The Brigadier's Daughter. Catherine March
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than a strong and capable woman who could take care of herself, the home and the children while her soldier husband was away winning his medals.
At the end of the waltz they parted company, and Sasha wondered, as he coolly bid her adieu, whether he would return for the second. To her surprise and pleasure, he did, and firmly took the lead, moving her slender body about the ballroom with infinite ease and confidence. He made no move to open conversation, so politely she enquired if he was looking forward to his posting to St Petersburg, and from there they enjoyed a dialogue about Russia.
‘I must confess, Miss Packard,’ murmured Captain Bowen, above her ear, ‘that I have not enjoyed a dance quite so much this evening, as I have with you. Not only are you an exquisite dancer, but very interesting to talk to.’
‘Thank you.’
They continued the dance until its end—all too soon, Sasha thought—and then he walked with her back to where her father and her sisters sat. He did not depart at once, but lingered to converse with her father on the Army and the possibility of Russian lessons.
In the dark, early hours of morning the clop-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of carriage wheels roused Lady Packard as she lay dozing, waiting for the return of her family to their home in Roseberry Street. She stirred and reached to turn up the wick on the glass-shaded lamp beside the bed. Beyond her bedroom she could hear footsteps and the bang of a door, and her husband’s deep voice as he admonished his daughters to be quiet. She sat up and plumped her pillows, checked her braided hair and turned her face eagerly to the door. A few moments later it opened, and the Brigadier stepped in, tossing aside his white gloves and bow tie as he walked with soundless footsteps across the carpet.
‘Did the girls have a wonderful evening?’ she asked in her soft, husky voice, even after all these years still influenced by her native Russian accent.
‘My dear—’ Conrad turned to face his wife, as he shrugged off his jacket ‘—you did not have to wait up.’ He spoke gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed and gazing at her.
Olga held out her arms to him, and with a contented sigh he pulled her into an embrace, affectionate and yet restrained, mindful of her delicate health. He kissed the side of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and stroking back tendrils of dark hair from her temple. ‘How are you, my love?’
‘I am well,’ she replied gently. ‘I have missed you.’
‘You should have come with us. The Westfalings were asking after you, as well as Percy, and many others.’
Tears glowed in her eyes, her turbulent emotions easily aroused, ‘Next time, I promise. Soon I will be feeling much stronger. Did Georgia behave?’
‘No.’ Conrad could not help but laugh, his annoyance tempered by admiration for his daughter’s passionate, if stubborn and wayward, nature. He sat back and pulled off his shoes and stockings, undressing swiftly and then climbing into bed with his wife, a sigh escaping from his throat as he lay back. ‘I am getting too old for all of this nonsense.’ He turned his head on the pillow and gazed at his wife. ‘What a pair we are! It’s high time these girls of ours were married off. Their husbands can run around after them and we can enjoy a little time to ourselves.’ He mused for a moment, a vision of rusticating at their country manor in Shropshire taking hold in his mind, hopeful that the country air and quiet life would help improve Olga’s strength. ‘I think Georgia may have acquired a beau this evening, though not the one she would no doubt prefer. Percy introduced his nephew, a Captain Reid Bowen. I found him most personable and highly suitable, more than capable enough of keeping Georgia in line. However, he’s off to St Petersburg in the spring, on a posting to the Embassy as military attaché.’
‘Oh, Conrad, how wonderful.’ Olga turned to lie against him, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘Tell me more! Just think, one of our girls married to an officer.’
‘Steady on now, my love, they’ve only just met. Though he did ask my permission to call, and I have invited him for dinner on Christmas Eve. I hope that will not be inconvenient.’ He looked down at her with raised brows.
Olga shook her head. ‘We were short of one gentleman, so it will be perfect. But what of my Sasha? Did anyone dance with my Sasha?’
‘Only Captain Bowen, but as always she kept close to my side and seemed unable to overcome her shyness. I fear she does rather live in Georgia’s shadow.’
In her bedroom Sasha kicked off her slippers and padded barefoot to stand before the dressing table, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Slowly she raised her hands and removed the pins from her hair, avoiding her own eyes and her flushed cheeks, hesitating as Georgia called from the adjoining bedchamber. She leaned a little closer then, bravely daring to look at her own face…How strange, she thought, she looked exactly the same, but she did not feel the same…not since Captain Reid Bowen had held her in his arms and waltzed her around the ballroom…
‘Oh, Sasha, darling, do hurry, I can’t wait to get this corset off!’ cried an indignant Georgia.
‘I’m coming.’ Sasha turned away from the mirror and hurried to her sister’s assistance.
‘I don’t know why Polly can’t stay up.’
‘It’s two o’clock in the morning,’ Sasha replied, nimbly dealing with the ribbons of Georgia’s corset. ‘It would be unkind to keep Polly awake all night just to unlace us, when we can very well do it for ourselves.’
Georgia scowled and muttered and then stepped out of the pool of her discarded gown, turning to do the same for Sasha. When at last freed from the constriction of their ball gowns and corsets, they laid them out on a chaise longue beside the wardrobe, for Polly to put away in the morning. Georgia flung herself down on her bed and began to brush out her long butter-blonde hair, her sapphire eyes glowing as she exclaimed, ‘Was it not a wonderful evening?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Felix is the most wonderful dancer, and he makes me laugh. I absolutely adore him!’
Sasha sat down and laid cool fingers on her sister’s wrist. ‘Don’t, Georgia, please don’t. You know Papa will never allow a match between the two of you.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘You know very well why not. Felix was embroiled in that horrible scandal with the, er, enceinte governess.’
‘He swears that was nothing of his doing. She was lying through her teeth just to snare him!’
‘And he refused a commission into the Army, preferring to stay at home with his mama. In Father’s eyes that makes him well and truly damned.’
Georgia rose from the bed and flounced away, moving to the far side and drawing back her bedcovers. ‘Felix cannot help it if he has an aversion to killing people, and being sent abroad to God-forsaken places for years on end.’
Sasha suspected that Georgia was quoting Felix and not her own opinion. ‘Papa says he lacks discipline and is a coward.’
‘I am going to sleep,’ said Georgia firmly, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up over her shoulders. ‘Goodnight.’
With a sigh Sasha rose and murmured, ‘Goodnight, sweet dreams.’
Georgia grunted, and Sasha knew better than to pursue the matter further. Once Georgia had made her mind up about something, she could be very stubborn indeed. Sasha went to her own bedchamber and closed the connecting door, slipping beneath the heavy covers of her canopied bed and lying awake in the darkened room for some while. Her thoughts wandered back to the first waltz she had danced with Captain Bowen. Sasha squirmed, hugging a pillow in both hands as she remembered the embarrassing moment when he had pointed out she had cream on her face. She rolled over in the expanse of her bed, trying to convince herself the moment was best forgotten. In the grand scheme of things, as he had pointed out, it was of no importance. She remembered the feel of his broad, solid body as he guided her through the maze of other dancing couples, very sure and certain