Free A Regency Charade by Elizabeth Mansfield Page B

don’t know. Perhaps sooner. I shall … send Mr. Newkirk to arrange it.” He threw her a brief glance. “I wish you good day, ma’am,” he said firmly and was gone.
    Priss stared blankly at the door he’d closed behind him. For a second or two she felt almost like laughing. This had not been a scene quite like the one she’d envisioned. Not quite. After six years of empty and agonized waiting, this … fizzle had been the result. She admitted to herself that she had not really believed the foolish imaginings of the night before would truly come to pass, but neither did she dream her reunion with her husband would turn out to be such an utter, hopeless failure !
    But she didn’t laugh. The waves of desolation that washed over her were not conducive to laughter. She would have liked to experience the blessed relief of a flood of tears, but they didn’t come either. She couldn’t seem to cry. The well seemed to have chosen the worst time to go dry at last. She couldn’t even bring herself to get out of the room. She could only stand there immobile and stare at the door, empty, benumbed, and as wretched as it was possible for anyone to be.

Chapter Six
    The Fenton Hotel, while considered a stylish address for tonnish visitors to London, was not the place for a war-weary, emotionally fatigued soldier to find solace and peace. It was noisy and overcrowded, full of bustling servants jostling each other in the corridors and arrogant guests constantly shouting for their attention. After one night under its roof, Alec decided he’d had quite enough of the place. The only balm which would soothe his jangled nerves, he decided, was the smell of country air. Braeburn was the place to be. Braeburn, where he could see his grandfather again. The sight of that beloved old face, the sound of the Earl’s voice, the down-to-earth practicality of his words—those more than anything else would bring ease to his troubled mind.
    Harry Kellam, the quick-witted, energetic little cockney who’d been his batman while he’d been abroad and who’d asked to remain in his service after the war, made a wry face when he learned of the Captain’s plan. “Queers me why ye’d want to go to the country, Cap’n. Nothin’s there but trees an’ ’ills,” he complained as he moved busily about Alec’s bedroom putting away his freshly laundered linen.
    “And what have you here in town that’s better?” Alec asked, knowing quite well that the answer would be outrageous.
    The batman grinned roguishly. “ You know, guv. Grog an’ bobbery an’ straw-’ats by the dozens.”
    Alec raised an amused eyebrow. “Girls, eh? By the dozens? I envy you, Kellam. Perhaps I shouldn’t drag you off. Drink and mischief you can probably find anywhere, but dozens of girls may not be so easy to come by in the country, even for a lover as gifted as yourself.”
    “Oh, I ain’t such a gifted lover ’s all that,” the batman demurred, patting his shaggy moustache with a modesty born of supreme self-confidence. “I on’y use a wheedle or two t’ turn ’em up sweet.”
    “Do you indeed?” Alec asked interestedly. “You wouldn’t care to share the secrets of your prowess, would you?”
    “Why not?” Kellam said generously. “All I do is t’ be free an’ easy wiv me brass and t’ carry on a bit … er … impudent wiv ’em, y’ might say.”
    Alec guffawed. “Well, when it comes to impudence, you’re the best of the lot. Is that really all it takes to win the ladies—a pocketful of brass and a good supply of impudence? I must remember that.”
    Kellam frowned at his Captain in disapproval. “’Oo said anythin’ about ladies ? Straw-’ats is one thing an’ ladies another. Besides, y’ already ’ as yer lady, if I might be so bold as t’ remind ye.”
    Alec’s grin faded and his expression grew remote. “You may not be so bold. May I remind you that my ‘lady’ as you call her, is not a subject for discussion? Now, if we may