see you are not going to tell me. And where is he now?"

  "I believe he's just resigned his Commission from the Hussars."

  "Not that you are interested,” Elsbeth said, her eyes sparkling.

  The musicians took their places and everyone moved to the dance floor for a quadrille.

  "Here comes Cousin John to ask me to dance. He's such a dear.” Elsbeth rose as a stocky man with a bristling moustache approached. “But now I must converse with him for a full half an hour!"

  Selena hid her smile as John bowed and gave Elsbeth his arm to lead her onto the floor.

  She found herself alone, despite the assembly rooms filled with many visitors to Bath. People milled about chatting when not dancing, playing cards and drinking the waters.

  Perhaps I am destined to be an old-maid, she thought. She loved her sister's children, but just being an aunt to someone else's had never been her plan. Gyles Devereux had only wanted her for her inheritance and made no secret of it. She sighed. She hadn't told Elsbeth about the other two men she'd refused. Since her father had died and left her a tidy fortune, offers had rained down like arrows. Her sister was forever matchmaking and no doubt before the month was out another hapless suitor would appear at dinner who bore no resemblance to Gyles.

  She gave herself a mental scold. She was not going to pine over an unrequited love. It was hardly a tragedy, and she certainly didn't intend to die an old maid because of it. Was she? Then why did she look for his face in the crowd at every dance and soirée she attended? She sighed. Living with her sister was a mixed blessing. She loved the boisterous, noisy household of three children and their menagerie of spoiled pets, and got on very well with her patient, brother-in-law, Hugh. But she longed for her own establishment and was ready to discover the delights her sister appeared to enjoy behind the bedroom door. Selena's face grew hot at the thought and she hurriedly unfurled her ivory fan and gave her face a brisk cooling as a portly gentleman crossed the room towards her.

  His damp hand held hers as they took their places among the dancers on the floor.

  * * * *

  At her sister, Anne's, insistence Selena found herself at the Upper Assembly rooms in Bath again the first Monday of the following month. It was crowded and she danced every dance, but when she settled among the potted palms with a glass of detestable Madeira that a young man had brought her, she admitted to herself she was bored to distraction.

  Her friend and companion on these occasions, Elsbeth, was away nursing a sick relative and Selena had never been very good at small talk with bare acquaintances. She loved to plunge into a brisk, political debate with someone of an opposite view, or discuss the latest news of the Duke of Wellington's exploits in Spain, when news finally reached them. She liked to be busy, washing the dogs or riding in the park, and was also quite content to spend an afternoon reading a book that pushed the boundaries of her knowledge. But to sit here and simper and curtsy and dance one interminable dance after another was a bore. She was pondering the possibilities of declaring a headache and retiring early, when a voice above her said, “Well, if it isn't Miss Selena Wakefield."

  She knew that deep, amused voice before she looked up. She could scarcely raise her head as her heart began to beat unnaturally fast.

  "Lord Devereux,” he said unnecessarily, as he bowed over her hand.

  "I may not be in the first flush of youth, Lord Devereux, but there's nothing wrong with my eyes or my memory."

  "Indeed. You are remarkably well preserved. Not a gray hair to be seen, for what, three and twenty?"

  "Last Tuesday."

  "Then please accept belated birthday wishes. May I join you?"

  "Certainly."

  He sat next to her on the small settee, his proximity making her heart beat faster. “I didn't know you liked Madeira."

  "I don't."

  "Allow me to get you a glass of wine.” He gestured to a waiter.

  "I would be grateful, thank you."

  He fixed her with a
blue-eyed stare. “You are looking well."

  "Thank you. And so do you.” She wished her heart would slow a little from its relentless pounding. He wore his golden hair long, tied with a black, velvet ribbon, while other men wore theirs short and carefully windswept. It was like him to defy the popular mode of dress. His black coat of superfine needed no padding at the shoulder, fitting tightly around his slim waist. His waistcoat was also black, as were his satin breeches. His cravat pin was his only adornment. He stood out in a crowd of glittering jaybirds, a blond devil, no doubt secure in the knowledge that women would fall under his spell. Realizing she was also on dangerous ground, Selena steeled herself to remain indifferent to his charms, but her heart didn't seem to be listening.

  "I don't like that pasty color on you, though,” he said. “It's quite the wrong green for you."

  She drew a sharp breath as she smoothed the skirt of her white muslin gown, woven and trimmed with pale green. “Oh?"

  "I'm sorry, but you know I'm inclined to blunt speaking,” he confessed, not looking the slightest bit sorry. “You should wear a green that matches your eyes.” He touched the emerald pin glowing among the folds of his white cravat. “This green would be perfect."

  "I am as yet unmarried, Lord Devereux,” she managed to splutter.

  "Oh right. Insipid colors for the virginal,” he said. A wicked gleam came into his eyes. “I have an excellent plan that will take care of both these problems."

  She gasped and looked around. “I refuse to listen to it, Lord Devereux. You are not to be encouraged. You shall ruin my reputation. It doesn't matter about yours. It is already lost."

  "Come out onto the terrace where no one will hear us."

  "I will most certainly do nothing of the kind!"

  He put his hand on her arm. “Curse it, Selena. I will behave myself. I give you my word. I need to talk to you."

  Selena looked around. It wouldn't do to be seen shrugging him off. “I shall give you five minutes, but I can't imagine there's anything you want to say to me. We've said it all before."

  They took a turn about the terrace, passing other couples enjoying the mild evening air. Braziers burned in their sconces along the wall. Strains of the Sussex Waltz with flute and violin floated through the open doorway. Lord Devereux's features, lit by moonlight, were classically handsome, a noble forehead, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a mouth and dimpled chin that made a woman weak in the knees. He settled against the balustrade beside her with a casual grace that never seemed to desert him. His heavy-lidded eyes gazed down into hers. It should have been breathtakingly romantic and for a brief moment, it was.

  "Selena, I must marry for money,” he said bluntly.

  She turned away, feeling he'd grasped her heart and squeezed it.

  He reached out and gripped her arm, his fingers burning into the flesh between her glove and capped sleeve. “Don't go yet, Selena. I know I'm too direct. I can't be dishonest with you. Don't know why."

  "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” she said dryly.

  He gave a brief laugh. Taking her by the shoulders, he searched her face. “I have no desire to marry. Don't doubt I should make a very poor husband. In my defense, I'll never consciously be cruel to you, and can offer you a title that goes back to the Norman Conquest. And by way of consolation, I like you."

  "And desire my fortune."

  He shrugged. “Halcrow Hall is falling into disrepair and its lands lie fallow. My great, great grandfather lost a considerable amount of money when his ships were sunk during England's war against Spain. The family fortunes have been dashed on the rocks ever since. I can't bear to see it happen, Selena."

  She drew breath at the fire and passion glowing in his blue eyes. It wasn't for her, but she still found herself helplessly caught up in it. All her resolve and her commonsense failing her like a fortress falling in battle. “You now intend to devote your life to restoring the mansion and its lands?"

  "Yes. I must pay off my father's creditors,” he said simply. “I've sold out of the army, and am now living on borrowed time."

  "Why now?"

  He shook his head and grinned. “I turned twenty-nine and wanted to live beyond thirty."

  "I must say I'm surprised they let you while the war is still raging,” she said.

  His blue eyes searched hers, for a sign, no doubt, that she wavered.

  "Why me? There are other heiresses. Pretty ones."

  "I'll be damned if I'll get leg-shackled to a shallow bore or a long-nosed, humorless wench.” He opened his eyes wide. “Or a blue stocking!"

  She laughed. “Not all of them, surely."

  He shook his head. “I've looked them all over, believe me. You're the only one I could consider spending any time with."

  "Well at least you don't pay me Spanish coin."

  He grinned. “And many men do?"

  "I have had my fill of suitors. My sister Anne is determined to have me married off before the year is out."

  "Then marry me, Selena. Say you will."

  She could not be expected to keep refusing him, she thought crossly. She was only flesh and blood after all. What woman on earth could resist the pleas of a man such as Devereux? The last of the fortifications around her heart gave way.

  "We might arrange a marriage of convenience, of sorts, I suppose,” she said cautiously. It would certainly get the pesky matchmakers and fortune hunters off her back and provide her with a home of her own. She refused to consider what her real reason might be, to see his face at breakfast every morning. A thought struck her. Would she be leaving her tidy, organized life for one of hellish proportions?

  "Don't think I'll live with you without the pleasures of the marriage bed,” he warned, breaking into her thoughts.

  "Oh! Do hush, my lord.” Her face grew hot and she glanced around. Another couple stood at the end of the terrace engrossed in their own conversation.

  "I wanted to make that plain."

  She suppressed a shiver of anticipation as his strong, agile body leaned towards her. She found herself wondering what he looked like naked, the feel of his skin, the muscles and bones beneath. The tautness of a male body against the softness of hers.

  She swallowed. “Then ask me properly.” Had she gone mad? This was a recipe for a broken heart if ever there was one.

  As Lord Devereux sank down on one knee before her, an exclamation of delight came from the woman at the other end of the terrace.

  If only you knew, Selena thought.

  "Miss Wakefield, will you do the honor of becoming my wife?” he said in a throbbing accent, making her want to giggle. “I shall cherish you for all the rest of your life. Should dissipation not carry me off before you,” he added wickedly.

  "I will. Now please get up,” she said, “before we become a spectacle, and have the gossips chattering for months."

  He rose and took her by the waist pulling her to him, his musky scent enveloping her. “They will anyway. Let's seal it with a kiss.” He brought his mouth down on hers before she could protest, probing with his tongue and rendering her shocked and breathless.

  "Oh! That's so romantic,” the lady said to her companion.

  Devereux drew away. When she could find her voice, Selena said weakly. “You promised to behave."

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  Chapter Two

  "Are you sure you are doing the right thing, Sel?” Anne asked anxiously. “Some of Devereux's exploits that Hugh's told me about, I could not repeat to you. Hugh says he's shockingly loose in the haft."

  Her sister had repeatedly asked her this question for the past three Sundays, after the bans were read in church. That Devereux was known to have vices and scant respect for proprieties was no surprise to her. “Don't tell me he has killed someone in a duel?"

  "Pinked a lady's husband when a young man, I believe. It was hushed up at the time, because of his age. But it's not just married women, some.... “her voice grew faint, “Incognitas, I be
lieve they're called."

  "He is an unwed man, Anne. At least they aren't Haymarket ware."

  "Selena! Where do you hear these things?"

  "I read, my dear sister."

  "I've told Hugh not to supply you with books a lady should never read!"

  "Please don't blame your husband for my impropriety,” Selena said.

  "The Hussars are known to be fearfully wild.” Anne turned a worried face towards her. “Some men can't be tamed, Sel, perhaps its bad family blood."

  She gave Anne the same answer she'd given her every Sunday. “I just know he's the only man I'll ever love."

  "But, darling. You can learn to love someone,” Anne said. “And you can just as easily fall out of love with someone."

  "Then it's a gamble either way.” Selena took off her straw bonnet enjoying the last of the summer warmth on her face.

  Anne slipped an arm around her waist as they strolled down the leafy lane towards the house. The children and the three dogs romped ahead. “We shall all miss you terribly."

  "Oh, and I you. Every one of you. Even Busker."

  Anne gurgled with laughter. “Oh no. Not Busker!"

  Busker was the children's large, white rabbit that was sometimes brought into the house to run riot among the cats and dogs.

  "I believe we are firm friends. Particularly when I hand feed him carrots."

  "You are going to make a beautiful bride, Sel."

  "Liar,” Selena said softly. “I look horrid in white."

  "Put your hat back on, darling,” Anne said tactfully.

  "Think, Anne. I shall never have to wear white again."

  Anne laughed. “Oh, I hope he makes you happy, Sel. You deserve it, you really do. Taking care of Mamma, then Papa, and now us."

  "I like to care for the people I love."

  Anne shook her head. “And you love Devereux."

  "Yes. God help me, I do."

  "He'd better measure up, or Hugh and I will come pounding on his door."

  "Promise me you won't, Anne. It's time I took care of myself."

  "It should be a wonderful adventure."

  "I'm sure it will be,” Selena said with a false note of confidence.