Welcome to An Unassuming Gentleman, my free short story for Valentine’s Day 2022. For this story, I’ve gone back to the first weeks of 1809 when Sir John Moore died on the field of Corunna and his army returned to England suffering from sickness, exhaustion and starvation after an appalling retreat over the mountains in winter.
As it’s Valentine’s Day, this story is not about that retreat, it’s about one of the officers who took part in it. Gervase Clevedon has been part of the Peninsular War Saga from the first, one of Paul van Daan’s inner circle, moving in and out of the action regularly. Yet very little has been said about his personal life. We know he is the younger son of an Earl, with a difficult relationship with his elder brother but the books have been silent on the subject of his marital status.
To set this story in context of the books, it would slot in part way through An Unconventional Officer. Paul van Daan has returned from his memorable time in Yorkshire and sailed with Wellesley to fight at the battles of Rolica and Vimeiro. After the unpopular convention of Cintra, the three commanders were summoned back to London to face an inquiry and the army marched into Spain under Sir John Moore. The exception was a few companies left behind in Lisbon under Major Paul van Daan, many of whom were suffering, like Paul’s wife, from camp fever. After Moore’s disastrous campaign, which ended with his death at Corunna, the army returned to England for a few months to recover before going back to Portugal under Wellesley. Captain Gervase Clevedon was with them.
I wanted to make a brief mention of my heroine’s name. I’m very fond of the name Heather, and I’ve been dying to use it, in honour of my editor but I wasn’t sure if it was used as a girls’ name during this era. A check of the incredibly useful Ancestry.com told me there was no problem with it.
As I know my readers love to work out links to characters in other books, I’ve managed to work in links to both my standalone early novels in this story. Readers of A Respectable Woman may like to know that Gervase Clevedon is the uncle of Kit Clevedon who is the hero of that book. Meanwhile Heather MacLeod’s brother is Lord Crawleigh, a Scottish title going back to the sixteenth century where the second Baron Crawleigh defended his lands against the invasion of the Earl of Hertford in A Marcher Lord.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all my readers. This one is unashamedly romantic. I hope you enjoy it, and it’s free, so please share as much as you like.
An Unassuming Gentleman.
It rained on the evening of Lady Sefton’s ball and a canopy had been set up across the street, to shelter the revellers during the short walk from the carriage steps to the house. Mrs Heather MacLeod, who had not particularly wanted to attend the ball, found herself wondering how much it had cost to effectively close off part of the square, so that her Ladyship’s guests might keep their feet dry.
Heather had been on a routine visit to London when she found herself ambushed by her sister-in-law. Lady Crawleigh had invited her down from her home in Scotland for a few weeks, with the promise of the theatre, the opera, some concerts and a new exhibition at the Royal Academy. Taking part in the balls and receptions of the London Season was not part of the plan and Heather was infuriated when Lady Crawleigh presented her with a pile of invitations on which her name was included.
“You may take those away, Fiona, for I shall not be attending any of them. I didn’t come here to go to parties, I cannot think what possessed you.”
“I have already replied on your behalf, Heather, so it will seem very rag-mannered if you don’t turn up,” Fiona said cheerfully. “You could of course write to the hostesses excusing yourself. I’ll leave them on the mantlepiece in case you wish to do so.”
“I? It was not I who accepted in the first place.”
“They don’t know that.”
“Fiona, how dare you? You know how much I dislike this kind of thing. I shall be bored witless. Besides, I don’t have anything suitable to wear since I never go to balls or receptions since Alex died and you promised me culture.”
“You shall have all the culture you desire, my love, providing you come out of your self-imposed seclusion and join the rest of the world for a few months. It won’t hurt you at all. I’ve made an appointment with my dressmaker. You are quite right, your gowns are looking dated. And…”
“I don’t want this.”
“You need this,” Fiona said with sudden quiet ferocity. “You’ve been hiding away in Comrie Castle for three years now and it is enough. Charles and I both agree on this. It isn’t good for you.”
“Charles is a traitor and I disown him as my brother.”
“Charles loves you. Alex was his friend he knows how much you miss him. But you’re only twenty-eight, Heather, you’re too young to wear widows’ weeds for the rest of your life.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Fiona, I stopped wearing mourning two years ago.”
“I was speaking metaphorically. And how would I know what you’ve been wearing? I never see you.”
“Nonsense, I’ve stayed with you every summer.”
“And refuse to see anybody else. It’s not good for you, Heather.”
“I don’t want anybody else.”
“Well this year you will have to put up with it. I mean it, Heather. Not one single concert or play will I attend with you unless you agree to accompany me to these parties. Your word on it.”
Heather glared at her. “This is blackmail and you will regret it. You may force me to attend, but you cannot make me enjoy it.”
“You sound like a five-year-old, dearest sister-in-law. Well, we shall see.”
Heather’s new gowns had not arrived by the date of Lady Sefton’s ball. Fiona had offered to lend her something, but Heather refused. Partly it was from sheer perversity, and partly it was because Fiona was six inches taller than her, with a fuller figure, and Heather suspected that even when altered, the gown would look cobbled together. She selected the best of her ballgowns, a charming green silk which she had not worn since her husband had died of a summer fever three years earlier. Heather supposed that the eagle-eyed ladies of fashion would be able to detect that the gown was out of date but she decided she did not care. She allowed Fiona’s maid to arrange her hair in the latest style, purchased new slippers and gloves and accepted a very pretty painted fan as a gift from her brother with a grim smile. The fan would be useful since Lady Sefton’s rooms were insufferably hot.
Heather was not new to London society and recognised enough people to make her feel at ease despite her long absence. Lord Crawleigh and his wife kept a house in town which they used during the Parliamentary season and were very much at home in government and diplomatic circles. Several women who had made their debut at the same time as Heather, and were now married, stopped to speak to her. She made polite conversation, accepted their congratulations at her re-emergence into society and tried not to grit her teeth too obviously.
Heather met with nothing but kindness and within an hour, she realised she was beginning to thaw. She was not ready to admit it to her interfering relatives, but she was quite enjoying renewing old acquaintances and catching up on the gossip. The music was infectious, and Heather stood beside her brother watching a cotillion and realised her feet were tapping. She remembered a little sadly how much she had enjoyed dancing with Alex during the first heady days of their courtship. She watched this year’s debutantes, their faces bright and eager and full of hope for the future and wondered if any of them was experiencing the breathless happiness of falling in love that she remembered so well.
Heather’s drifting thoughts were interrupted by a loud laugh. She glanced around and saw that it came from a group of men who, like her, were watching the dancing. At their centre was a tall, well-built individual who was probably in his thirties. He was expensively dressed, with his hair carefully styled and he had an over-loud voice which made everything he said easily audible to those around him.
“What do you say then, Alverstone? Who is to be this Season’s Incomparable? Miss Hibbert? Lady Caroline Forster?”
“Not at all,” the big man said. “The Hibbert is too tall and the Forster has crooked teeth. The Middleton girl is pretty, but her father’s got money troubles, or so I’ve heard. No, the girl for me is the little Flood heiress. Going to speak to her father as a matter of fact. It’s time I got my house in order now that I’ve come into the title. Nice little thing, good manners, very good Ton and a lovely figure. No reason to kick her out of bed on a cold night.”
There was more laughter. “You’d better watch it, old man, she’s over there dancing with Evesham, and he looks very pleased about it.”
“I don’t need to dance with her, Sheldon. I’ve got the title and the fortune. All I need is for her father to agree, and he will, believe me.”
Heather could feel her lip curling in distaste. She began to turn away but realised that the unpleasant Lord Alverstone had noticed her scrutiny and possibly her expression. He was staring at her, running his eyes over her in a way that made Heather’s skin crawl. Deliberately she turned towards her brother, presenting the other man with a view of her back.
“Who’s that with Crawleigh, Sheldon?” Alverstone asked loudly.
“I believe it’s his sister, Mrs MacLeod. I vaguely remember her from her debut, it was years ago. I think she’s widowed now.”
“Ha! Well her late husband did himself a favour if you ask me. Fancy being leg-shackled to a nondescript dwarf wearing last season’s gown. Couldn’t she be bothered to tidy herself up to enter polite society again?”
The words were loud enough to be heard by everybody in the vicinity. Heather was furious to feel herself blushing scarlet. She felt her brother stiffen in anger beside her and heard a murmur of comment, and one or two hastily suppressed sniggers.
“Heather, do you want me to…”
“No, Charles, please don’t. It will only encourage him.”
Heather took a deep breath and turned to look fully at Lord Alverstone. He was looking back at her mockingly, daring her to make a scene. Heather very much wanted to slap him, but she knew that for her brother’s sake she must not.
She turned away, furious to realise that she was shaking a little, with a combination of anger and embarrassment. She should not have agreed to attend such a fashionable ball in her outmoded gown, but she had been enjoying herself and nobody else had shown any sign of caring until Alverstone had drawn it to everybody’s attention.
“Are you all right, Heather?”
“Yes. No. I need to get out of here, Charles, but I don’t want him to think that I’m running away…”
Heather turned in surprise. The voice was very different to Alverstone’s. It was a quiet baritone which held unconscious authority. She had noticed him standing on the edge of Alverstone’s group of cronies, a man of medium height, in military dress with mid-brown hair and attractive hazel eyes. Heather had no idea who he was and wondered if he had come to apologise for his friend’s rudeness. She hoped not.
“Clevedon,” her brother said delightedly. “I didn’t realise you were here tonight. Or even that you were back in England. How are you, old boy? Were you at…I mean, I’m assuming you must have been…”
Captain Clevedon smiled slightly. “Corunna? Yes, I was there. I’ve not been all that well as you can imagine, this is my first proper attempt at being social.”
“Well, I should think so. Dreadful business. Very sorry to hear about Sir John Moore, he’ll be much missed.”
“He will.” Captain Clevedon transferred his attention to Heather. He bowed. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, ma’am.”
“No, of course,” Charles said quickly. “This is my sister, Clevedon, Mrs MacLeod. She married Alex MacLeod, you’ll remember him. Died three years ago, some ghastly fever epidemic. Heather, this is Captain the Honourable Gervase Clevedon, a friend from my army days. He started off in the 71st with me then transferred to the 110th.”
Heather recognised the name and was furiously aware that Captain Clevedon had indeed approached her to apologise, not for his friend but for his brother. She glared at Charles, since she could hardly glare at the hapless Clevedon, and wished he would get this over with so that she could leave with dignity and have a good cry in the carriage home.
“It is very good to meet you, Mrs MacLeod. I was wondering if you would consider dancing with me? I’ve been away from London for so long. I am hopelessly out of practice, but if you’d take pity on me I would be very grateful.”
It was worse than she had expected. Heather shot her brother an indignant look, and Charles looked back with eyes which entreated her not to make a scene. He was right, she knew. There was no way to withdraw without making it look as though she was storming out. She gave a rigid smile and placed her gloved hand in Clevedon’s.
The dancers were forming up for a country dance. Heather took her place opposite Clevedon. He shot her a reassuring smile and she forced herself to respond, wishing this were over. The orchestra struck up the opening bars and Clevedon held out his hand.
“If I forget the steps, just push me,” he whispered. “I’m very good at taking orders, I promise you. Good luck.”
The remark was so unexpected that Heather let out a giggle. Her partner grinned back at her as he stepped back and then forward into the opening figure of the dance. Heather took a deep breath and let him turn her neatly before passing her hand onto the opposite gentleman in the set.
It was immediately clear that if Gervase Clevedon had not danced in London for a while, he had definitely danced somewhere. Heather had not and she had to concentrate to remember the steps. The music was lively and within a minute, Heather stopped thinking about her gown or her wounded pride and was caught up in the sheer joy of dancing again after so long.
When the music ended, Captain Clevedon bowed and raised her hand to his lips. “Thank you, I enjoyed that so much. I was worried I’d run out of energy halfway through, but we carried the day.”
Heather smiled. “I almost refused to dance with you.”
“I know you did, ma’am, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. You must have been furious.”
“I thought you were going to apologise to me.”
Clevedon led her from the dance floor and neatly removed two champagne glasses from the tray of a passing waiter. “For Alverstone? I make a point of never apologising for him, or I’d never do anything else.”
Heather laughed aloud as she took the champagne. “Then why did you ask me to dance?”
“Mostly to annoy him. But also, I’d noticed you earlier because of that green silk gown. Several years ago, when I was last in London, I solicited a lady for a dance, who was wearing just that particular shade. She was a considerable heiress and a noted beauty and she turned me down very haughtily. I was hoping I might do better this time. I’m delighted to say that I did.”
Heather could not stop laughing. “I have no idea if any of that is true,” she said.
“I promise you that it is.”
“I collect you don’t get on with your brother.”
“I dislike him excessively. I hope that doesn’t shock you? Your own brother is a very good fellow. I’m deeply envious of you.”
“Doesn’t that make it difficult living with him?”
“Oh, I’m not staying at Alverstone House, ma’am, I wouldn’t dream of it when he is in residence. I have a house of my own near Ampthill in Bedfordshire. I inherited the estate from my mother’s family. And when I’m in London, I have a standing invitation to stay with the family of my commanding officer in Curzon Street. They’re very good hosts, especially just now, because none of them are there. Are you staying with Crawleigh?”
“Yes, for a few weeks. I live in Scotland, I inherited my husband’s estate and I seldom come to London. My sister-in-law has been bullying me, saying I should make more effort to be social.”
“Well I’m very glad you did,” Clevedon said. “May I take you into supper?”
“I…yes, if you wish it.”
“Will you dance with me again?”
Heather was laughing again. “Isn’t there some kind of rule which says we may only dance together twice?”
“Oh no, surely that rule only applies to debutantes.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well can we pretend that neither of us knows any better? They won’t be surprised. You’ve been hiding in a Scottish castle for three years and I’ve been in the army, they don’t expect any better from us.”
Heather felt as though her head was spinning slightly. “Are you always like this? How did you know it was a castle?”
“No, is it? I just made that up. I must have the second sight. Dance with me again, Mrs MacLeod. I’ve just survived the worst retreat…you honestly can’t imagine. Please?”
Heather sipped the champagne. “Was it really that bad? The retreat to Corunna?”
Unexpectedly the laughing eyes were serious. “Yes,” he said. “So bad, in fact, that I’m trying not to think about it too much at the moment. I’m supposed to be convalescing.”
“It is good for both the body and the soul. Especially dancing with you. You have the prettiest eyes.”
“Captain Clevedon, are you trying to flirt with me?” Heather said in what she hoped was a repressive voice.
Clevedon looked at her for a long moment. “Do you know, I think I am,” he said cordially. “Do you think that’s a sign of recovery? Come along, they’re about to start the quadrille and I think I can remember that one.”
The rain had stopped when Gervase Clevedon stepped out into the cool winter air. London was not particularly sweet smelling most of the time, but the rain had washed down the streets and given them a fresh damp scent. Gervase stood for a moment, his head swimming pleasantly, and decided he was sober enough to walk home. A queue of carriages stood waiting to collect their occupants. Gervase’s hosts had informed him that he was to make use of their town carriage without hesitation, but Gervase preferred to walk although he knew perfectly well that his brother would never dream of walking the ten minutes to his home in Berkeley Square. More than ten years in the army had given Gervase considerable hardiness and he would have been embarrassed to call for the carriage for such a short distance.
Gervase had stood up with Heather MacLeod for more than the regulation two dances. If anybody had cast disapproving glances their way, he had not noticed and did not care. When he had limped off the transport from Corunna to begin his convalescence, Gervase had been so weak from starvation, exhaustion and a minor wound to his shoulder that he could not have contemplated even a short walk, let alone an evening dancing. Physically he had recovered very quickly but the emotional effects of the long agonising retreat followed by a battle he was not fit to fight were taking longer to shake off.
The retreat to Corunna had been a disaster for the British army. Only two thirds of Gervase’s battalion had marched into Spain with Sir John Moore. The rest of them remained in Lisbon, struck down by the worst epidemic of camp fever Gervase had ever seen. At the time, Gervase had thought himself lucky to have avoided it. Colonel Johnstone rallied those men fit enough to fight and joined the main army, and Gervase felt sorry for Major Paul van Daan who was both his commanding officer and his friend. Paul’s friendship with Sir Arthur Wellesley had given him a significant part to play in the victories at Rolica and Vimeiro the previous year, but this time he was left in Lisbon in command of the sick troops while Johnstone marched to potential glory. To make it worse, Paul’s wife succumbed to the sickness and Gervase knew he had spent a miserable six weeks in Lisbon fretting over her before returning to barracks in Melton Mowbray with his much-depleted companies, to receive the news of Moore’s death.
Moore’s campaign had gone wrong from the start. He had taken over command of the army when the three previous commanders had been summoned back to London to face an inquiry over the convention of Cintra, which had caused public outrage because of the lenient terms granted to the defeated French. Gervase wondered if Sir Arthur Wellesley would have done any better than Moore, given the impossible circumstances. Moore could not be asked to account for the failure of his campaign. He had been killed during the desperate battle fought on the shore at Corunna where his sickly, starving and exhausted army managed to beat back the French long enough to board the transports waiting to take them home.
Gervase had lost both his horses during the long retreat, and too many of his men. They fell beside the road, dying of sickness and hunger and cold and he could do nothing for them. He also lost control of them, unable to prevent episodes of looting and drunkenness whenever they happened upon a village or a farm where food was available. Spanish farmers and their families were murdered and women were raped. Gervase did not know if any of his men were responsible for the worst of the depredations but even the fact that they might have been left him depressed and ashamed.
Flirting with Heather MacLeod on the dance floor and across the supper table had made him happier than he had been for months and Gervase was enormously grateful. He was also intrigued. She was an attractive woman who seemed entirely without vanity. In place of it, she had ideas, and interests and laughter. She laughed more than any woman he had ever met. She also talked a lot. Gervase thought of himself as a quiet man, but Heather MacLeod was amazingly easy to talk to. He discovered, with some surprise, that they shared a lively sense of the ridiculous and her conversation was peppered with observations about their fellow revellers that kept him in a ripple of laughter all evening. He realised, as he turned into Curzon Street, that he could not wait to see her again.
It was past two o’clock as Gervase mounted the steps to Tevington House. He did not knock, unwilling to wake up the neighbours, knowing that the butler or one of the footmen would be on the watch for his return. Sure enough, the door opened after only a few moments and Gervase stepped into the hallway, which was dimly lit by a branch of candles set on a polished table. He took off his hat.
“If you think I’m taking your damned hat as well as waiting up to let you in, you’re much mistaken, Captain Clevedon.”
Gervase turned in astonishment, his face lighting up at the sight of a tall fair man in uniform who was smiling at him.
“Paul! What on earth are you doing here, acting as butler at this hour?”
“Are you drunk, Gervase? This is my house. At least it’s my father’s house.”
Gervase set his hat down on the side table, carefully avoiding the candles, and remembered to salute. Major Paul van Daan regarded him critically. “Not much more than half-sprung, I suspect. I got here very late after the journey from hell, so I had supper and thought I’d wait up for you. They said you were at Lady Sefton’s.”
“I was. It’s the first time I’ve ventured out to anything more strenuous than a supper party at White’s, but unexpectedly I enjoyed myself. I’m surprised to see you, sir, I thought you fixed in Leicestershire.”
“I am. In fact, I’m completely invisible and I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from advertising my presence in town. Wellesley wrote to me asking me to come up for a few days. I’m dining with him tomorrow. It seems we’ll be going back to Portugal with him.”
“They’ve given him the command?”
“Yes, although I don’t know how official it is yet. Are you too tired for another drink? I’ve kept the fire going in the library.”
“As long as it isn’t champagne. I have drunk enough champagne this evening. Why are you travelling incognito?”
Paul picked up the candles and led the way into the library. He set them down and went to pour wine. “Because I don’t want to see anybody,” he said frankly. “Apart from Wellesley, and of course you. I’m enjoying the life of a country layabout for a month or two, with nothing more strenuous than the ride into barracks, and I promised Rowena I wouldn’t stay long.”
“How is she, sir?”
“She seems fully recovered, but it’s going to take me a while to get over the fright she gave me.”
“And how are the men?”
“Improving. We’ve lost some, Gervase, I can’t lie to you. I can’t decide if I feel guilty or relieved that I wasn’t there.”
“Feel relieved,” Gervase said sombrely, drinking the wine. “It was pure hell, appallingly organised with a complete breakdown of discipline. We lost control of our men, Paul, and I’ve never had to say that before. It’s a miracle we got as many of them out of there as we did. You missed nothing.”
“That’s never going to happen again.”
Gervase grinned at the ferocious certainty of the other man’s tone. “Yes, sir. Now let’s talk of other things, it depresses me. I saw Wellesley tonight. He was dancing with a number of pretty women, none of whom were his wife.”
“That is no surprise at all. He has reason to celebrate. Wholly exonerated by the inquiry, a vote of thanks from Parliament, and the promise of a new command.”
Gervase gave a faint smile. “And did he deserve all of those?”
Paul grinned. “Two out of three,” he said honestly. “He signed that bloody thing along with the other two. I doubt he agreed with it, but I’m also damned sure he didn’t realise the furore it was going to cause, or he’d never have done it. Needless to say, he didn’t ask my opinion. I’m glad he got away with it though because he deserves the command and the approbation. Now let’s see what he can do with nobody holding him back. Was your brother at Lady Sefton’s tonight?”
“To my sorrow. He’s the reason I was planning to post up to Bedfordshire at the end of the week. Just being in the same room as him makes me want to punch him, I cannot think how we came to be related. He tells me he is about to make an offer of marriage to some unfortunate girl. I wish I could put a spoke in the works because he’ll treat her appallingly, but there’s nothing I can do. He’s an Earl, her parents cannot wait to hand her over.”
“Who is it?”
“Lady Clarissa Flood. She’s nineteen.”
“I know. He can’t even be bothered to woo the girl. He’ll just sign the marriage contract and start giving her orders. Thank God I’ll be back in Portugal with you and won’t have to watch it.”
“Ambitious parents create a lot of misery. When are you going to Ampthill? It’s not that far, you should come up to Southwinds for a few days. I promise not to make you run drill or skirmish training.”
Gervase laughed. “You would break that promise in two days, sir, you can’t help yourself. I’m not sure actually. I was going to go, but I may decide to stay in town for a week or two. I ran into an old friend this evening. Do you know Crawleigh? We were in the 71st together, but he sold out when he inherited the title. His wife has invited me to dine on Tuesday, and I’m joining them at the theatre on Friday.”
Paul van Daan studied him for a long silent moment, sipping his wine. Gervase drank his, saying nothing. Eventually, Paul set his glass down and got up to bring the bottle to the low table before the fire. He refilled both glasses, sat back and studied Gervase thoughtfully.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
It was the first time in many years that Gervase had spent any time in London during the season and he was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. As the younger son of the Earl of Alverstone, his place in society was assured but his loathing for his elder brother meant that he tended to avoid town when the new Earl was in residence.
Gervase could tell that Alverstone was baffled by his extended stay. They spoke occasionally when meeting at social events and his brother was probing, trying to discover what was keeping Gervase in London. His curiosity amused Gervase since it was clear that Alverstone had absolutely no idea of his real motives. He questioned Gervase about possible financial problems, difficulties with his Bedfordshire estate, health problems after the brutal retreat to Corunna and even asked if Gervase was considering selling his commission and returning to civilian life. Gervase gave him little information and enjoyed watching his brother’s puzzlement.
Gervase could not believe Alverstone had not noticed the object of his real interest. Lord Crawleigh and his wife were definitely aware, and they encouraged him shamelessly. Gervase wondered if they had bullied Heather into coming to London in the hope of finding her another husband, but he did not think so. Lady Crawleigh was clearly devoted to her and he suspected that Heather’s self-imposed solitude since the death of her husband had been a source of concern for some time.
It puzzled Gervase, because it was quickly clear that Heather MacLeod was not a naturally solitary person. She was awkward at times, but he thought that was lack of practice rather than a native dislike of company. Over the following weeks he spent increasing amounts of time with her, and he found her completely charming.
Heather quickly admitted to him that Lady Crawleigh had tricked her into coming to London with the promise of cultural activities. It proved an excellent opportunity for Gervase to spend time with her in settings more conducive to conversation than a ballroom. He accompanied her to the theatre and the opera, escorted her to the Royal Academy and attended several concerts, both private and public. She laughed at his willingness to accede to any of her suggestions.
“Captain Clevedon, you are far too amenable. I am tempted to see how far I can push this. There are several public lectures coming up on the subject of anatomy and the structure of the brain. I’m sure they will be interesting. Would you be willing, should I require an escort?”
Gervase surveyed her with interest. “How fascinating, ma’am. You may not know it but I have always wanted to know more about human anatomy. Should we ask Lady Crawleigh if she wishes to attend with us?”
Heather gave him a long look. “I’m not sure if I should call your bluff. Would you really endure such a trial just to prove me wrong?”
“The difficulty you have, ma’am, is that if you call my bluff and I don’t fold, you’ll have to attend the lectures yourself. Is it really worth that just to watch me squirm?”
Heather gave a peal of laughter. “You are the most exasperating man, Captain. It’s impossible to put you out of temper.”
“It can definitely be done, ma’am. You should talk to my brother.”
“Goodness, why ever would I do that?”
“I’ve no idea. Silly notion, forget I mentioned it. Will you ride with me tomorrow? Major van Daan has offered me the pick of their stable. I’m sure I can find suitable horses.”
“I would love to, but I will provide my own horse. Fiona always brings several to town during the season, because she knows she looks good on horseback and likes to show off. I can borrow one of hers.”
“Excellent. I hope the weather holds.”
They rode together through the cold weeks of February and into early March, danced at every ball and took long walks through the London parks, trailed by Heather’s uninterested maid. She told him about her husband, about the sixteenth century castle she had inherited near the village of Comrie and about the lands and people who had become her responsibility through her marriage. Gervase talked of his parents, his career in the army and of the extensive estate in Bedfordshire that he intended one day to make his home.
“Most of the family estates are entailed, of course, and went to my brother. I didn’t mind, it’s the way things are done. It’s why I joined the army when I was younger. I wanted a career of my own, to make my way in the world. I didn’t want to depend on him. My mother always understood that. She inherited the estate from a childless uncle and made it over to me as soon as I came of age. She lives there now and keeps house for me. She doesn’t get on particularly well with Alverstone either.”
“It must be a great joy to him, to be so universally loved.”
Gervase spluttered with laughter. “I think he strives to deserve it,” he said, when he could speak again. “You were able to inherit Comrie Castle unentailed, I gather.”
“Yes. There’s no title to inherit, just the lands. If we’d had a son they’d have gone to him, with me to manage them until he was older, but we never had children. I wish we had.” Heather smiled unselfconsciously. “Alex had several male cousins who were most put out when he left everything to me, but he was perfectly entitled to do so.”
“I think you had a very happy marriage, ma’am.”
“I did. I was the most fortunate of women.”
The sadness in her voice pierced Gervase’s heart. It was unworthy he knew, to envy a dead man, but sometimes he could not help it. As the weeks passed, it was becoming more and more clear to him that his feelings for Heather MacLeod went well beyond friendship, but he was by no means sure that she felt the same way. Clearly, she enjoyed his company, and Gervase suspected that to the outside world their uncomplicated friendship looked very much like courtship, but he worried that to Heather it was nothing than a pleasant way to pass her time in London. He was beginning to understand why she had locked herself away in her grey stone tower at the edge of the Highlands for so long. Heather MacLeod had been passionately devoted to her husband and Gervase was not sure she would ever be ready for another man to take his place.
It grieved Gervase, because he wanted more, and he was becoming conscious that he had very little time. He received regular letters from his regiment, informing him of arrangements for travelling to Portugal and he was torn between the usual sense of anticipation at the beginning of a new campaign and a feeling of misery that if he sailed away from Heather without at least making a push to tell her of his feelings, he would lose any chance with her. It could be several years before he returned to England, and by then she would probably have met somebody else.
His commanding officer had returned to Leicestershire, offering several wholly unsolicited pieces of advice about Gervase’s courtship before he left. Gervase was glad to see him go. His friendship with Paul van Daan was of long-standing and he generally enjoyed his commander’s lively sense of humour, but his relationship with Heather was too new and too precious to be the subject of even the most well-meaning banter. Gervase fretted pointlessly at the problem. He knew that the only possible solution was to pluck up the courage to speak to her before he had to leave, but he was discovering that it was far easier to display courage in the face of a French cavalry charge than when faced with making an offer of marriage to a young woman who might well say no. The weeks flew past, and Gervase was beginning to dread the arrival of orders to return to duty immediately, which would rob him of any chance of speaking to Heather. He needed to gather his courage in both hands and take the risk, and he needed to do it soon.
They rode out on a bright Spring morning towards Barnet, where the horse fair sprawled out over several fields. Gervase was under no illusion that he would find a suitable opportunity to propose on this day, but he was in dire need of new horses. He had several excellent hunters in his stables in Bedfordshire but none of them were suitable for the long hours and difficult conditions of campaign life.
It was many years since he had been to Barnet Fair, and he discovered that Heather had never been. She was openly delighted with the eclectic mix of market stalls, sideshows, food and drink booths and huge pens where cattle and horses were displayed for sale. The buying and selling of livestock was the real purpose of the fair and farmers and landowners rubbed shoulders with private customers looking to buy a riding hack or a pair of carriage horses.
It was crowded and noisy. Gervase had attended such fairs in several countries and entertained Heather with stories of India as they stabled their borrowed horses in a temporary horse pen and left them under the watchful eye of one of the Van Daan’s grooms. They made their way through the throng to the horse pens, accompanied by Southworth, Gervase’s own groom. Southworth had accompanied Gervase on campaign for ten years and knew exactly what he was looking for in an officer’s mount.
Gervase had wondered if Heather would be bored by the laborious process of selecting and purchasing horses, but she seemed to enjoy herself. She was a good horsewoman and was knowledgeable enough to make intelligent comments about the various animals. They wandered through the pens, stopping every now and then to examine a promising mount and Gervase had to force himself to pay attention to the horses, since he actually needed to buy some, instead of watching Heather.
It was afternoon by the time he had made his selection and agreed the arrangements for delivering the horses. They spent the rest of the day at the fair, wandering through the market stalls, eating hot pasties in a crowded food tent and drinking cider at a rickety table overlooking the huge field where a racetrack had been laid out. In addition to its commercial purposes, Barnet Fair was famous for its sports, and both horse racing and boxing matches attracted visitors, not only from London, but also from the surrounding counties.
Heather disclaimed any interest in watching the races and the entirely masculine crowd of sportsmen surrounding the boxing ring was clearly unsuitable for a lady. The groom who had looked after their horses told them that the Prince of Wales had arrived with a party of friends for the boxing and was expected to remain for the races. It seemed like an excellent time to leave before the light began to fade and the fair grew even more rowdy.
Heather was unusually quiet on the ride back into town, but it was a comfortable silence. Gervase rode beside her, pleasantly tired after a very productive day, and decided that he was going to speak to her as soon as possible. If he had completely misread her feelings, it was better to know it. Today had clarified his own feelings and he no longer had any doubts.
Gervase was at the breakfast table two days later when the note was delivered. He did not recognise the hand, and he opened it and began to read, his teacup halfway to his mouth. After the first few lines he put the cup down and pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. It was from Heather MacLeod, a pleasant note informing him that she had made the decision to return home to Scotland almost immediately.
Gervase read the letter again. There was no mistaking the warm, friendly tone of her farewell. She thanked him for his friendship and for the many occasions when he had escorted her and expressed her hope that they would meet again at some future date. Gervase, depressed, tried to imagine how that might come about and could not. When they had parted after their day at the fair, she had given no hint of any intention to go home so soon. He found himself running over their conversations in his head, wondering if he had said or done something to upset her. He did not think he had. Foolish to think this was about him. It was looking increasingly likely that Heather MacLeod had not considered him at all when making her decision.
The thought hurt, but at the same time it was a call to action. Gervase realised that he could not allow her to leave without at least trying to tell her how he felt about her. It would be awkward for her and painfully embarrassing for him if she rejected his proposal, but it would be far worse if he just let her walk out of his life. He was in love with her and had begun to believe that she might feel the same way about him. If he was wrong, then he needed to know it and he could not put this off any longer or he might miss his opportunity.
Heather had been prepared for her family to object to her sudden decision to go home, but she had not been prepared for the ferocity of the storm.
She made the announcement at breakfast, dropping it casually into a conversation about Lord Crawleigh’s lame horse and the likelihood of rain that day. Neither topic served as an effective screen. Both Crawleigh and Fiona stopped their conversation and turned to stare at Heather.
“Going home? When?”
“On Friday, I think,” Heather said lightly. “I’ll make the arrangements today. I’ll travel post.”
“Heather, you cannot. We are promised to Lord and Lady Jersey on Saturday and there is the Mortimer’s ball on Monday. You have so many engagements.”
“I have made a list,” Heather said, keeping her voice steady. “I will write to all of them with my apologies, Fiona, I am not so rag-mannered as to leave that to you.”
“It seems fairly rag-mannered to walk out on your family halfway through a visit without so much as a conversation,” Crawleigh said bluntly. Heather shot him a look.
“May I remind you, dear brother, that this is not the visit I had planned? You took control of my time without so much as a by-your-leave, as though I were a silly girl of eighteen, and I think I’ve been very patient about it. I’ve had enough now and I want to go home and get on with my life.”
“What life? Mooning about the castle and discussing cattle feed and crop rotation with the farmhands? Don’t pretend you’ve not enjoyed yourself, Heather, I’m neither blind nor stupid. Three days ago you were talking about ordering new gowns for the warmer weather. What’s got into you?”
“I have enjoyed myself and I am very grateful,” Heather said between gritted teeth. “But it is enough. I don’t belong in London. I miss home. I want to go home.”
She was horrified at the little break in her voice. Fiona heard it and motioned for the servants to leave the room, then gave Crawleigh a look.
“Don’t bully her, Charles. Heather, what has happened to upset you? Do not spin me some tale, if you please, I’ve known you for too long. You had no intention of leaving early, this is a sudden decision.”
Heather got up and walked over to the long windows which overlooked the square. “That does not mean it is the wrong decision.”
“Is this about Clevedon?” her brother demanded. “Does he know you’re about to head for the Scottish hills, dear sister? Or were you just going to leave him without a word?”
Heather felt a rush of sheer fury. She spun around. “And now we have reached the truth of it, have we not, Charles? You do not give a rush about me or my feelings or how difficult this is for me. You just want me respectably married again so that the likes of Lord Alverstone do not whisper behind their hands that your sister is a little odd.”
Crawleigh got to his feet, almost upsetting the chair in his anger. “How dare you say that to me? I’ve offered you nothing but sympathy since Alex died, he was my friend. But you…”
“And now you’ve found another one of your friends to marry me off to…”
“That’s enough!” Fiona broke in angrily. “Sit down immediately, both of you. I do not care how upset you are, you will not yell at each other across the breakfast table and make a gift of our family business to the servants. Sit down.”
Heather stood irresolute. She wanted to run to her room, probably slamming several doors on the way, but the expression on Fiona’s face made her pause. Her sister-in-law was generally very placid, but she looked furious now. After a moment, Crawleigh seated himself again. Heather stalked back to her chair and did the same.
“Have you written to Captain Clevedon, Heather?” Fiona asked.
“Yes. I sent a note to him this morning.”
“I hope it was civil,” Crawleigh growled.
“It was more than civil,” Heather snapped. “I expressed my warmest friendship and appreciation for all his kindness and hoped we should meet again one day.”
“You’ll be glad you said that, sister, if you get the news he’s been blown apart by French cannon before the end of the year,” Crawleigh said unforgivably.
Heather burst into tears. She got to her feet and ran to the door of the breakfast parlour just as the butler opened it.
“Captain Clevedon, my Lord,” Campbell said, sounding surprised. “I believe he is engaged to go for a walk with Mrs MacLeod.”
Heather had completely forgotten the arrangement. She froze for a long moment, staring into Clevedon’s astonished eyes. Clevedon looked back steadily, and Heather wondered how much of the altercation he had heard. Nobody moved or spoke.
Captain Clevedon was the first to recover. He stepped to one side, his eyes not leaving hers. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “Go on. But if you can bear to come back down, I would like to speak to you.”
Heather ran past him. She was crying too much to answer, but she was grateful for his quick understanding. It made her feel rather worse. She paused at the bottom of the wide, sweeping staircase and looked back. The Captain had just entered the parlour. Before the door closed, she heard his voice, using a tone she had never heard from him before.
“I heard every word of that, Crawleigh, and you can thank God there’s a lady present or I’d punch you so hard you’d still be unconscious at dinner. Lady Crawleigh, your servant, ma’am. Sorry to arrive so early.”
After ten minutes of painfully stilted conversation, Lady Crawleigh excused herself to see how her sister-in-law did. When she had gone, Gervase looked at Crawleigh. The Earl groaned.
“That expression is the reason I sold out, Clevedon. I couldn’t bear you looking at me for another week like a weevil in a tack biscuit.”
“You sold out when you inherited the title, Crawleigh. It had nothing to do with me. And just at the moment, I’d say the weevil is ahead of you for brains.”
“I’m sorry. I said I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”
“It isn’t me you should be apologising to, you bloody idiot. Of all the things to say to the poor girl, given what she’s been through.”
“Clevedon, I love my sister dearly, but you have no idea how infuriating she can be. I’m assuming you had her note.”
“Yes, it’s why I came so early. I read it twice and decided she’d forgotten that she’d promised to go for a walk with me today. I wanted to get over here before she remembered and sent me another note to cry off.”
“That’s the reason you’re a captain and I’m a member of the idle classes. You always were a planner. I’m surprised you’re not angry with her yourself. She’s been leading you a fine dance for more than two months. It was unforgiveable to turn you off with a note because she has a whim to go home all of a sudden. I’ve no idea what’s got into her. I would have sworn…”
He broke off realising what he had been about to say. Gervase grinned. “I would have sworn as well. She’s not been leading me a dance. Your sister doesn’t have it in her to behave that way. Whatever has happened to upset her, she’s not being deliberately difficult.”
“Really? I do hope you manage to marry her, Clevedon, you’re far nicer to her than I am.”
“After today’s effort, I will not argue with you.”
“Look, I’ll ring for more tea for you and then I’ll go up and tell her…”
“If you go anywhere near her, Crawleigh, I will beat you senseless, I swear it. I’ll have the tea and you can pass me the Times. I’m going to wait.”
Thirty minutes passed. Gervase read the newspaper, which contained nothing of interest at all. Crawleigh worked his way through a pile of letters. Eventually he looked up.
“How long are you going to wait?”
“Until she comes downstairs.”
“What if she stays upstairs?”
“Then I’m staying for dinner.”
Crawleigh rolled his eyes. “Is it too early for brandy, do you think?”
“Yes.” Gervase took out his watch. “Give it another hour.”
“Do I have to sit here with you?”
“You can go to the devil for all I care.”
There was a sound in the hallway and then the door opened and Heather appeared. She was dressed in a stylish full-length blue pelisse, complete with military-style epaulettes and frogging. Only the hem and lace collar of her white gown were visible, and she wore neat black half boots and a cream-coloured bonnet trimmed with feathers. Gervase had not seen the pelisse before and, as he rose and bowed, he thought how well the colour suited her fair hair and skin. He moved forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips.
“Mrs MacLeod, I’m so glad you came down. As you are dressed for walking, I’m hoping you haven’t come to tell me you’re crying off. I’m sorry I arrived so early. I wanted to speak to Crawleigh, but it was thoughtless of me.”
“Not at all, Captain. You weren’t responsible for my dramatic exit, my brother has the tact of a bear.”
Crawleigh got up. “Exit, pursued by a bear,” he said morosely. “Good day, Clevedon. Feel free to drown her in the Serpentine if the mood takes you.”
When he had gone, Gervase looked at his love. She had been crying, but had done a good job of disguising it with a little powder and seemed perfectly calm. He took her arm and they made their way through the grey early afternoon towards the gates of Hyde Park, with Heather’s maid following at a respectable distance. Gervase realised he was dry mouthed with nerves. His strategy to speak to her alone had succeeded very well, but he was not sure that he could carry the next line of her defences.
“Are you really going back to Scotland?” Gervase asked, once they were in the park and walking along a tree lined avenue. He realised that the usual easy flow of their conversation had dried up and he was struggling to know how to raise the subject.
“Yes, I think so. I’ve done as I promised and spent a season in London. I’ve ridden in the Row and attended the balls and the receptions and the routs. I’ve been entertained by the Prince of Wales and eaten the worst supper I’ve ever been offered in my life, and I’ve seen the very latest exhibition at the Royal Academy. I’ve even been to Horse Guards and seen some very pretty soldiers on parade. I’m exhausted with all the frivolity.”
“You haven’t danced at Almack’s yet,” Gervase pointed out.
Heather laughed aloud. “The underworld will freeze over before they allow me through those hallowed doors, Captain, and you know it. Besides, I’ve no wish to go.”
“The suppers are even worse than Prinny’s, and they make the gentlemen wear knee breeches.”
“Then it’s no place for a – what did the Earl call me? A nondescript dwarf in last Season’s gowns, wasn’t it?”
“My brother’s manners are as appalling as his arrogance. I am ashamed to be related to him.”
“I would be too. I like Lady Clarissa Flood, though, it will be a pity if her parents shuffle her into it. He’ll lead her a dog’s life.”
“I cannot allow myself to think about it, ma’am, since I can do nothing to prevent it.”
Heather gave him one of her grave looks, as though she was assessing his sincerity, then she gave a rather sad smile.
“I feel the same way. But it’s another good reason to be home in Scotland, so that I don’t have to watch it. I’ll miss our talks though. When do you leave for Portugal?”
“I had a letter this morning. I’ll need to leave for Southampton in about three weeks. Major van Daan has given me leave to go straight there with no need to travel up to Melton first.”
“That’s good, as you’ll have time to say goodbye to your friends in London.”
“I thought I might go back to Ampthill, to spend a week or two there and to see my mother. I think I’ve been social enough for a while.”
“Won’t you find that hard back with your regiment?”
“The regiment…oh, you mean my fellow officers? That’s different, they’re my friends.”
Heather’s smile broadened. “The way you say that makes me wish I’d had the opportunity to meet them.”
“Oh, I wish you had too. Meeting me in London like this, during the Season, will have given you very little idea of me really. This is not…these are not really my friends.”
Another awkward silence fell. Behind them, Gervase could hear the maid sniffing noisily as though she intended it to be heard. He turned to look at her and his companion giggled.
“She doesn’t like walking,” she said softly. “I wish they’d stop this nonsense about having me chaperoned every time I walk outside the house, it’s ridiculous. I’ve been married and widowed and I’ve no reputation to worry about.”
“That’s not true and you know it, ma’am. London is very censorious.”
“It can be as censorious as it likes, I’m unlikely to hear it from my crumbling pile of stone in Scotland.”
Gervase laughed. “Is that another one of my brother’s remarks?”
“No, that one was Lady Commyngton. Though to be fair, I think she only said it when it became clear to her I’d no intention of encouraging the attentions of her youngest son. He’d have been very happy to take on my crumbling pile of stone and the income my husband left me.”
“Is it really crumbling?”
“Well it’s old, and the plumbing could do with updating,” Heather admitted cheerfully. “Alexander never really cared for such things, but since he left me in better case than I expected, I had thought of doing a little work on it. But it’s a castle, Captain, not a mansion. I doubt Mr Commyngton would have wanted to live there much, and I’d never marry a man who wanted to sell my home to fund a London lifestyle.”
“I suspect your Scottish castle suits you far better than these well-tended gardens, Mrs MacLeod.”
“I suspect you’re right. Though this is pretty with the spring flowers coming up, even on such a dark day. I wonder if we should turn back before my maid develops inflammation of the lung?”
Gervase felt a sudden lurch of misery, realising that this might be the last time he saw her. He sought frantically for the right words, wishing for a more fluent tongue.
“Do you ever get leave once they get you out of England, Captain?”
The question surprised him. “It’s very unpredictable, ma’am. When the entire army has fallen apart and the campaign has collapsed into disaster, leave is very likely, as you can see from Corunna. But we try not to hope for that too often. It will depend on how successful Wellesley is. He’s the man of the hour just now, the government would far rather focus on his triumphs than on poor Moore’s failure.”
“Is he truly that good?”
“A general is only as good as his last campaign, ma’am. But my commanding officer says he’s the best general in the army.”
“Now that is high praise indeed. Do you trust Major van Daan’s opinion?”
“I trust him with my life, ma’am, so I suppose I’d have to say yes.”
“Captain Burrows described Major van Daan as a monied upstart who has bought his way to promotion over longer serving men.”
Gervase considered it for a moment. “I think he’d agree with that.”
She gave a peal of laughter. “Oh no, you’re such a disappointment, Captain. I was sure that would make you angry.”
“Captain Burrows has never set foot on a battlefield, ma’am, and I suspect if they ever try to send him abroad, his Mama will quickly pay for a transfer to a safer regiment. Preferably not the 110th because Major van Daan would end up punching him.”
She was smiling up at him as they approached the park gates. “I wish I had met your Major when he was in town.”
“If there is ever the opportunity, Mrs MacLeod, I will gladly introduce you.”
“I hope we meet again, Captain. I realise you may be away from England for a long time, but should you find yourself with a period of leave…”
Heather stopped and Gervase glanced at her and realised, to his complete astonishment, that she was blushing. He had never before seen her do so and had thought her incapable of it.
“If I ever find myself in Scotland, ma’am, I will definitely call.”
“Scotland is a long way away, Captain. I might possibly find myself in London again.”
Gervase stopped in his tracks, so abruptly that the maid, who was not looking where she was going, almost walked into him. Heather was a few steps ahead of him before she realised. She turned with a surprised expression.
“Are you all right, Captain?”
Gervase looked at the maid. He realised guiltily that she actually did not look well. Her nose was red and her eyes were sore.
“What’s your name?”
“Brown, you look terrible. I’ve been listening to you sneeze for the past twenty minutes. Go home immediately. Tell Lady Crawleigh that you had no choice, I ordered you home because I was worried about contagion. Mrs MacLeod and I will take another turn about the park, and then I will return her home, I swear it.”
The woman stared at him in blank surprise, then unexpectedly she seemed to understand and gave a broad smile and dropped a curtsey.
“Yes, Captain. Thank you, sir.”
Gervase dug in his pocket and produced a coin. She took it, looked at it then looked up with wide, surprised eyes.
“Thank you, sir.”
When she had gone, Gervase took a deep breath and risked a look at his companion. She was wearing exactly the expression he was expecting.
“That was extremely high-handed of you, Captain Clevedon. How did you know I wasn’t tired and ready to go home?”
“A lucky guess, ma’am. Besides, I suspect you’re used to walking a lot further than this, and over far rougher ground.”
She gave a smile. “Yes, I am. This is very tame. Very well, let’s walk over to the lake. I have taken a liking to the lake.”
“I like it myself. I’ve a small ornamental lake on my estate in Bedfordshire. It is home to the most aggressively hostile flock of geese I have ever encountered in my life. They barely tolerate my presence.”
Heather gave a gurgle of laughter. “Really? Birds can be like that. When I married Alexander, one of his cousins presented us with a pair of peacocks. I think she thought they would lend an air of gentility to the place. All they did, of course, was leave droppings all over the carriage drive and kept us awake with their shrieking. Fortunately, my sister married the following year, so we presented them to her.”
“I wonder who she passed them on to when she got tired of them?” Gervase said, much entertained. “I envision them being passed on through the family until they have toured the whole of Scotland and finally settled into honourable retirement somewhere in Berwick.”
Heather was giggling. “Don’t. Now I am going to have to ask her. I wonder if she did pass them on again. I don’t remember seeing them the last time I visited her.”
They were still laughing as they arrived at the Serpentine. The water was silver-grey on this cloudy afternoon, and the path around the lake was deserted. It was growing colder, and a breeze blew across the water, rippling the smooth surface and setting the feathers on Heather’s bonnet dancing. Gervase eyed her blue pelisse.
“Are you going to be warm enough? I hadn’t realised it was this cold. In fact, I’m looking at the sky and wondering if this was a good idea. It might rain.”
“Well if it does, we shall not die of it. Though my hat may not survive. A good thing too, I dislike it very much.”
Gervase studied the bonnet. “I don’t see why. It’s a perfectly good hat.”
“With half an aviary pinned to the top. My sister-in-law chose the trimming, she assured me that it was all the crack, but every time I wear it, I expect to be the target of some amorous pigeon. Look at it, it’s ridiculous.”
Gervase began to laugh again. “I’m never going to be able to look at a feather trimmed bonnet in quite the same way.”
“You certainly won’t have to look at this one for much longer. Once I get home it will go into a hat box and remain there until one of my periodic cleaning frenzies, when I will find it in some dark corner, remember why I never wear it and give it to the housekeeper.”
“It’s too pretty for a housekeeper.”
“Don’t be so appallingly top-lofty, Captain, you sound like your brother. Why should a housekeeper not have a stylish bonnet? You have quite decided me, Mrs Mackinnon shall have this hat. She will wear it to church with the greatest pride and be the envy of every other female in the servants’ pews.”
“I wish I could see it,” Gervase said wistfully.
“So do I.”
They stopped to watch two swans gliding gracefully over the surface of the lake, occasionally bending their necks in search of food in the water. After a moment, Gervase transferred his gaze to the woman’s face. Heather was smiling a little, either because the elegant birds pleased her or because she was still amused at their previous conversation. She was a small woman, and very slight, which gave Gervase the pleasant sensation of being taller than he was. He thought how much he liked her upright carriage and the confidence with which she held herself.
She seemed to sense his gaze and turned her head to look at him. “You look very serious, Captain. Tell me you are not regretting the impending loss of this hat.”
“I am not regretting the loss of the hat, ma’am. I’m afraid I’m finding it difficult to contemplate losing the wearer, though.”
As soon as he said it, Gervase wished he had not. He had no idea how to say what he wanted to say, but the glib compliment made him cringe. He waited for the set-down he so richly deserved. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and regarded him thoughtfully.
“I am not about to succumb to some fatal illness, Captain, I am simply returning to Scotland.”
“I know, but it’s too far. I only have three weeks, I can’t possibly travel all that way. If you lived in Hertfordshire or Kent I could wait a few days then invent a perfectly plausible and entirely spurious reason to visit the county and follow you. And possibly, away from the balls and the routs and the worst supper in history, I might be able to pluck up the courage to say…to tell you…”
He broke off, trying to read her expression. To his surprise, she still wore the little half-smile. “To tell me?”
“To ask you.”
“What is it that you wish to ask me, Captain?”
“If you would consider postponing your journey in favour of marrying me instead.”
Heather did not move or speak for such a long time, that Gervase felt an urge to babble, simply to fill the silence. He managed to restrain himself with a huge effort. He had not really intended to blurt out his proposal so clumsily, but now that he had done so, he needed to close his mouth and give her time. He wished she was not taking so long.
Finally, she stirred. “I want to say yes,” she said.
“Then say it.”
“I’m afraid to. I did not think I would ever marry again. Not because I have anything against marriage. Quite the opposite. I was very happy for a few years. I simply did not think I would ever meet a man I could care about, the way I cared about Alex.”
“And have you?”
“Oh yes, I think I have. The problem is that I didn’t expect Alex to die so young. It was a terrible shock, and for a time I think I was quite beside myself with grief. It passed eventually and I recovered. But you…with you…I would need to come to terms with the fact that it could very well happen to me again. And I would not even be there.”
Gervase understood, with a sharp pain around his heart. “Because I am a soldier.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I could stop being a soldier.”
She gave a little laugh. “No, you could not, Gervase. You know you couldn’t. The army is part of you, it’s woven into the very fibre of your being. If you failed to report for duty in three weeks’ time, you would be dreadfully unhappy. And I should never stop feeling guilty.”
Her use of his name brought a flood of happiness and with it, a rush of misery as he understood that she was right. He studied her features, admiring the well-marked brows, the slightly arched nose and the mouth which always seemed to hover on the edge of a smile.
“I don’t know what to say to persuade you,” Gervase said finally. “Heather, I love you. I know this is too sudden, I know I’ve not given you time. I’m sorry, I don’t have the time. I want to make some dramatic declaration about giving everything up for you, but…”
“Oh, please do not, it would be so embarrassing,” Heather said fervently. “And then I should be in such a quandary because I haven’t the least intention of giving everything up for you. I don’t want to give up my home and move to London. I’m not even sure it is good for people to give up the things they love to be with another person. Surely there is a better way.”
Gervase reached out and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “I hope there is,” he said. “I hope we can find it. Please don’t give me an answer now. This may be rushed, but at least think about it. Please.”
Heather reached out and caressed his cheek. “Of course, I’m going to think about it,” she said, and Gervase was surprised to hear the catch of tears in her voice. “If I didn’t love you, Gervase, I would just say no.”
Something splashed onto Gervase’s hand. He looked down in surprise and then felt another splash and another. He looked up and realised that the clouds had darkened while they had been talking, and huge raindrops had begun to fall.
“Oh no. No wonder we’re the only people in the park. We need to get back. I think we’re in for a downpour.”
“I think we may be in for a storm, Captain.”
Gervase realised she was right. As they made their way back along the path, it grew steadily darker. Long before they reached the gates the sky lit up with the sudden brilliance of a flash of lightning, followed by the crash of thunder. The rain increased to a downpour and Gervase was soaked within minutes. He looked at Heather. Her pelisse clung to her as though she had fallen into the lake and the despised feathers were a sodden mess over her bonnet. He had thought the pelisse warm enough for a spring walk in the park, but she was shivering now. He hesitated and she flashed him her familiar grin.
“Don’t bother, Captain, your coat is just as wet as I am. I’d suggest we run but soaked skirts are a hazard.”
Another flash of lightning split the dark sky and the crash of thunder was so immediate that Gervase jumped. He looked around him but there was no shelter to be had. The avenue which led to the gate was lined with trees, which bothered him, but it was by far the most direct route and he decided that speed was of the essence. He reached for her hand, and her soaked kid glove squelched.
“I think I may need new gloves as well as a hat,” Heather said. She was trying to sound matter of fact, but the effect was rather spoiled by her chattering teeth.
“I know you can’t run but let’s walk as quickly as possible. It will keep you warmer.”
She kept up with him very well, despite the heavy sodden skirts. The rain was torrential, showing no sign of easing off and there were repeated flashes of lightning. The thunder reminded Gervase of the roar of cannon. He had been through a number of bad storms but this one felt as though it was happening directly over his head.
To his relief, he could make out the shapes of the elaborate iron gates through the rain. Heather sounded breathless and he glanced at her, wondering if it was because she was shivering so much or if he was walking too fast for her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. Just cold and wet. My sister-in-law will be having a fit, she hates thunderstorms.”
“At least she’s not out in it. Take my arm, it’s not far now, and only ten minutes once we’re outside the gates. I’d call a cab but we’d never find one, they’ll all be hiding out waiting for this to finish.”
“They have my sympathy, I’d welcome a nice dry stable right…”
The crash was enormous, shockingly loud amidst the steady beating of the rain, and very close. Gervase jumped violently, and his companion cried out. The dark sky was illuminated above them, then the thunder boomed. Something fell onto the path beside them and it took Gervase a moment to assimilate that it was a piece of burning wood. The brilliance of the lightning was gone, but there was still a fiery glow and an ominous cracking sound. Gervase spun around. The tree was ablaze, orange flames leaping up into the sky. It was also listing dangerously towards the path.
Gervase gave a yell of warning, grasped Heather’s arm and began to run. She kept pace for a few seconds before her legs became entangled in the heavy dragging skirts and she stumbled and fell heavily. Gervase bent to help her up, hearing the crackling of the flames and the creaking, rumbling sound of the tree. The strike had gone deep into its core and it was falling, the branches on fire and the entire trunk looking as though it was alight from within.
Heather made it to her feet, but as they began to run, the tree came down behind them, with a thunderous crash. They were out of reach of the trunk, but not of the blazing branches. Gervase felt one strike his arm, the flames terrifyingly close to his head, and he threw out his arm to bat it away. He thought they were clear, then Heather screamed and went down again, dragging on the hand he was holding. He turned and saw, in horror, that a blazing branch had hit the back of her legs, knocking her off her feet again.
Gervase released her hand and hooked his boot under the branch, kicking it away. Heather’s skirts were blackened to the knee at the back, but they were not alight, probably because they were too wet to catch. Gervase bent and scooped her up into his arms, thanking God that she was not heavy. He ran towards the gates, intent only on getting far enough away from the burning tree to be out of further danger.
When he was sure it was safe, he stopped. Carefully he lowered Heather to the ground. He thought she was unconscious, but as he bent over her, rain pouring off the brim of his hat, she opened her eyes.
“Are you all right, Gervase?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Your legs…”
“I need to get help.”
“No. Help me up, would you? I don’t want to lie here in the rain, I’ll freeze. It’s painful, but I think I can walk.”
Gervase complied reluctantly. As he stood, holding her arm, waiting for her to compose herself enough to begin the walk, he heard voices raised in a babble of consternation. Turning, he realised that the lightning strike had attracted attention out in the street and a dozen or more people were running towards them. Gervase felt a rush of relief.
“It’s the cavalry, ma’am. Late as usual and no clue what they’re doing, but when they see something bright and shiny, they can’t resist. Which on this occasion, is a good thing, because they can find me a carriage of some kind, and I can get you home. Just hold on, it won’t be long now.”
He realised that she was swaying on her feet, and he put his arm about her and lowered her once again to the soaked grass. She closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I feel very dizzy. What an unexpectedly dramatic end to a walk.”
“It didn’t really end the way I’d hoped, ma’am.”
Heather opened her distinctive blue-grey eyes and fixed him with a look. “If you call me ‘ma’am’ once more, I will not be answerable for my actions,” she said, and closed her eyes again with an air of finality.
By the time the doctor had left, Heather was exhausted and wanted only to sleep. Dr Medway had dressed the burns on her calves, examined and commented on her very badly skinned and bruised knees from her fall, and bled her. Heather submitted although she privately thought that she might have been better without his treatment. The burns were superficial although sore, her knees hurt but would recover and the bleeding made her feel light-headed. She was not hungry but ate supper to please her brother and his wife who hovered anxiously around her until she feigned sleep to make them go away. Gervase Clevedon had left as soon as he had seen her safe. Heather was both sorry and glad. Their conversation had resolved nothing, and she knew she needed to give him a definite answer, but she had to have some time to herself.
She had expected to lie awake turning the matter over in her mind, but to her surprise she fell asleep quickly and did not wake until her sister-in-law appeared along with a maid carrying a breakfast tray. Fiona watched critically until she was sure that Heather was eating, then sat down.
“You seem surprisingly well for a woman who was almost burned to death in Hyde Park yesterday.”
“Yes, I take these things in my stride,” Heather said, sipping her tea. She put down her cup and met Fiona’s interested gaze. “It was utterly terrifying,” she admitted.
“I’m not surprised. What on earth possessed you to stay out so long? We could see that storm coming in. When Susan returned to the house alone, I was about to send the carriage out to find you.”
“We lost track of time, we were talking. I didn’t notice anything until it began to rain.”
Heather finished her tea and contemplated a baked egg. “Fiona, if you continue to beat around the bush, it will be dinner time before you have discovered what you wish to know, and you know how quickly I become bored.”
“Did he ask you to marry him?”
“Did you give him an answer?”
“No. I asked for time to think about it. After that, events rather took over.”
“I can see that they would. Heather, I don’t wish to pry…”
“Yes you do.”
“All right. I have every intention of prying as much as I am able. My dear, I’ve known you since we were both children. I’ve been watching you for two months trying not to fall in love with Captain Clevedon, and you have made a very poor job of it. Why did you not say yes?”
“It isn’t that simple, Fiona. I do…like him. And he seems to like me as well. But…”
“From the moment you walk into a room, Heather, he cannot see anybody else.”
Heather felt her pulse quicken a little. She looked up from her plate. “Really?”
“Really. It is generally assumed, you know, that you will be engaged before he goes back to Portugal.”
“By everybody who has seen you together. Nothing could be more suitable. He is charming, personable, not at all bad to look at…”
“Not bad?” Heather said indignantly. “I consider him very handsome.”
“He could be taller, but he has very fine eyes.”
“Well, he is quite tall enough for me, given that I am a midget. Besides, looks do not matter. Alex had a face rather like a friendly goat, and I was devoted to him.”
Fiona studied her sympathetically. “Is Alex the problem? It’s been three years, Heather.”
“It isn’t Alex. He would tell me to do whatever I wanted and be happy. I think he would approve of Gervase.”
“So do I.”
“But I never thought I would marry again, Fiona. I don’t need to. I have Comrie Castle and a comfortable income.”
“Don’t you want children?”
“I’ve no idea if I can have children. Fortunately, you and Charles seem willing to provide me with plenty of nephews and nieces. That’s not a reason for me to marry, Fiona.”
“But you love him.”
Heather lowered her eyes to the tray. She had lost interest in the food. “I don’t know. I thought I did. I think I do. But surely if I did, I wouldn’t have these doubts?”
“Were you going home early because you were running away from him, Heather?”
Heather looked up with a rueful smile. “Yes. And if it had not been for this wretched accident, I would be packing now.”
“Well you can’t leave yet, the doctor is adamant you should at least rest for a few days. And those burns look nasty.”
“They’re not that bad. But you’re right, I am not feeling equal to days of travelling. Besides, now that he has asked me, I cannot run away without giving him my answer.”
“I don’t think he’s going to let you, my love. He’s already called this morning and asked if he might come back this afternoon if you’ll be ready to receive callers.”
“Oh no,” Heather said, startled. “I cannot see him like this, I look like a scarecrow.”
Fiona stood up, laughing. “I’ll call Sally to take that tray and I’ll send up Susan to help you dress.”
“Fiona, are you by any chance trying to coerce me into this marriage?”
“I’m not, Heather, truly. But I don’t understand what is stopping you. Perhaps you can explain it to him.”
“I’ve already explained it to him,” Heather said in a rush. Suddenly she was close to tears. “He’s a soldier. Three weeks, that’s all I have. After that, I wave him off and sit waiting for the post to see if he is alive or dead. It could be years before he comes home, and we can be married. I don’t know if I can bear it, Fiona.”
Her sister-in-law stood looking at her for a long moment. Then she said quietly:
“Heather, do you think you will feel any better if you refuse him and read about his death in the Gazette? Or if he comes home and finds a pretty little debutante and it’s his marriage announcement you’re reading?”
“Don’t. You’re as bad as Charles.”
“Charles is a tactless oaf, but he is right. You’ve already fallen in love with Gervase Clevedon. What he does and where he goes is always going to matter to you, whether he’s betrothed to you or to somebody else. And he’s the son of an Earl, you can’t avoid hearing about him unless you never read another newspaper.”
“That would not be a hardship.”
“Utter rubbish, you’ll be scanning the army lists and the gossip columns for the rest of your life. I know how much losing Alex hurt you, Heather, I was there, remember? But you can’t shield yourself from pain without losing the chance of happiness. And I think this man might make you very happy.”
Heather realised she was crying. She scrubbed at her face fiercely and the china on the tray rattled dangerously. Fiona caught it before it slid onto the floor, lifted it onto Heather’s dressing table, then went to the bell pull.
“You have to see him,” she said.
Captain Clevedon arrived punctually at the afternoon calling hour and was shown into the ladies’ parlour. Heather was sure Fiona had instructed the butler to refuse all other callers. Fiona greeted him pleasantly, thanked him again for taking care of Heather on the previous day, then departed with no excuse at all. Heather glared after her retreating back, then turned to her visitor, quaking.
He was as immaculately turned out as ever, with no sign of their adventure apart from a long scratch on one cheek. As soon as the door had closed behind Fiona, he came forward and took Heather’s hand.
“How are you? Lady Crawleigh said that the burns weren’t serious, but I didn’t sleep last night worrying about you.”
Heather felt irrationally guilty. “I slept very well, I must have been exhausted.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ve never known a stroll in Hyde Park to be so exciting, I’m almost looking forward to a battlefield in Portugal for a rest. Seriously though…”
“Seriously, Gervase, I’m very well. What of you? I didn’t notice that scratch yesterday.”
“Nor did I, it must have been a branch. I’ve a burn on my upper arm and my jacket is beyond hope, but I’ve a spare and time to order a new one, thank goodness.”
“I’m afraid my hat did not survive,” Heather said apologetically. “I’m sorry, I know you were very attached to it.”
He started to laugh. “We’re about to start talking utter nonsense again. And I do enjoy it, Heather, really I do. But I’m too nervous to make the best of it today. Do you mind if we’re serious, just for a short time?”
Heather smiled back at him. “Of course. Shall we sit down, then? It’s far better to have serious conversations when seated, it checks the urge to pace about the room dramatically.”
“I’d never thought of that. I might suggest it to Major van Daan. From a safe distance, mind, just in case he punches me.”
When they were seated, Gervase cleared his throat. Heather recognised his nervousness and decided to speak first. They spoke at the same time and both stopped immediately.
There was a short awkward silence. Then Gervase said quickly:
“I know that the gentlemanly thing to do would be to allow you to go first, but may I?”
“I’m sorry about yesterday. Sorry that it descended into such a disaster, but sorry as well that I made such a mull of proposing to you. I’ve been trying to work myself up to it, but I was rather thrown when you told me you were going out of town so soon. I rushed it.”
Heather smiled. “Gervase, it didn’t matter how you said it, I was always going to panic.”
“Didn’t you realise I was going to ask you?”
“Oh…I don’t know. I knew how I felt of course, and I suspected that you…I don’t know, Gervase. I think I did know. I think that’s why I decided to leave. I was running away, which was very silly and a little unkind. I’ve been concentrating so hard on how I feel that I’ve not considered you at all. I’m not usually this selfish.”
“Are you still leaving town?”
Heather shook her head. “No. I can’t travel that far until I feel a little better. But I wouldn’t anyway, now. I’m so glad you spoke when you did, it has made me realise that I cannot flee back to Scotland and pretend this has not happened.”
“I’m glad too. I asked you to think about it, but I don’t suppose you’ve had the chance…”
“Oh for goodness sake, Gervase, do not speak like an idiot when you are clearly very intelligent. I’ve thought of nothing else all day.”
“Then tell me.”
“I am very confused,” Heather said, twisting her hands together in her lap. “When I try to imagine agreeing to a betrothal, it terrifies me. I will have three lovely weeks as your fiancée, and I know perfectly well that by the end of them I will love you more than ever. And then I will wave you off and go home to wait for you, and dread every letter that is delivered in case it is bad news. I know how it feels to lose the man I love. I don’t know if I can bear it again. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Oh love, yes, of course I understand. No wonder you’re terrified. But I am too.”
“Yes. I had no intention at all of falling in love this season, it is a ridiculous thing to have done. I meant to attend a few parties, meet some old friends and then go home to Ampthill and spend a week or two recovering before going back to barracks in Melton Mowbray. You turned everything upside down.”
Heather was astonished. “Are you telling me you have remained in London because of me?”
“Of course I have. My brother is here, Heather, which is always my cue to be somewhere else. It’s been torture seeing so much of him.”
“I must say, that is an impressive sign of your devotion.”
“Don’t start, or we shall get nowhere, and we’re running out of time. I want so much to tell you that I will leave the army and devote my life to making you happy. But…”
“I wouldn’t allow you to do that, Gervase. It would be like you asking me to sell Comrie.”
“One day I’ll be home, love, but I can’t tell you when that will be and I won’t lie to you. I love you. I want to marry you. I know I’m asking a lot. I know it might be too much. It’s all I have.”
Heather could feel tears beginning to fall. “Gervase, I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do.”
“Nor do I, but I’ve found that panic is a great motivator, so here’s what I’ve done. Yesterday, after I left you here, I made a number of calls, while still soaking wet, covered in mud and looking like a lunatic. I’m surprised nobody sent a message to either Bow Street or Bedlam, but I managed to obtain this.”
Heather regarded the folded paper he was holding out to her. After a moment, she reached out and took it. She unfolded it and stared at it for a long time. He waited in silence. Eventually she looked up.
“It’s a special licence.”
“It is. I also made a visit to the rector of St George’s, who is an old family friend. He clearly thought I was mad, but he examined his church calendar and, subject to your approval, he is able to marry us on Wednesday at eleven o’clock. You may invite whomever you choose, but I would be happy with just your brother and his wife.”
“Oh.” Heather knew she sounded utterly witless, but she felt the need to say something and could think of nothing better. “That is very organised of you, Captain Clevedon.”
“Thank you. If you agree to this piece of insanity, I propose to take you home to Bedfordshire to meet my mother and I will spend three weeks trying to convince you you’ve made the right choice. After that, I have to leave, and you’re free to remain for a while to get to know your new home, or to return to your old one and wait for me there. Or you can come back to London and cut a dash as the new Mrs Clevedon. As long as you’re happy and safe and well and will wait for me…Heather, I know this isn’t good enough for you. Nothing I can offer is good enough for you. But…”
“Yes, it is.” Suddenly, Heather found that she could both move and speak, and she followed her instinct and moved towards him. He put his arms about her without any hesitation and kissed her. For a while, she lost all sense of time and when they were finally interrupted by a polite cough from the doorway, Heather realised that she was lying across his lap in the most ridiculous position. It felt very comfortable and she sat up somewhat resentfully, noticing that her hair had come down.
“I am so sorry to interrupt,” Fiona said. “It’s just that Dr Medway has called. He wants to look at the dressing on your burns. And I was wondering if Captain Clevedon will be staying to dinner. We don’t have any other guests today.”
Heather turned her head to look at him. He was smiling at her, waiting, and she knew with complete certainty that even now, if she sent him away, he would go without recrimination. She decided that life back at Comrie would be far better waiting for his letters and knowing that he would be coming home to her one day.
“Captain Clevedon will be staying to dinner,” she said firmly. “And Fiona, I need your help. I’m getting married in two days’ time, and I don’t think I have anything suitable to wear.”
It was the usual chaos at Southampton and it took Gervase half a day to find the correct transport for his company. He felt slightly guilty knowing that his subalterns had done all the work preparing the company for embarkation, but there was little for him to do, so he inspected his men, complimented his juniors and then went in search of his commanding officer.
Gervase found him in a comfortable inn not far from the quayside. Major Paul van Daan was writing a letter at a table in the tap room, but he rose as Gervase entered and came forward. Gervase saluted and Paul returned the salute and then pulled out a chair.
“Sit down and have a drink. It’s good to see you, Gervase. Are you fully recovered? You look so much better, I was delighted when you wrote that you were well enough. Not everybody has done as well, we’ve only six companies setting sail, but I’m hoping they can bring the others up to strength soon.”
“I’m very well, sir. Looking forward to getting back to work. Is Sir Arthur Wellesley sailing with us?”
“Yes, he’s aboard my transport. Along with my wife, she’s coming with me this time, at least as far as Lisbon. I’ve kept on the villa I rented last year.”
“I look forward to seeing her, sir.”
They talked for a while of army news and Gervase enjoyed the sense of being part of the regiment again. He had no particular desire to share his own news. It was too new and too precious and he would have liked to keep it to himself for a while longer, but he knew he could not. In the general conversation of regimental life, and the banter in the officers’ mess, he would either have to speak up or lie, and he would not lie. He waited until the first exchange of news was over. Eventually, Paul summoned the waiter with more drinks.
“Did you see your brother?”
“Briefly. I also saw your brother, sir, which was much more pleasant.”
“Did you? Joshua didn’t mention it, but he’s been busy. What about…”
“Sir, I imagine some of the others are going to be joining us for dinner, and there’s something I need to speak to you about first.”
Paul stopped and regarded him in surprise. “Of course. Go on. Unless it’s going to annoy me, in which case stop now.”
Gervase laughed. “I don’t think it will annoy you, sir, but I do have a confession. I’ve rather broken army rules, I’m afraid. A minor matter. I didn’t even think about it until afterwards.”
“Captain, in the five years I’ve known you, I swear to God you’ve not put a toe out of place. I’d be amazed if you could upset me. What have you done?”
Gervase took a very deep breath. “I got married, sir, without asking your permission.”
There was a very long silence. The waiter appeared with the wine and poured. Paul waited until he had gone.
“You did what?”
“I got married, sir.”
“And you didn’t think to write to me?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It was all rather sudden. It honestly didn’t occur to me.”
“Gervase, I do not give a damn about permission. You have it, retrospectively. But this great hurry…is everything all right?”
Gervase tried to suppress a grin and failed. “We married in a hurry because we wanted some time together before I left,” he said.
Paul’s expressive face cleared. “An excellent reason. I’m assuming this is the attractive Mrs MacLeod.”
“Yes,” Gervase said suspiciously. “How do you know she’s attractive?”
“I asked Wellesley if he knew her and he managed to point her out her when we were riding in the Row on the day before I left. You’ve excellent taste, Captain.”
“I will behave, I swear it. Gervase, congratulations. I wish I’d known, I’d have posted down to meet her. Was there even a notice in the Times?”
“I missed it. I never read the thing anyway. This has been done very quietly. Is that how you want it?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell my friends of course, but I don’t want a big announcement or a celebration. It was a very quiet affair, which is what we both wanted.”
“That’s your choice, Captain. Johnny and Carl and a few of the others are dining here today. Do you want to tell them, or shall I?”
“You can do it,” Gervase said gratefully.
“I’ll propose a toast to the bride and groom and after that, we’ll leave it alone. If I were you, I’d tell the men though. They’ll find out anyway and they’ll appreciate it coming from you especially with an extra grog ration to drink your health.”
“I’ll see to it, sir. Thank you.”
Paul sipped his wine and regarded him with amusement. “Of all the men I’d have expected to make a hasty marriage on furlough, Captain, you’d have been close to the bottom of the list. She must have made a big impression on you.”
Gervase suppressed a grin. He felt suddenly as though Heather was in the room with him and he managed not to snigger.
“Like a bolt of lightning, sir,” he said seriously.