Free Captain Ingram's Inheritance by Carola Dunn

irresistible.
     Crossing to the door, he opened it a crack to let in the sound of the spinet. She--it must be she--was playing a slow, dreamy air on the soft-toned instrument.
     He went to the looking-glass to tie his cravat and brush his hair. It was longer than he had worn it in the army, but not too long for a fashionable gentleman. For the first time since Quatre Bras, he deliberately studied his face, by the gloomy light from the window. The sun-brown of his once active outdoor life had faded to a sickly pallor, and sharp cheekbones stood out above hollow cheeks. No wonder Lady Constantia had been hard pressed to hide her dismay on first seeing him, yet there was no mark on his face to hint at...
     Forget it! he told himself sharply. This is at best a short interlude. Enjoy her company while you may.
     As he put on his coat, he noticed that even that was suffused with the herbal smell of Miriam’s unguents. At least he had persuaded her to change from the rose essence she’d originally used for the lotions and ointments he had to rub in twice daily, before his exercises. Sniffing, he hoped the odour was not offensive to a lady’s delicate nostrils. Lady Constantia had not recoiled when she rushed to support him for that all too brief moment.
     With one last glance at the mirror, he went out into the gallery. The spinet had been set up on a stand at the far end. Bowed over her music, Lady Constantia’s head gleamed pure gold by the light of a branch of candles. Her slender hands plucked a plaintive melody from the ivory keys.
     A sudden vision overwhelmed Frank: a winter’s evening; himself seated by a cheerful fire, a child on his knee; Constantia’s golden head bowed over her music....
     Savagely he cursed his imagination. Rich or poor, duke’s grandson or insignificant soldier, he was not for her. She deserved a husband whose appearance would not drive her to hysterics on her wedding night. He must think of her as the sister she would become if Fanny married Roworth. What man could complain with two such sisters?
     Looking up with a smile as the captain approached along the gallery, Constantia caught a fleeting melancholy on his face. The shadow vanished as he answered her smile. At once she was reassured that the bond of friendly sympathy between them was not a mere fancy on her part. So quickly formed, it had seemed too good to be true.
     His pace slow but steady, he held himself with a military uprightness no debility could disguise. She started to play Handel’s See the conquering hero come , and he laughed.
      “I recognize that,” he said. “Mama used to sing it whenever my father returned to whatever quarters we happened to call home at any moment. Play some more.”
     “The spinet is a little out of tune, I fear. Vickie uses it to practise on. I hope you will soon be able to come to the drawing-room to hear the pianoforte.”
     “Very soon. I feel the effect of your nurse’s favourite remedy already.”
     “The milk-and-stout? Oh, splendid!”
     Whether that peculiar concoction was responsible; or his willingness to oblige her by devouring the meals and snacks she pressed upon him; or the easy access to the gallery for exercise; or the sunshine that succeeded the rain and made possible strolls and idle lounging out on the terrace; whatever the cause, Captain Ingram’s health improved visibly over the next two days. With delight, Constantia watched his wan face begin to fill out and take on colour, his steps grow firmer and swifter.
     He still tired easily, breakfasted in bed and retired thither before dinner, but the moment came when she could no longer postpone presenting him to her parents. Their guests left, and the countess was becoming curious about the invalid who occupied so much of her daughter’s time.
     Felix ought to have performed the introductions, but Felix was always out riding, or fishing, or searching for a mount for his sisters or himself. Doubtless for that