An Infamous Army Read online

  ‘I am not a penny the wiser,’ said Lord Fitzroy, his quiet, slightly drawling voice in as great a contrast to the Prince’s vivacity as were his fair locks and square, handsome countenance to the Prince’s dark hair and erratic features. ‘You forget how long it is since I was in England. Charles, that’s my pen, and it suits me very well without your mending it. What’s more, it’s my desk, and I’ve work to do.’

  ‘I shan’t be more than a minute,’ replied the Colonel. ‘Have you noticed how devilish official he’s become lately, Billy? It’s from standing in the Great Man’s shoes, I suppose.’

  ‘You shall not divert me,’ said the Prince. ‘I observe the attempt, but it is useless. When do you announce your approaching marriage?’

  ‘Now, if you like,’ said the Colonel, dipping his pen in the ink, and drawing a sheet of paper towards him.

  The Prince’s jaw dropped. He stared at Colonel Audley and then laughed. ‘Oh yes, I am very stupid! I shall certainly swallow that canard!’

  ‘If he’s going to conduct his flirtations on Government paper, I demand to know the identity of the Fatal—what did you say her name was, Billy?’

  ‘Barbara! The disastrous Lady Barbara Childe!’ answered the Prince dramatically.

  ‘Barbara Childe? Oh, I know! Bab Alastair that was. Is she accounted fatal?’

  ‘But entirely, Fitzroy! A veritable Circe—and I delivered Charles into her power!’

  The Colonel looked up. ‘Yes, you did, so you shall be the first to know that she is going to become my wife.’

  The Prince blinked at him. ‘Plaît-il?’

  Colonel Audley sealed his letter, wrote the direction, and got up. ‘Quite true,’ he assured the Prince, and went out to deliver his note to the waiting servant.

  The Prince turned an astonished countenance towards Lord Fitzroy, and said, stammering a little, as he always did when excited ‘B—but it’s—it’s n—not possible! Scores of men have offered for Lady Bab, and she refused them all!’

  ‘Well, she’s chosen a very good man in the end,’ responded Fitzroy, seating himself at the desk.

  ‘My poor Fitzroy, you do not understand! It is most remarkable—éclatant!’

  ‘I see nothing very remarkable in two persons falling in love,’ said Fitzroy with unaltered calm. ‘Did I happen to mention that I was busy?’

  ‘I am your superior officer,’ declared the Prince. ‘I command that you attend to me, and immediately treat me with respect.’

  Lord Fitzroy promptly stood up, and clicked his heels together. ‘I beg your Royal Highness’s pardon!’

  His Royal Highness made a grab at a heavy paperweight on the desk, but Lord Fitzroy was quicker. The entrance into the room of a very junior member of the staff put an end to what promised to be a most undignified scene. Lord Fitzroy at once released the paperweight, and the Prince, acknowledging the newcomer’s salute, departed in search of a more appreciative audience.

  By the end of the day the news of the engagement had spread all over Brussels. Both parties to it had had to endure congratulation, incredulity, and much raillery. The Colonel bore it with his usual good humour, but he was not surprised, on his arrival in the Rue Ducale, to find his betrothed in a stormy mood. Neither his host nor his hostess was in the salon when he entered it; there was only Lady Barbara, standing by the fireplace with her elbow on the mantelshelf, and one sandalled foot angrily tapping the floor.

  The servant announced Colonel Audley, and he walked in to encounter a flashing glance from Barbara’s eyes. Her lips parted, not smiling, and he saw her teeth gritted together. He laughed, and went up to her, and took her hands. ‘My dear, has it been very bad?’ he asked. ‘Do you think you can bear it?’

  She looked at him; her teeth unclenched: she said: ‘Can you?’

  ‘Why yes, but my case is not so hard. They all envy me, of course.’

  The white, angry look left her face. She pulled one of his hands up to her mouth, and softly kissed it. ‘You’re a dear, Charles.’

  He took her in his arms. ‘You mustn’t do that,’ he said.

  ‘I wanted to,’ she replied, turning her face up to his. ‘I always do what I want. Oh, but Charles, how odiously commonplace it is! I wish we had eloped instead!’

  ‘That would have been worse—vulgar!’

  ‘What I do is not vulgar!’ she said snappishly.

  ‘Exactly. So you didn’t elope.’

  She moved away from him to cast herself into a chair by the fire. She thrust one bare foot in its golden sandal forward, and demanded: ‘How do you like my gilded toenails?’

  ‘Very well indeed,’ he answered. ‘Is it a notion of your own?’

  ‘Oh no! It’s a trick Parisian harlots have!’ she flung at him.

  Contrary to her expectation, this made him laugh. She stiffened in her chair. ‘Don’t you care, then?’

  ‘Not a bit! It’s a charming fashion.’

  ‘You will hear it very badly spoke of tonight, I warn you!’

  ‘Oh no, I shan’t!’ said the Colonel cheerfully. ‘Whatever criticisms may be made of you will certainly not be made to me.’

  ‘Do you mean to fight my battles? You will be kept busy!’ She opened her reticule, and drew a letter from it and handed it to him. ‘Your sister-in-law sent me these felicitations. She doesn’t like me, does she?’

  ‘No, I don’t think she does,’ responded the Colonel, glancing through Judith’s civil letter.

  An impish look came into her eye. ‘I wonder whether she meant you to fall in love with that insipid protégée of hers?’ she said. ‘I can’t recall her name. But an heiress, I believe. Oh, famous! I am sure that was it!’

  ‘But who?’ he demanded. ‘You do not mean Miss Devenish?’

  ‘Yes, that was the name! Lord, to think I’ve lost you a fortune, Charles!’

  ‘You must be crazy! I am persuaded Judith could never have entertained such an absurd notion!’

  ‘Flirt with the chit, and see how your sister likes it!’

  ‘No, no, I leave all that sort of thing to you, my sweet!’

  ‘Wretch! Good God, how has this come about? I have talked myself into a good humour. I swear I meant to quarrel with you!’ A doubt assailed her; she said challengingly: ‘Charles! Was it your doing?’

  ‘Strategy of a staff officer? On my honour, no!’

  She jumped up, and almost flung herself into his arms. There was an urgency in the face upturned to his; she said: ‘Marry me! Marry me soon—at once—before I change my mind!’

  He took her face between his hands, staring down at her. She felt his fingers tremble slightly, and wondered what thoughts chased one another behind the trouble in his eyes. Suddenly his hands dropped to her shoulders, and thrust her away from him. ‘No!’ he said curtly.

  ‘No?’ she repeated. ‘Don’t you want to, Charles?’

  ‘Want to!’ He broke off, and turned from her to the fireplace, and stood looking down at the smouldering logs.

  She gave a little laugh. ‘This is certainly intriguing. I am rejected, then?’

  He looked up. ‘Do you think you don’t tempt me? To marry you out of hand—to possess you before you had had time to regret! Oh, my love, don’t speak of this again! You spoke of changing your mind. If that is to come, you shall not be tied to me.’

  ‘You give me time to consider? Strange! I had never a suitor like you, Charles!’

  ‘I love you too much to snatch you before you know me, before you know your own heart!’

  ‘Ah! You are wiser than I am,’ she said, with a faint smile.

  They were interrupted by Lady Vidal, who came into the room, followed by her husband. She greeted Colonel Audley with cold civility, but her lack of warmth was atoned for by Vidal’s marked display of friendliness. He was able to wish the Colonel joy with blunt cordiality, and even to crack a jest at his sister’s expense.

  They were soon joined by Lord Harry, who had ridden in from Enghien to attend the evening’s party. He s