Speak Its Name Read online

  The door opened and I stood pacing and stood at ease, with what I hoped was a not unattractive expression of interest on my face.

  “It’s all right, Chaloner,” said Heyward as the door closed behind him, “you don’t need waste the faux-lover on me.” He limped across the room and sat down, waving for me to do the same. Perching on the edge of my seat, I gave him attention. He was dressed in sombre colours as he had before, his only concession to dandyism were a few fobs; one holding a seal, and several others with stones the names of which I knew not. He was giving me the careful scrutiny I was affording him and neither of us, by the scowl which was adorning his features at least, was happy about it.

  “I think we can be blunt about matters, Chaloner,” he said at last. “You want to marry my cousin, and I think that all of England knows it by now. Correct?”

  Embarrassed at his frankness, I stood and moved back to the fireplace to give myself a moment to consider. When I turned again to face him, he was standing, also, his expression dark.

  I swallowed the irritation I was beginning to find normal in his presence, an irrational need to shake him like a terrier would a rat, and took a deep breath, affecting boredom. “Shall we then consider that we have already greeted each other like civilised men, Heyward. I have spoken, perhaps about the weather, the unseasonable chill and gloom of the season which should already be full of flowers and is not. You, I’m sure, have acquaintance in Bath and have relayed an amusing story of something that happened last season. We shall talk for awhile about horses, perhaps you’ll,” I looked scathingly at his infirmity, “ask me about the war, and I shall gloss modestly over any heroism I may have done. Eventually, over our second sherry,” I looked down at my empty hand and gave a look of mock surprise, “we might, with some delicacy, move to more tender subjects.”

  I thought he was going to explode, and for a moment I wondered if I had gone too far. That thought lasted no more than a second; for if he was already persuaded to take against me, it was better that we knew where we stood. I was no dissembler; I could not solicit his good regard if he was determined not to give it, but I was going to find out why or be expelled in the attempt of it.

  “For whatever reason you have for taking against me without making my acquaintance, Heyward, I wish you would explain it, for I am tired of being frowned at as if I were some French pirate.”

  He moved closer, and to my surprise his expression was mild, almost curious. I wondered how many times he had been in this position—for I was now certain it was the fact he thought I was no more than a trophy hunter, and from a certain perspective, I was—even if I had only just discovered that fact for myself.

  He was very close to me by the fireplace, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. He looked a little flushed as if he had been drinking, but there was no scent of it that I could discern. He reached out and I thought for a moment that he was going to touch me. At the idea of it, my heart leapt in surprise and I felt a strange and not unpleasant warmth in my loins, which shook me to the core. Immediately afterwards I had that sensation of violence again; there was nothing I wanted more but to hold him by the shoulders and shake him until he lost that smug expression. However he did not encourage me to manslaughter; all he did was to grasp the bell-pull, which I was blocking. A servant arrived, poured some Tokay and left. He raised his glass to me. “I think first blood then, goes to you.”

  “I have no quarrel with you, Heyward.”

  “Nor should you. But if you had a sister, would you not be as solicitous of her welfare?”

  “I should hope to be, but my father would probably stand in for me in that instance—your grandfather...”

  “... is easily persuadable,” he finished. All trace of the scowl had left his face and I noticed again how handsome he was. His face was long, and the curls of his fringe hung heavy over his wide forehead. His eyes were unsymmetrical but their imperfection gave him a great deal of character, and their expression seemed to change constantly; he seemed incapable of being unable to disguise his emotion. But it was his mouth that seemed to define him, it was capable of much movement and whether he was aware of it, he used it well. Full lips, but not pouting, and a width which might look out of kilter on another man, but on him seemed to suit him perfectly well, giving him even more ammunition to express himself. I gauged that for a man unlikely to be able to defend himself by way of fists or weapons, for I guessed he was untrained in either, a ready wit was good artillery.

  He didn’t seem to mind my examining him, but paused a little, as if appraising me in return. “I have to say,” he continued, showing no signs of moving away, “that my grandfather is impressed by rank, wealth and stature. He would accept you in a heartbeat.”

  “I wasn’t intending to propose to him,” I said, almost without thought, and one edge of his extraordinary mouth quirked up. “I was under the impression that Miss Pelham was of age.”

  At this he smiled, the damnable man, but his eyes were still wary. “She is, indeed. But she listens to advice. She, as you may have—as many predatory suitors have—discerned, she is a little unworldly. My grandfather would have her married to Mr. Finbarr Thouless by now had I not stepped in.”

  At the mention of that most damnable rake, the scourge of many a family in the past few years, my blood ran cold. “Surely not?”

  “Why not?” he said, putting his glass on the mantlepiece and idly stroking one of the ornaments there. “He may have no title, but he has an income of ten thousand, and estates in Ireland, even though he sells them as fast as he can.” He seemed to be looking straight into my soul and knowing exactly how much I would be worth, should this marriage go through. I had a feeling he knew more than I did, although truth to say, that would not be difficult.

  “He also has at least three women who thought they were wife to him.”

  “And many more who should be, and were not even deceived into ceremony.”

  I took a breath; I did not like the way the conversation was turning. I would not be so insulted as to be considered in the same breath as Soulless Finbarr, as he was becoming known. “I am in earnest, sir. Not titled, it is true.” There was little point telling him that I had no idea of the young lady’s status when I had met them the first two times, “and I don’t insult your intelligence by telling you that I am in love for I am sure it is a tale you have heard before. But I am in earnest.” I hoped that my face would speak for me.

  He stared hard into my eyes, and as he did, I felt that warmth again, but this time without the need to inflict violence upon him. The warmth spread, and my rod stirred in my breeches. I paled and drained my drink, wishing for another. Damnable time for such schoolboy inconvenience.

  “You do not look a dissembler,” he said slowly. “But then Thouless has fooled many with those angel eyes and silver tongue of his. Shall we not shake hands, sir?” he said. He moved his cane over, and held out a hand. “I give you leave to woo, at least—and I look forward to your progress with some anticipation.”

  I smiled at him, probably for the first time since we’d met, and I saw his expression change once more, and his look was hard to describe. My batman, Porter, who had dragged himself across the Peninsula after me, was an avid collector of insect life and had, at all times, carried a case full of dead specimens he had picked up on our marches. The expression that Heyward had at that moment was so similar to Porter’s as to be identical; it was as if he’d discovered a new species of butterfly. I took his hand, shook it soundly, and nearly fell backwards when Heyward drifted forward as if off balance. His cane fell to the floor and the damnable man kissed me full on the lips. The weight of his stumble forced us together for mere seconds and I was almost too startled to move, and then I found I could not push him away. The feel of another’s lips on mine, the warmth, the slight dampness, and the incredible sensation of sight—impossible to describe—but I could see his mouth with my lips, and God help me, I wanted to crush him to me, as strongly as I wanted to shove h
im away, to see him sprawled and helpless on the floor like a turtle on its back.

  Instead I took him by the elbows and lifted him, easily—he was surprisingly slight—pushed him against the fire surround and bent down to get his cane. I found I was shaking, with what I thought was anger. “You continue to test me,” I muttered, “although there are more gentlemanly ways to do it than trying to prove me unnatural.” I wondered briefly if he had tested Thouless in the same way and I felt an unwarranted stab of emotion at the very thought of it. Knowing what I did of Thouless, I wouldn’t have imagined he would have pushed the handsome Heyward away with such anger and ease.

  I strode toward the door and pulled it open, stopping in the doorway, now recovered in composure, even if my rod were misbehaving in thoroughly atrocious manner. “Tell my father I shall see him at home.”

  It wasn’t until I was out in the cool fresh air that the words of my brother returned to me.

  Return to TOC

  Chapter Six

  In which my father insists on results and I repeat a mistake.

  I expected my father to be angry, and in that I was not at all disappointed. I kept my temper, listened to him rant and rave and said nothing in my defence. “I explained your actions by saying that you were taken ill,” he said, finally. “Young Heyward backed you up, by God, although why he should have done so I don’t know.”

  “I am sure he had his reasons,” I said, going cold. “He seems quite capable of doing whatever he likes.”

  “As do you, sir, as do you! One more performance—one more!—and you shall seek your fortune elsewhere. You’d find a livin’ in India, I’m sure of it, if you can’t stick the company here! And a wife more to your liking, what?”

  “I have no objection to Miss Pelham, father. I’ve made myself more than plain on the matter.”

  “Then why the devil d’you keep runnin’ out on her?”

  I changed the subject, knowing I’d start to say things I’d regret. “Am I welcome, then, to visit her again?”

  “Yes, you are, although why I can’t imagine. That girl has offers coming from all directions, you may be sure of it.”

  I couldn’t resist it. “I hear she has. Thouless for one.”

  He went puce, and I took a not a little delight in it. “Damme, sir if her grandfather didn’t tell me that he isn’t now regretting turning him down! At least he was there, sir, kissing the hand and passing around the fine cakes, at least he was there, sir!”

  He looked ready to explode into further admonition, so I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain from commenting further. Patricide is sometimes tempting, but I would have had to explain myself to my brothers.

  I spent the day with some of my fellow officers losing what little money I had. I was mocked for my suit, and for the fact that I did not seem the happiest of lovers. It seemed that Heyward was right; all of England seemed to know of my lofty ambition, but rather than take heart from the cries of encouragement, all it did was sink me into further gloom. For all that my life was an open page to be read and critiqued by my peers, the shame of that forbidden kiss was all that I could think on, causing me to lose my concentration at cards and preventing me from applying myself to the pursuit of much needed inebriation.

  My glass sat beside me, unemptied, as I lost myself in the memory of the immorality I had done. That I had, for a lost second, enjoyed. Relished. Craved. The recollection that, with my hands on his shoulders, I could have pulled him closer, crushed him to me, drove me to despair, and thereby I was a doomed man. I had not afforded him the reaction I should. A man would have struck him immediately and insisted on satisfaction. A man would not have waited one—maybe two—seconds before gently putting him away. A man would not have been gentle! And Heyward knew all this as well as I, and I was now under his damnable obligation; his disposal.

  Why had he done it? Was it just to test me? And if so, was it only for his cousin’s protection? Perhaps he thought I was the kind of man who would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. Why, when I should have knocked him down, could all I remember was the way his lips looked like after ours had parted? Why had I hardened then? Why was I hardening now? Why could I picture his face, but could hardly recall what Miss Pelham looked like? Fears that had pulled at me for many years, fears about myself that I had buried deep, working and living with men as I had all my life, raised their heads and chilled me to the bone.

  “You brood on your fish, Chaloner?” Captain Byrne pulled a chair up, straddled it and smiled at me, his good humoured round face quite ruddy with drink. “You won’t be the only one who’s cast his line in those waters to land nothing. My brother tried. Fell at the first. The girl wouldn’t even see him.”

  Considering Byrne’s brother—rumour had it—had married an Indian princess in 1803, I wasn’t entirely surprised. But Byrne’s thoughts brought me to myself, that I had been sitting brooding over the wrong member of the family, and unless this endeavour was going to founder, it was about time I did something a little more positive than sulk like a poet with a broken quill.

  “Give me some paper,” I said. There was a cry of enthusiasm from the assorted officers and as a man they picked me up and carried me across the room to a small desk, all the while teasing in affected voices about matters they obviously knew nothing.

  “My DEAR Miss Pelham, I love thee with all thy peerage”

  “Miss Pelham, take me—and my fortune, and make me the happiest of Counts,” and other such ribaldry rang through the house as I wrote. First I wrote a long and formal letter to Lady Pelham, apologising for my rudeness the day before and giving my intention of calling again in the morning.

  “Perhaps,” I wrote, “you and your daughter would grant me some assistance in buying gifts for my sisters-in-law.” I wanted to portray myself as a kind brother who, used only to masculine company was incapable of buying anything with lace and ribbon, which was hardly artifice, it was completely true and the butt of my brothers’ jokes more than once. “My father will join us for luncheon, and if you have not tired of my company by then, I hope you will join our party tonight at the Assembly Rooms?”

  Then I scribbled the shortest of notes to Heyward.

  “Sir,

  You doubt my suit, and you have me now at a further disadvantage. I would clear my name, or remove my intention before I take it further. I hope to collect your aunt and cousin in the morning, and I will call half an hour earlier, at which time I hope you will grant me the honour of your time.”

  I had to see him, before I saw Miss Pelham again; I wanted to be sure what I might face—whether he might have already spoken to her, persuaded her mind against me. I grew hot just imagining the injustice of that conversation between them. Perhaps he held her hand as he broke the news, held her close with a smile. What did he say to her? What did he want for her?

  I walked home to clear my head and decided upon action. There was no point beginning the skirmish if I could not win it. Better to receive my father’s banishment and take up active service again.

  ~

  A few sleepless hours later, I was greeting him again, back in the same room where he’d kissed me. That alone was to unsettle me but I had been pacing, and I was calm for a short while. It lasted less than a minute, as after he entered my heart seemed to leap in its cage, and all the restlessness, fear and confusion of the day before returned.

  He looked around the room as if expecting... whom? My father? My second? I had every reason to have one or other of them present, and it was not until that moment that I wondered at the sense in seeing him alone. He lowered himself gently onto a chair and raised challenging eyes to mine.

  “I was surprised and pleased to receive your note, Chaloner,” he said, putting both of his hands on his cane. I tried not to look at his fingers, which were slender, the nails long and well tended to. I could not imagine them wrapped around man’s throat, covered in blood, or ripping a rifle from a dead man’s hands. He made me feel large, loutish and uncom
fortable in too many ways. “If we are to converse, then perhaps you could come down to my level?”

  I sat opposite him, nettled that he was giving me orders.

  “I would clear the air between us,” I said.

  “Oh, I think the air is perfectly clear.” He smiled; a terrible knowing smile that made me go cold.

  “And yesterday... Miss Pelham has been told of that?”

  “My dear Chaloner, do you think I would hurt my cousin in that way? She has spoken of you most favourably.”

  I started to breathe a little easier. “Then...”

  “Exactly. Is that all you wished of me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll take my leave.” He stood up and I copied him. “If you are satisfied that I am kinder than you consider me,” he continued, “then we are on equal footing again, I think. It was hardly worth my rising so early.”

  I walked beside him to the door while I tried to work out what he meant. I failed. I was wary of shaking his hand, but it seemed churlish not to. “Let us be friends, and hope to be closer,” I said. It seemed a natural ending, as I hoped to be his cousin in a while. His reaction was so swift that I wonder now how he managed to move like that, he pulled himself towards me, using his cane in a complicated move, like a dancer I once saw in Spain. His left hand came up as if to strike me, but I could tell by his face that his intention was less than aggressive. My own hand rose to block him from touching me, and his palm met mine, his fingers threading through my own with such natural grace that it was as if our hands were created to intertwine in such an intimate manner.

  With a deliberate movement and an angelic smile that belied his actions, he pushed his cane away from him, leaving me his only support, and left me no recourse but to grab his waist to stop him falling. Then somehow, and as much as I relived the moment (and I did, over and over) in my mind I cannot fathom how, we were kissing. I know, for the clock was pressing against my back, that we kissed for perhaps twenty seconds and no more, but for those twenty seconds the world ground to a halt and all I could do was kiss him back as if commanded to do so. My kissing experience—or lack thereof—showed lamentably, not that I was trying to impress him. I wasn’t trying to do anything. It simply felt more right than anything I’d ever done, save perhaps the first time I was put onto a real horse. He belonged in my arms; his lips warmed mine and when his tongue touched my mouth I opened it without a thought in my head. Instinct, need, want, vice, sin—call it what you will—all I know is that I wanted his tongue in my mouth more than I’d wanted anything before in my life, and I wanted mine in his.