Catherine Tinley - The Captain's Disgraced Lady

The worst thing was, she admitted, Captain Fanton was right in a way. She had been so anxious to travel on tonight, she had failed to notice that her mother was still feeling ill. She had selfishly tried to push forward with her plans, without checking on Mama’s health.

Yet, she remembered, her mother had seemed recovered as they left the parlour. She had enjoyed her tea, topped up with hot water, and had eaten two pastries with some enthusiasm. Had Mother really been hiding her illness? Or had she genuinely taken a relapse in the taproom?

Captain Fanton had looked at her with such contempt. He clearly believed her to be insensitive to her mother’s needs. The fact that he had overheard her tirade didn’t help. But if the man went around interfering in other people’s business, then he should expect consequences from time to time.

Anger warred with guilt, both emotions swirling around inside her, making it difficult to think straight. The thought of sharing a dining table with him tonight filled her with dread. Yet Mama had set her heart on it—trying to compensate for Juliana’s earlier rudeness. It was, she admitted, entirely her own fault.

The fact that Captain Fanton was one of the most attractive men she’d come across had not gone unnoticed. Something about his handsome features, knowing grin and lithe body was making her heart race and her stomach flip. Behave! she told her disobedient body.

Dinner would undoubtedly be difficult. But she was ready for the challenge.

* * *

‘Are you feeling quite recovered, Mrs Milford?’

‘Indeed I am, Captain Fanton, and I confess I am feeling a little silly for making such a fuss. Thank you for your concern, and to you, Lieutenant, for fetching the doctor.’

Evans muttered something about it being no trouble. He was clearly ill at ease and nervous, though had managed to eat four courses with a hearty diligence. ‘Not accustomed to making the civil—all bachelors,’ he’d mumbled apologetically when Juliana’s first attempts to engage him in conversation had fallen flat. By this she’d understood he was uncomfortable in female company. Juliana felt quite sorry for him and set out to put him at ease.

She now knew most of his life story, his likes and dislikes in food and horses, and the fact that he was the only child of a lawyer and a seamstress. He had a perfectly respectable background, but confessed he was still much in awe of the gentry. He adored his commanding officer, Captain Fanton.

This, Juliana put down to Evans’s obvious naïveté. Of course he would be in awe of the suave Captain, whose responses to Mama’s questions had included Harrow and Cambridge, so he likely had an aristocratic background, like many army officers. Not that she was listening to their conversation. She was perfectly happy to converse with the amiable Lieutenant Evans.

However, for some reason, she did not want Mama to share too many details about herself—about their life. She had heard the Captain ask where they lived and Mama had described some details of their life in Brussels.

‘So, what brings you to England?’ he asked.

‘We are visiting friends,’ Juliana intervened quickly. ‘We will return to Brussels in the summer.’

‘As long as that monster, Napoleon, has been captured by then,’ added Mrs Milford. ‘When I heard of his escape from Elba, I declare it was the only thing that could have persuaded me to agree to Juliana’s scheme of visiting England.’

Captain Fanton raised an eyebrow, looking from one woman to the other. ‘Ah! So it is you, Miss Milford, who wanted this trip.’

‘It was, though Mama was in agreement.’ He threw her a sceptical glance, clearly unconvinced. Again, this cynicism!

‘Were you really in agreement, Mrs Milford? Or did your strong-willed daughter force you?’ He laughed lightly to take the sting out of his words, but Juliana knew they were sincerely meant. Mama, ever trusting, smiled in response.

Can’t she see, thought Juliana, that it is just empty charm? That he is saying it to attack me?

‘Juliana has always been strong-willed, ever since she could first speak and walk. It is her nature.’

Juliana squirmed. Speak of another subject! she thought.

‘Indeed.’ He threw a glance in Juliana’s direction, his eyes dancing. Unexpectedly, her heart skipped a little—she was unsure why. ‘I wish I could say you surprise me.’

‘But, in this instance, her will did not overpower mine,’ said Mrs Milford. ‘I agreed to come to England, though I wish to return home to Brussels as soon as we can.’

‘You do not think of England as home, then?’

She pondered this. ‘In a way. I grew up here, so it is a part of me. But I have lived in Brussels for over twenty years and Brussels is where I am comfortable.’

‘So...was your daughter born there?’

Juliana stiffened. Really, he was too inquisitive! She opened her mouth to cut off the direction of his questions, but, luckily, Mama herself changed the subject.

‘Yes, she was. But I must tell you, Captain, I am surprised to see you army officers here, when Wellington has made Brussels his headquarters. The army is encamped in the towns and villages around, for we had word of it in Brussels society.’

‘Indeed.’ His forehead creased. ‘We are sent to London on official business. We must, of course, follow orders, though it pains me to leave my friends and colleagues behind. We hope to rejoin them before long.’

‘Well, if you return to Brussels, you must call on us. I declare I should be pleased to see you both again.’

A strangled sound escaped from Juliana. She would certainly not be pleased to see him again! As she looked towards him, they locked eyes, an unholy gleam in his. He knew exactly what she was thinking and she was powerless to intervene—oh, how manipulative he was!

‘Thank you, Mrs Milford. If you give me your direction, I shall be sure to call.’

‘Juliana will write it down for you.’

‘Will she?’ He looked at Juliana, who dropped her gaze. ‘Actually, if you tell me now, I shall write it down myself. I would not put Miss Milford to the trouble.’

Juliana bit her lip. He had known she had planned to write the address down incorrectly and had outfoxed her.

She lifted her head to look at him again. His eyes were dancing with glee. Despite herself, she suddenly saw the humour in the situation and the corners of her mouth turned up. He looked startled.

‘So you do know how to smile then?’ His voice was low, as he leaned forward to talk to her, under cover of Mrs Milford’s conversation with the Lieutenant. His deep voice, so close, sent a shiver through her, though the room was warm.

‘Well, what a strange question! Of course I know how to smile. I just choose when to smile.’

‘That is a pity. Your smile is a powerful one.’ Juliana flushed, confused by his words and warm tone. She could not, in that moment, think of anything to say.

The Captain walked to the writing desk near the window, where he lifted paper and a sharpened pen, then wrote as Mrs Milford dictated their address. Juliana took the opportunity to study him.

She had already noted his height, strong figure and ease of movement. She knew him to be handsome—this she had acknowledged even as his arrogance had incensed her. Now, unobserved, she looked at his face in more detail.

A strong profile, straight nose, good jawline. His intense blue eyes were hidden, directed to the page, but she noticed he had surprisingly long lashes, which did not at all reduce the masculinity of his looks.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he suddenly looked up. Juliana glanced away immediately.

‘...shall retire. Thank you for a most enjoyable evening.’ Juliana, distracted by her observations of the Captain, suddenly focused on her mother again. Mama was standing, saying goodnight.