River Of Fire (37 page)

"Why, no." Jack paced across the room. "At least, not estate trouble. In that area, everything is going well."

"Then why do you look ready to jump out of your skin?"

Jack rubbed his crippled left arm, as if massaging phantom pains. "I… I've come to ask permission to marry Bern."

"When the time comes I'll be happy to give you my blessing," Kenneth said, surprised. "But when you wrote me about your intentions, you said it was too soon, and I agreed. You haven't known each other long, and the future of Sutterton is still undecided."

"I'm afraid we can't wait." Jack swallowed hard. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that we
didn't
wait."

The silence "was thunderous. Then Kenneth asked in a dangerous voice, "Are you saying Beth is with child?"

Looking miserable but resolute, the younger man said, "We think so." He met Kenneth's gaze steadily. "I'm sorry, sir. You must want to call me out, and you have every right to. It… it only happened once, and was certainly unintended, but that doesn't excuse me." His mouth twisted. "You saved my life, and I repay you by seducing your sister. All I can do is say that I love Beth from the bottom of my soul. I swear that she will always be loved and cared for, even if Sutterton is sold and I must find a situation elsewhere."

The first rush of Kenneth's brotherly anger was quickly followed by recognition of the irony. He could hardly take the moral high ground when there was a chance that he and Rebecca might also make a hasty trip to the altar. Heaven knew that he understood how years in the masculine maelstrom of war could make a man crave the healing warmth of a woman's arms to the point where desire overcame sense.

After taking a deep breath, he said, "It isn't what I would have chosen, but I suppose there is no harm done. I suspect that the seduction was mutual. Beth has a mind of her own."

Jack's wry smile showed that Kenneth had hit the mark. Beth and Rebecca obviously had certain similarities, though Kenneth doubted that his sister was as wonderfully brazen as Rebecca. After a brief, dizzy memory of his Lilith shaking her flaming hair provocatively over her naked shoulders, he said, "Shall we return to the drawing room and break the news to the ladies?"

Looking enormously relieved, Jack said, "You're taking this very well, sir. Better than I deserve."

"You and I have both seen our share of the world's misery. The impetuousness of love is a minor problem by comparison." Kenneth gave the younger man a stern glance. "But for God's sake, stop calling me sir!"

Jack smiled sheepishly. "Under the circumstances, using your Christian name seemed like insult after injury."

"Since we're going to be brothers-in-law, you'd better go back to calling me Kenneth." As they went to the door, he asked, "What would you have done if I'd refused permission?"

"Married her anyhow. Beth is of age." Jack held the door open for Kenneth. "But neither of us wanted to start our life together by becoming estranged from you."

A good, practical point of view. As they retraced their steps to the drawing room, Kenneth found that his pleasure in his sister's marriage outweighed the inconvenient timing. Beth and Jack both had steady dispositions, and they seemed deeply in love. He only hoped that he would soon be able to provide his sister with the dowry to which she was entitled. He did not want to see the young couple forced to live hand-to-mouth, especially with a baby on the way.

They entered the drawing room. Kenneth said to his sister with a smile, "Jack has asked for your hand, and I intend to see the two of you spliced before he discovers what an imp you are. Since we're both here in London, how about marrying by special license within the next few days?"

"Oh, Kenneth!" Beaming with relief, Beth hurled herself into his arms. "You are the best of brothers."

"I'm not, you know. Jack will take much better care of you than I did." He hugged her back, his mind busy with ideas for making her wedding memorable despite the haste and his lack of money. It was time to ask for a favor or two.

Releasing his sister, he said, "Michael and Catherine Kenyon are staying at Ashburton House, and he has mentioned several times how large and empty the place is. I think they would be happy to have you both as guests for a few days."

"If they are willing, it would be far more convenient than staying in an inn," Jack said with a pleased smile.

Rebecca said hesitantly, "Of course you scarcely know me, Beth, but if you don't have a friend in London who can stand up with you, I would be honored to do so."

Beth instantly accepted the offer. As wedding planning began, Kenneth sent a note to see if Michael and Catherine would take two guests. Michael replied within the hour, saying that any officer of the 95th and any sister of Kenneth's would always be welcome under their roof. The note was delivered by a handsome carriage that awaited the orders of the expected guests.

Somewhere in the midst of the bustle, the tension that had been between him and Rebecca evaporated. There was another kind of tension that came when he speculated about what kind of bride she would make. As he watched Beth and Jack climb into the carriage, he wondered wryly if weddings were contagious.

The next day, George Hampton came by with a trial engraving of Sir Anthony's third Waterloo picture. The two men had a noisy discussion before agreeing on several areas that needed work. Sir Anthony returned to his studio and Hampton was preparing to leave when Kenneth approached him. "I'd like to talk to you sometime, sir. When would be convenient?"

"I have a few minutes now." Hampton clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "By the way, congratulations. I think you and Rebecca will suit each other very well." He chuckled. "I was amused to learn I had been ordering a viscount around, but I expect I would have done so even if I had known."

Feeling more nervous than when waiting for a French cavalry charge, Kenneth said, "I… I have something to show you."

He led the way to the office and produced a portfolio containing a dozen drawings he had selected from his Peninsular work. Hampton's bushy brows shot upward when he saw the picture of the mortally wounded soldier that had so affected Rebecca.

The engraver studied it for a long time, then wordlessly flipped through the other sketches. When he was done, he glanced up, his gaze keen. "Where did you get these?"

Knowing he was taking a significant step, Kenneth took a deep breath. "I drew them."

"Really! I had no idea you were an artist."

"I have drawn my whole life," he said simply.

"Have you shown Anthony your work?"

"There was no reason for him to see it. However, Rebecca thinks the drawings have merit."

"She's quite right. You and she will suit each other even better than I realized." Hampton closed the portfolio and laid one hand on the leather cover. "Would you allow me to make engravings of these? Even though the war is over, there is still considerable interest in military subjects."

"I was hoping you would want to." Kenneth hesitated, trying to find the right words to make it clear that he was interested in money as well as the honor of having his work published. "Though I've kept Sir Anthony's accounts, I have no idea what the financial arrangements should be for pictures by an unknown."

"Mmm, a good question." Brow furrowed, Hampton produced and lit a cigar. "I suppose I should exploit your ignorance and offer you ten pounds for the lot, take it or leave it. But that would be a shabby way to treat my goddaughter's future husband."

Quashing his guilt about the falseness of the betrothal, Kenneth said, "Actually, I've heard that you are notoriously generous to the artists whose work you use."

"Merely good business. Ensures that I get first choice of the best work," Hampton said, scowling as if he had been accused of theft. "You have a distinctive style. What is the best way to take advantage of that?" He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Perhaps a series called something like 'An Officer's Views of the Late War.' We could issue most of the engravings individually, then put out a book with new ones added. That way people would have to buy the book to get the other pictures."

A series. A book. Trying to control his excitement, Kenneth said, "You'll need more pictures. What kind?"

The engraver blew out a thin trickle of smoke. "Certainly more battle pictures—as many of the major engagements as possible. And views of the people and towns and landscapes as well as military subjects. Can you do that?"

"I was at almost every significant battle, and I have a good memory for details." Too good, Kenneth had often thought, but it seemed that ability would now be valuable. He liked the idea of a series. His first attempts to release his darkest memories on paper had given him a desire to do more. After he had chronicled his personal war, perhaps he would finally be free of it.

More smoke rose as Hampton considered. "How about two hundred pounds advanced against a percentage of total sales? If I'm right—and I usually am— over the next few years you could earn a nice little income from this project."

It was far more than Kenneth had hoped, enough for a decent wedding gift for Beth and Jack. "Done. And thank you." He offered his hand.

"We shall do well for each other, Kimball." After shaking hands, the engraver got to his feet and tucked the portfolio under his arm. "Make me a list of the scenes you want to do. I'll draw up a contract and send a draft for the two hundred pounds." He surveyed Kenneth's broad frame, a smile lurking in his eyes. "You don't look like an artist, but then, neither do I. So much for appearances." He donned his hat and left.

Dazed with excitement, Kenneth wandered from the office, not thinking about where he was going until he found himself knocking on the door of Rebecca's studio. Of course he had come here. Who else would understand what Hampton's offer meant to him?

Rebecca called permission to enter and he went inside. She glanced up from her easel. "You look like a cat who has dined well on fresh canary."

He laughed. "I've just gone from amateur to professional. George Hampton is giving me two hundred pounds to engrave a series of my sketches. It will be a chronicle of the war, with perhaps a book coming from it later."

"That's wonderful!" She set down her palette and came toward him, hazel eyes glowing like new-minted gold coins. "But no more than you deserve."

She was irresistible in her generous pleasure. He swooped her up in his arms and whirled her around exuberantly.

She laughed, her head barely missing the slanted ceiling. "You're a lunatic, Captain."

"But a happy one." She was like a flame in his arms, vividly alive. When he stopped spinning, he found that he could not let her go. He lowered her back to the floor slowly, her body sliding along his. Soft. Feminine. Erotic.

The few days since they had made love seemed like an eternity. He bent his head and kissed her. Her arms tightened around him and her lips clung, sweet as the first strawberries of spring.

He was on the verge of carrying her to the sofa when a wisp of sense intruded. Reluctantly he ended the kiss. "I keep forgetting that we're not supposed to do that."

"So do I," she said unevenly as she detached herself from his embrace. Her lips had a ripe, just-kissed fullness.

Trying to regain his control, he glanced around the familiar studio. It was so thoroughly Rebecca. He'd missed it. "Hampton approves of our betrothal. I wince whenever someone congratulates me. They all seem so happy about the prospect."

"Probably because it was assumed that I was a hopeless spinster," she said with light self-mockery. "You are much admired for your courage in taking me on."

"Rebecca," he said quietly. When she looked at him, he continued, "If a jewel is concealed in the attic, the world has no chance to appreciate it. I think I am envied for being the lucky man who discovered a hidden treasure."

A shimmer of what almost seemed like pain showed in her eyes. "What a lovely romantic thing to say. Utter nonsense, of course, but lovely." She drifted toward her easel. "This is definitely your lucky day. I've learned there will be no baby."

Surging relief was tempered by a surprising pang of regret. A small part of him that was all feeling and no sense would have welcomed a situation in which marriage was the only choice.

But not a marriage where he risked having Rebecca despise him if he learned something that harmed her father. Schooling his face, he said, "About the sitting this afternoon. The usual time?"

Not looking at him, she lifted a brush and drew the point across her palm experimentally. "Usual time."

He left, wondering if the day would ever come when he could speak freely to her. Even more, he wondered what he would say if that happened—and how she would respond.