The Officer and the Proper Lady by Louise Allen

gripped him from the moment when she had stumbled into his arms in the forest. Now, to his shame, he wanted her in his bed, under him, around him. He wanted her innocence.
    Hal was not used to feeling guilty about anything. He did his military duty with passion and integrity, because that was his life and his responsibility and his honour would not allow him to do anything else. The women he associated with were all at least as experienced as he—nothing to feel guilty about there—and all his other sins harmed no-one but himself.
    But now he felt guilt, not for what he had almost done, but for what he wanted to do. A sense of utter unworthiness swept through him. Julia was standing there, trusting and friendly. How would the lookin those clear brown eyes change if she saw what he knew was the real Hal Carlow and not the fiction he had created for her?
    She was an innocent who believed he was her friend, a rake who had momentarily lost control of himself. Hal tried to find the strength to snub her, drive her away, and he failed utterly. He must, if nothing else, distance himself from her after today. I am not worthy of her.
    â€˜Are you going to the cavalry review next week?’ he asked, aghast to hear the words coming out of his own mouth.
    â€˜No, we are not asked. I believe Lady Geraldine has been invited to the banquet afterwards, so I could not go with her.’ She sounded regretful, despite her smile. ‘And in any case, it is at Ninove, is it not? That is miles away.’
    There, she had handed him the opportunity to negate that reckless enquiry. All he had to do was agree that it was a pity she would not be there. With an escape route clear before him, Hal promptly dug himself in deeper. ‘I have an acquaintance, an older gentleman native to Brussels, who will be driving there in his barouche. He would be de lighted to take you and Mrs Tresilian and young Phillip along with him. I know he was planning a picnic. He is most respectable—not at all like me.’
    â€˜Then how do you know him?’ she asked wickedly, making him laugh.
    He comes regularly to the Literary Institute.’ In fact the Baron vander Helvig came solely for the high-stakes card play, but other than that, he was a respectable and sober widower in his sixties. He was wealthy, sociable and amiable, and Hal had conceived the plan of asking him to keep an eye on the Tresilian house hold when the situation with Bonaparte came to a head. They might need to leave Brussels in a hurry, and the baron had a large stable.
    The review would be an admirable opportunity to introduce Mrs Tresilian to him, and the baron was enough in Hal’s debt—quite literally—to be obliging, although he suspected that the sociable Belgian would agree anyway. He tried to tell himself that this was his reason for persuading Julia to come to the review. It was not, he knew perfectly well. His newly awakened conscience was pointing out to him that he wanted to parade in front of her in his uniform, on his bighorse, at the head of his men, to prove himself worthy in his profession, if nothing else. Cock scomb, he told himself.
    â€˜Mama would not wish to impose upon him,’ Julia said doubt fully.
    â€˜He would enjoy it. He’s a sociable man, but rather lonely since his wife died, I suspect. And he was going in any case.’
    â€˜You must not tell him you have mentioned it to me,’ Julia said. ‘If he thinks we know, then he will feel obligated.’
    â€˜Very well. I will be tact itself,’ Hal assured her, opening the door. ‘Now, I had better find you a cab.’
    They stood under the portico, surveying the street. ‘There’s one.’ Hal took a step forward and then backed into the shadow. ‘And here comes the Reverend Mr Smyth. I think I will make myself scarce, before I am the cause of you losing yet another of your worthy suitors, Julia.’ He allowed himself the indulgence of