you know how long you spend with your men and how little time with me.’ Still frowning, she grabbed a gown from the bed and threw it around her shoulders. ‘Oh, I hate this place.’
‘Then, really, perhaps do you not think that you should return to Brussels? Or you might go to Antwerp, or Ostend. You know that it was not my idea that you should come here.’
‘And, in truth, I’m beginning to regret that I ever did and why I ever bothered.’ She turned away from him but he knew that she was only shamming her grief; testing him again.
Steel put a hand about her shoulders. ‘I promise that I shall make a special effort to be quick about my duties. Just for you. At least we shall have dinner together.’
She turned to him. ‘It’s not dinner that I want, Jack. It’s you.’
‘And you shall have me, my darling. Just as soon as I’ve seen the Duke. Now why don’t you get dressed? I know for a fact that cook has a dozen oysters set aside for your breakfast. I’ll see you just as soon as I return.’
He turned and opened the door, closing it quickly behind him lest he should look once more into her eyes and be diverted from his purpose. Steel walked down the dark staircase of the old house and counted himself the luckiest man in the world. A captaincy, another battle survived, a company of grenadiers and the loveliest, most devoted and doting wife in all the world.
Back in the tawdry bedroom, Henrietta sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a silk stocking. Of course she had stopped sulking the moment Steel had left the room. She did not really care that he had gone. Jack would be back soon and then they would have as much of the day together as he could spare. Which, she thought, was probably damn little. In any case, what was there to do here in this stinkhole except make love, eat and drink? True, all three excited her, and with Jack the first was as good if not better than it had been with any of her many former lovers. But it was not enough. She craved society. And shops. Almost as much as she craved his presence in her bed. More, even. She smiled. Perhaps she would return to Brussels ere long. Campaigning was such a bore. The army was a bore – though she would never have admitted as much to dear Jack. It seemed that he was forever on duty, attending to his men in some way or another. They were like so many children, always demanding something of their officer. She wondered that they were ever able to fight a battle.
Jack, it seemed, had so little time for her here. In Brussels at least she had the company of the other wives – what there was of them. Mrs Melville, the wife of the commander of Number 4 company and the only other wife out here with the battalion, was passably agreeable. In small doses. The two of them had agreed that when she returned to Brussels, where Mrs Melville had wisely remained, they would visit the little milliner’s shop in the rue des Bouchers, where Madame Delvaux had set aside twenty yards of lace for her. It was, she had been assured, the exact same pattern lately bought by the Queen of England herself, and Henrietta was determined to have it. What matter that it might be more than seven pounds a yard? And then there was the prettiest flowered damask and an Indian stuff they called Baguzee, the like of which you never saw. She smiled to herself and rang for the maid to help her dress. Yes, she would have it all on her return. Blow the expense. In any case, Jack would be worth a great deal more in the near future if she were to have her way. Until then they would just have to exist on credit, like everyone else.
She tugged again on the tapestry bell-pull hanging on the wall to summon her maid and, as the simple girl was helping her into her clothes, placing her new-fangled, hooped petticoat over her head and over that the new ash-coloured silk quilted petticoat, she continued her musings. The maid, a timid, brainless child whose name was Maria and whom she had lately
‘Then, really, perhaps do you not think that you should return to Brussels? Or you might go to Antwerp, or Ostend. You know that it was not my idea that you should come here.’
‘And, in truth, I’m beginning to regret that I ever did and why I ever bothered.’ She turned away from him but he knew that she was only shamming her grief; testing him again.
Steel put a hand about her shoulders. ‘I promise that I shall make a special effort to be quick about my duties. Just for you. At least we shall have dinner together.’
She turned to him. ‘It’s not dinner that I want, Jack. It’s you.’
‘And you shall have me, my darling. Just as soon as I’ve seen the Duke. Now why don’t you get dressed? I know for a fact that cook has a dozen oysters set aside for your breakfast. I’ll see you just as soon as I return.’
He turned and opened the door, closing it quickly behind him lest he should look once more into her eyes and be diverted from his purpose. Steel walked down the dark staircase of the old house and counted himself the luckiest man in the world. A captaincy, another battle survived, a company of grenadiers and the loveliest, most devoted and doting wife in all the world.
Back in the tawdry bedroom, Henrietta sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a silk stocking. Of course she had stopped sulking the moment Steel had left the room. She did not really care that he had gone. Jack would be back soon and then they would have as much of the day together as he could spare. Which, she thought, was probably damn little. In any case, what was there to do here in this stinkhole except make love, eat and drink? True, all three excited her, and with Jack the first was as good if not better than it had been with any of her many former lovers. But it was not enough. She craved society. And shops. Almost as much as she craved his presence in her bed. More, even. She smiled. Perhaps she would return to Brussels ere long. Campaigning was such a bore. The army was a bore – though she would never have admitted as much to dear Jack. It seemed that he was forever on duty, attending to his men in some way or another. They were like so many children, always demanding something of their officer. She wondered that they were ever able to fight a battle.
Jack, it seemed, had so little time for her here. In Brussels at least she had the company of the other wives – what there was of them. Mrs Melville, the wife of the commander of Number 4 company and the only other wife out here with the battalion, was passably agreeable. In small doses. The two of them had agreed that when she returned to Brussels, where Mrs Melville had wisely remained, they would visit the little milliner’s shop in the rue des Bouchers, where Madame Delvaux had set aside twenty yards of lace for her. It was, she had been assured, the exact same pattern lately bought by the Queen of England herself, and Henrietta was determined to have it. What matter that it might be more than seven pounds a yard? And then there was the prettiest flowered damask and an Indian stuff they called Baguzee, the like of which you never saw. She smiled to herself and rang for the maid to help her dress. Yes, she would have it all on her return. Blow the expense. In any case, Jack would be worth a great deal more in the near future if she were to have her way. Until then they would just have to exist on credit, like everyone else.
She tugged again on the tapestry bell-pull hanging on the wall to summon her maid and, as the simple girl was helping her into her clothes, placing her new-fangled, hooped petticoat over her head and over that the new ash-coloured silk quilted petticoat, she continued her musings. The maid, a timid, brainless child whose name was Maria and whom she had lately
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