Free Since the Surrender by Julie Anne Long Page B

friend of Lady d’Aligny.”
    “I’ll tell Rosalind to curtail her visits and impress upon her the reasons for it. She’ll be…greatly disappointed.” The colonel hated to disappoint Rosalind. “But she’s a sensible girl.”
    It wasn’t the first word Chase would have chosen to describe Rosalind. But the colonel didn’t see his wife as clearly as he saw her.
    Or perhaps he saw her only precisely as he wanted to see her. So instead he’d considered it his duty to watch Rosalind, though he had scarcely spoken to her in weeks.
    Two days later he’d just made an early departure from a meeting with the colonel and two other officers, Kinkade included, when he saw her hurrying through the foyer of their house so quickly her dress sailed out behind her. She glanced furtively about the foyer before ducking into the narrow passageway leading to the kitchen, which opened up onto the servants’ entrance.
    Chase instantly recognized she meant to surreptitiously leave the house.
    In her hand she clutched a half-crumpled sheet of foolscap. In two strides he was within a few feet of her. “Good day, Mrs. March. Where are you going?”
    She visibly started. Halted in her tracks.
    And then her shoulder went back stiffly in resignation. She turned very slowly. Her eyes flared hotly when they met his. His question had been very direct.
    But then, he was generally very direct, as she knew.
    “You seem to be everywhere, Captain Eversea. And yet we speak very rarely these days, don’t we?”
    Impressive gambit, indeed. An attempt to put him on the defensive.
    “Are you reluctant to answer my question, Mrs. March?”
    A hesitation. He could sense the tick of her thoughts.
    “Is my destination truly any of your business, Captain Eversea?”
    She’d tried for imperiousness. She was the wife of his commanding officer, after all.
    But he just smiled a slow, grim, entirely comprehending smile that soon had her fidgeting nervously with the sheet of foolscap in her hand. She was clever but young, and doubtless inexperienced when it came to lying, simply because it didn’t come naturally to her. Otherwise she would have known her evasiveness was tantamount to confession.
    to confession.
    “It most certainly is my business if you intend to visit with Lady d’Aligny after the colonel has requested you not to do it.”
    She went visibly still. To her credit, she didn’t deny a thing, or lie about where she intended to go. But he saw a wounded flicker in her eyes. The message rustled; her hand was shaking. Somewhere out in the garden a bird gave voice to a series of trills.
    “But she’s my friend.” She’d tried to measure out the words evenly. But he’d heard the pain in her voice, and his fingers curled involuntarily into a fist. She held up the message, as though displaying evidence of friendship. “She invited me for tea. She misses my company, she says, and I miss hers, and it’s been but three days since I’ve seen her. Surely just for tea…” Something approaching stubborn defiance began to harden her lovely features. “Surely there could be no harm in tea, Captain Ever…”
    She trailed off at the cold, implacable expression on his face.
    “She’s not your friend, Mrs. March. She’s using you. This is war. The colonel doubtless has made his wishes known to you with regards to the Lady d’Aligny. Don’t be a child.”
    He’d said it firmly. But gently, gently, too. As though the message she held was a loaded and aimed pistol and he was attempting to talk her into lowering it.
    She dropped her eyes to the message quickly, her fine brows diving. Trying to disguise her hurt and disappointment and confusion.
    He’d seen all of it, anyway.
    And in that instant he felt her hurt so acutely it might well have been his own.
    And, absurdly, that was when he became truly furious at the d’Alignys.
    And what kind of soldier did this make him when suddenly the welfare of Mrs. March meant more to him than the d’Aligny