Free Portrait of My Heart by Patricia Cabot Page A

on him, and quickly paced a few yards through the straw. “I’m best at fencing, but I can shoot, as well. Also, I’m good on a horse.”
    “Right,” Edward said slowly. “And those are admirable qualities. But—”
    Jeremy stopped pacing a few feet away from the door to King’s stall. Edward saw his shoulders go back, and his head come up. “That’s it,” Jeremy said, apparently to his horse, since his back was to his uncle. “I shall go into the cavalry.”
    It was a statement, not a question. Edward said, “Well, now, let’s see if we can examine—”
    “There’s nothing to examine,” Jeremy interrupted matter-of-factly. He turned to face his uncle. “I need an occupation. The army’s as good as any. It isn’t possible to purchase commissions anymore, so I shall have to earn the rank of officer. That’s just as well. It’s more impressive to earn something than to buy it.”
    Edward began to experience a growing sense of unease. “Yes, but Jeremy, the army is really more for, er, second sons, young men who don’t expect to inherit a title or property and don’t care to go into the church. Dukes generally don’t—”
    “I shall join the Horse Guards,” Jeremy said. Edward wasn’t certain if he hadn’t heard him, or was simply ignoring him. Jeremy began pacing again, excitedly this time. “I shall ask to be stationed in India. That’s the most dangerous place we have armies stationed right now, isn’t it? Too bad there
isn’t a war on. I should have quite liked a war. Well, perhaps I can start one.” He headed, without another word, for the stable doors.
    “Jeremy,” Edward called after him.
    Jeremy turned, as if surprised his uncle was still there. “Yes?”
    “You aren’t—you aren’t serious, are you?” Edward cleared his throat. “You can’t really mean that you intend to join Her Majesty’s army, can you?”
    “Well, Uncle,” Jeremy said with a grin. “I’m a duke, am I not? I can do anything I like.”

Chapter 6

    “What?” Pegeen cried, nearly dropping the silver-backed hairbrush she held.
    “The cavalry,” Edward said. He sat on the edge of their bed, a few feet away from his wife’s dressing table, his elbows on his knees. His expression was one of abject misery. “At least, that’s what he said.”
    “But Edward …” Pegeen stood up, the hairbrush hanging limply from her fingers. “But Edward, the army ? He told you he’s joining the army ?”
    “The cavalry,” Edward said again. He watched helplessly as his wife, whom he’d interrupted while she was dressing for dinner, began to pace the length of their bedroom, wearing only a camisole and a new pair of French-cut pantaloons. In her hands, she clutched the hairbrush, as if it were some kind of link to the orderly existence she’d led up until he’d come in, a few moments ago, and delivered this unexpected piece of news.
    “The cavalry?” Pegeen’s husky voice rose, a note of panic creeping into it. “The cavalry? My God, Edward, he’ll be killed. He won’t last a minute in the cavalry. He’s much too sensitive—”
    Edward wondered if he ought to reveal to his wife the fact that her sensitive nephew had, in fact, fatally wounded a man in a duel just the day before. He thought perhaps he’d wait until she calmed down a little before doing so, however.
    “What’s a boy like Jerry going to do in the cavalry?”
she demanded, storming past the bed and then doing an about-face, her long, dark hair swinging out behind her in a smooth arc, before storming off in the opposite direction. “He’ll be shot the first day—”
    “He won’t be shot,” Edward said. “The Horse Guards employ swords, not pistols.”
    “It doesn’t matter what kind of weapon he employs. He won’t be able to defend himself,” Pegeen cried. “He can’t even bring himself to shoot a pheasant. He’ll never actually be able to kill a live person!”
    “Well,” Edward said, slowly. “Actually—”
    “And