An Infamous Army Read online

  Barbara laughed, and, laying her hand on Colonel Audley’s arm, said: ‘Oh, the wishes of Royalty are tantamount to commands, gentlemen.’ She kissed her hand to her court, and walked back on to the floor with Colonel Audley.

  He danced well, and she as though by instinct. Neither spoke for one or two turns, but presently Barbara raised her eyes to his face, and asked abruptly: ‘Why did you look at me so?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘I don’t know how I looked. I have been wanting to dance with you all evening. Does every man say that to you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied nonchalantly.

  ‘I was afraid it must be so. I wish I might think of something to say to you which would interest you by its novelty.’

  ‘Oh! . . . Can you not?’

  ‘No. If I said the only thing I can think of to say you would find it abominably commonplace.’

  ‘Should I? What is it?’

  ‘I love you,’ replied the Colonel.

  Momentary surprise, which caused her wonderful eyes to fly upwards to his again, gave place immediately to frank amusement. Her enchanting gurgle of laughter escaped her; she said: ‘You are wrong. The unexpected cannot be commonplace.’

  ‘Was it unexpected? I had not thought that possible.’

  ‘Certainly. At the end of a week I might expect you to say just that, but you have said it within ten minutes of making my acquaintance, and so have taken my breath away. Go on: I like to be surprised.’

  ‘That is all,’ said the Colonel.

  Again she cast him that considering glance. ‘You are very clever, or very simple. Which is it?’

  ‘I haven’t a notion,’ replied the Colonel.

  ‘Ah! Is this strategy—from a staff officer?’

  ‘No, it is the truth.’

  ‘But, my friend, you are fantastic! You will next be making me an offer!’

  He nodded. She saw the twinkle in his eye and responded to it. ‘Let us sit down. I don’t care to dance any more. Who are you?’

  He compelled her to continue dancing the length of the room, and then led her off the floor to the entrance doors, and through them into the first antechamber.

  ‘My name is Charles Audley; my army rank lieutenant-colonel; my regimental rank, major. What else shall I tell you?’

  She interrupted him. ‘Audley . . . Oh, I have it! You are Worth’s brother. Why did the Prince present you to me?’

  ‘Because I asked him to. That was my only strategy.’

  She sat down upon a couch against the wall, and with a movement of her hand invited him to take his place beside her. He did so, and after a moment she said with her odd, boyish curtness: ‘I think I never saw you before tonight, did I?’

  ‘Never. I have been employed in the Peninsula, and later in Paris and Vienna. But I have a little the advantage of you. You, I daresay, had never heard of me before, but I had heard of you.’

  ‘That’s horrid!’ she said quickly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh! People never say nice things about me. What have you been told?’

  ‘That you were beautiful.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And disastrous.’

  ‘I don’t mind that, but should not you take care?’

  ‘You are forgetting that I am a soldier, and therefore inured to risks.’

  She laughed. ‘You’ve a confoundedly ready tongue! Come, take me back into the ballroom: my reputation won’t stand all this sitting about in antechambers, I can tell you.’

  He rose at once, but said: ‘I wonder why you chose to tell me that?’

  She too was on her feet; she had to look up to meet his eyes, but only a little. ‘You don’t like it, do you?’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it is the truth. I play fair, you see.’

  He looked at her for a moment, half smiling, then raised his head, and held up a finger. ‘Listen! Do you know that waltz they are playing? It has been the rage in Vienna. Will you dance with me again?’

  A shade of admiration came into her eyes; she said appreciatively: ‘The deuce take it! I believe—yes, I believe that was a snub! But you must not snub me!’

  He turned towards her, and took both hands in a strong clasp. ‘Don’t speak ill of yourself, and I won’t. There!’ He raised her hands one after another to his lips, and lightly kissed them. ‘My dance, I think, Lady Barbara?’

  They went back into the ballroom; the Colonel’s arm encircled that supple waist; a gloved hand lay light as a feather on his shoulder; Barbara murmured: ‘You waltz charmingly, Colonel.’

  ‘So do you, Lady Barbara.’

  She stole a mischievous glance up at his face. ‘That was to be expected. It is still thought a trifle fast in England, you know.’

  From a little distance, Georgiana Lennox, circling round very dashingly with Lord Hay, caught sight of them, and promptly exclaimed: ‘Oh, how infamous!’

  ‘Where? Who?’ demanded Hay.

  ‘Over there, stupid! Don’t you see? Bab Childe has seized on one of the nicest men in Brussels! Of all the wretched pieces of work! I do think she might be content with her odious Lavisse, and not steal Charles Audley as well!’

  ‘Lucky devil!’ said Hay.

  ‘Sir!’ Georgiana in outraged accents. ‘Take me back to Mama this instant, if you please!’

  ‘Oh lord!’ gasped Hay ruefully. ‘I didn’t mean it, Georgy, really I didn’t!’

  She allowed herself to be mollified, but remarked sagely: ‘You may think him lucky, but I expect Lady Worth won’t.’

  She was quite right. From the harbour of Sir Henry Clinton’s gallant arm, Judith too had perceived her brother-in-law and his partner. That the couple could waltz better than any other in the room, and were attracting some attention, afforded her not the slightest gratification. She had observed the look on Colonel Audley’s face, and although she had never before seen him wear that particular expression she had not the least doubt of its significance.

  Sir Henry, noticing the direction of her troubled gaze, manoeuvred that he too might see what had caught her eye. He said: ‘Your brother-in-law, is it not, Lady Worth?’

  ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged.

  ‘Dances very well, I see. All the Duke’s family do, of course. But he will be making enemies if he monopolises Bab Childe.’

  ‘Monopolises her?’ faltered Judith. ‘Is not this the first time he has danced with her?’

  ‘Oh no! He was dancing with her the last waltz. My wife tells me the young fellows form up in column for the honour of obtaining the lady’s hand.’

  ‘Charles is fortunate, then,’ said Judith.

  ‘If you choose to call it fortunate,’ said Sir Henry, giving her a somewhat shrewd look. ‘I don’t want to see any of my staff entangled in that direction. She has a very unsettling effect, from what I can discover. One of Barnes’s boys lost his head badly over her, and is now of about as much use to Barnes as my wife’s little spaniel would be.’

  ‘I wonder who introduced Charles to her?’

  Sir Henry laughed shortly. ‘I can tell you that, dear lady. The Prince of Orange.’

  Judith pursued the subject no further. Sir Henry’s differences with the Prince made it tactless to introduce that ebullient young gentleman’s name into any conversation with his second-in-command.

  Colonel Audley relinquished Barbara presently, and discovering a disinclination in himself to dance with anyone else, went away in search of other amusement. This was not hard to find, for he had many friends present, and was able to spend a pleasant hour wandering about the ballroom and the adjoining salons, exchanging greetings and news with his acquaintances.

  Two suppers were being served at midnight, the one a select affair given by the King to his more distinguished guests; the other a less select and more informal entertainment held in an adjoining salon. The Earl and Countess of Worth were of the first party; so, too, was Colonel Audley, in his character of aide-de-camp. He was about to join the stream