The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride. Anne Herries
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it with more food. I shall tell Aunt Minnie I am going foraging for herbs and roots—and I shall do so, but first I will bring the things you need.’
‘Thank you, Sister,’ John said and smiled at her. ‘I’d heard you were here. I am glad to find you well.’
‘Have you been home?’
‘I know Father is dead. I told the King I would rather be free to fight with the prince than be cooped up in the castle. Lord Carlton will continue to hold it for us—and you should return home, Babette. I shall visit you there and bring Alice to you.’
‘Alice...your wife?’
John’s face relaxed into a smile that softened his features. ‘My Alice is with child. She begged me to keep her with me, and I did at the start, but now she is six months gone and cannot travel fast. I have sent her to the castle for her own safety—but you must promise me to join her. You will, won’t you, Babs?’
Babette thought regretfully of her aunt’s warm kitchen and her kindness, but her duty was clear.
‘Yes, of course, I shall now that I know you are alive and that you have a wife who needs me. I shall tell Aunt Minnie tomorrow, but it may be a few days before I can leave. Uncle Matthew may not be able to spare anyone to bring me home because of the harvest. I should need to travel with just Jonas as my escort.’
‘Once your rebels have gone, I shall come to the house and fetch you,’ John said. ‘I must go now, for Drew needs my help. Be careful, Babs—and tell no one that you’ve seen me while the rebels are in the house.’
‘No, of course not. God be with you, Brother.’
Babette had given him all the food she’d brought. She stood watching as he melted away into the shadows. Then she turned and started to walk back to the house. As she approached the kitchen door, a shadow moved towards her, making her jump.
‘Did I startle you, mistress?’
Captain Colby’s voice was somehow reassuring, though her heart beat wildly. Somehow she would rather it was he than one of his men—but what had he seen? What did he know?
‘Good even’, sir. I thought you with my uncle in the parlour?’
‘He had some business with one of his tenants—and I came out for a little air.’
‘As I did,’ Babette said and tried to pass him, but his hand shot out, imprisoning her wrist. His fingers seemed to hold her lightly, but in a grip she could not break and her heart was beating like a drum. ‘I pray you, let me go, sir. I would go in...’
‘Who were you speaking with just now?’ She could hear the suspicion in his tone and feared that he had seen too much.
Babette’s heart was racing. John had warned her to tell no one that she’d seen him and she certainly would not tell this man the truth. John had a friend he called Drew and his friend had been injured in a fight with the rebels, four of his friends already dead. The Parliament men were her enemies and she had no wish to speak with this man. Yet if she denied speaking with someone he would know she was lying and think the worst.
Lifting her head, she looked him in the eyes. ‘I do not see it is your business, sir—but I was meeting a friend, a man I care for.’
‘Ah, your lover...’ Captain Colby’s eyes narrowed, and she thought he looked angry. ‘Does your aunt know that you sneak out late at night to seek your lover? No? I thought not. Your uncle would not care for it, I think. He is a strict man and might forbid you his house.’
‘I intend to return home soon,’ Babette said, stung to anger. He would think her immodest now and for some reason that hurt and shamed her, but to tell him the truth would cause trouble for her brother and his friend.
‘You might have no choice if your uncle had caught you.’
‘As I said, it is none of your affair. I am naught to you, sir.’
‘No, but you might have been. I had it in mind to ask your uncle for you in marriage...but I do not care for tainted goods.’ There was a note of anger or perhaps disappointment in his voice as he suddenly let her go and swung away from her.
Babette caught her breath as he left her standing there. How dare he say such a thing! He was impertinent, arrogant. She would never have agreed to such a match. How could he even think it? Besides, her hand was not in her uncle’s giving, though of course her uncle might claim he had as much right as the guardian appointed by the King. Neither he nor this impossible man knew that her brother lived.
Her brother lived. Warmth soothed away the anger as she dwelled on the happy news that John was alive and here in England, fighting with the King’s troops. She smiled as she went back into the house, lit another candle and carried it upstairs to her chamber.
This time she drew her curtains and undressed, feeling ready for bed. Even though she soon drifted into sleep her rest was disturbed by strange dreams. However, when she woke they melted with the sunshine of another day.
* * *
Meanwhile, James walked on into the darkness, needing as he so often did the solitude that night provided. His thoughts were tormented, for though he could forget his grief for a time, losing himself in duty, when his work was done his thoughts turned always to the woman he’d loved so dearly.
His grief had lived with him for months, yet as he walked alone and looked at the stars, he could not banish the expression in the young woman’s eyes when he’d accosted her. She was startled, almost guilty. He’d accused her of having a lover. She had not completely denied it, though seemed outraged at the suggestion.
Why had he told her that it had been in his mind to ask her uncle for her? Had he wanted to punish her for being less than he’d thought her at the start? What had made him strike out like that?
Was she a girl of low morals? Despite finding her in such a compromising position, he did not believe her immodest.
Then why had she been outside and why did she not wish to speak of her reasons for being there? Was she meeting someone who would not wish to be seen by him?
Had she met a Royalist? In secret so that her uncle should not know?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, for it would make her a traitor in his eyes...and yet, perversely, he did not wish to lose his good opinion of her. For some obscure reason, he would prefer that she had Royalist friends rather than her having been in the arms of a lover.
What was it to him what the girl did? James swore beneath his breath. She was but a chance acquaintance, someone he would never meet again. If he wished to wed, surely any gentle, obliging woman would serve his needs?
He had not looked at a woman and thought of marriage once in the months since Jane died. Why now? What was it about this woman that had made him suddenly stir to anger because she was willing to give herself so carelessly?
Damn him for a fool! He cared not what she had been doing. No woman could ever touch his heart again...and yet he would prefer to keep his good opinion of Miss Babette.
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