The Covert Captain by Jeannelle M Ferreira

Author:Jeannelle M Ferreira [Ferreira, Jeannelle M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

A word in private, Sherry?”

“Go on, then.” Sherbourne hauled his game leg up to toast before the fender. “Drink, will you?”

“Thank you, no.”

“Speak your mind, old Spaniel. This isn’t a campaign tent.”

Eleanor stood at parade rest notwithstanding, to keep from clasping arms behind her back and scuffing her boot-toe in patterns along the carpet. “Sherry,” she began, and failed. “I’m not young—”

She swallowed and wished she had taken him up on strong drink.

“…Holy hell, you haven’t a tendre for me, have you?” Sherbourne eyed the captain. “I’ve changed my mind. Hold your tongue!”

She stared back, and decided to get it over at once before things got thicker. “Major, I should like to speak for your sister’s hand in marriage.”

“Good God, man! Is she increasing?”

Eleanor fell back a pace at the snarl of his gaze. He had eyes very like Harriet’s, she thought, but they threatened her ruin for reasons entirely apart. “Upon my word, no.”

Sherbourne subsided. “You gave me a fright, Spaniel. Marry my sister!”

“Sherry, I am in earnest.”

“You can’t afford her, lad! Or she can’t afford you, much the same thing. I love her dear as life, but Pater left precious little in the estate; she’s only got two hundred pounds a year. And b’God I know what you draw.”

“We have spoken on that account.”

“Think what a life it will be for her, following the drum.”

Eleanor winced. “You know very well, sir, I shall not be fit for action again.”

“You’ve gone skittish because it’s peace, and peace is deuced boring. Never mind this nonsense of sir and Major. If the King called you—hell, if I called you—”

“Then I should invalid out of the regiment, Sherry, and draw a pension fit to keep your sister.”

“And until then, shall you rub along nicely on bread and water in that pile in Clarges Street, with the roof that knew Cromwell when he had his head?”

“I swear she will not know want, Sherry, and if I have little enough on the bank, at least she will have my honor and my name.”

“Oh, hell,” said Sherbourne. “You mean to keep on with this!”

“I mean only to have your answer.”

“She’s clever, Fleming, You don’t want clever. It’s nothing but a trial. You’re a beau yet, you’ve a war-wound, one turn round the floor at Almack’s and you could beat them off with sticks—”

Eleanor lifted her chin.

“Don’t,” Sherbourne put up his hands as if to meet a punch. “Don’t, Spaniel. Take her if you want her! But don’t give me a word about devotion, or love. Not from you! I can’t bear it.”

“…Sherry?”

“Take her, I said. Write to Bournebrook church and have the banns called. Write to my man of business; there’s a ring. Write to Mother, damned if I shall do it. And I suppose Harriet must have some damned-fool party, and empty the town of champagne. See to it, Spaniel.”

She legged him a bow. “Thank you, Sherry. With all my heart—”

“Oh, get stuffed!”

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