The Earl’s Intended Wife by Louise Allen

Author:Louise Allen [Allen, Louise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

‘The Major? The Major ravished you?’ Anna sounded incredulous as she gathered Hebe into her arms, wrapping the bedcover round her

shoulders, before hugging her tightly.

‘Yes…no. I mean, it was him, but he didn’t know…’

Anna was muttering in Spanish, then she broke into angry English. ‘How can I be so mistaken in a man?’ She produced a choice

expression that she had obviously acquired from her sergeant. ‘And he shows no shame, no sorryness. There, there, ducky, you cry and then you

have your bath and go to bed and I wil talk to him. And if he does not do the right thing, why, then my brother wil talk to him also and then he wil be sorry!’

‘No!’ Hebe wriggled until she could look Anna in the face. ‘Anna, please, say nothing. He did not know it was happening, he was in a fever,

delirious.’ At the look of puzzlement on Anna’s face she stumbled on, recounting the story of the French soldiers, that dreadful night trapped in the secret cupboard bed. ‘He remembered something in the morning, but I made him think he had been dreaming,’ she finished, wiping her eyes on

the towel.

‘But why do you not want him to know? He wil marry you then.’

‘He cannot, he is betrothed to a lady in England.’ Hebe squared her shoulders. ‘You promise you wil not say anything, please, Anna.’ The Spanish woman gave a reluctant nod. ‘Thank you. May I have my bath now?’

Anna helped her off the bed. ‘You want that I stay?’

‘Yes, please.’ Hebe sniffed. ‘I am sorry I am being so feeble, it is just such a relief to feel safe and to have a woman to talk to. Alex has been wonderful, but it is not the same.’

‘Indeed, no,’ Anna agreed grimly, picking up the soap and starting to work a sponge into a lather.

Hebe feel asleep as soon as her head touched the pil ow, only to wake, crying out in alarm, ‘Alex!’ to find the room in darkness except for a

candle burning on a side table, and Anna hurrying to her side from the big chair by the window where she had been resting. She took Hebe’s hand

and talked quietly in Spanish until her eyelids drooped and she drifted off again.

She woke to find herself alone and the room flooded with light from half-opened shutters. The comforting noises of the vil age going about its

everyday life drifted up from the square outside. Hebe sat up, wondering where her clothes were, then heard feet stumping up the staircase and the door opened to reveal the elderly maid, stil muttering, and with a tray in her hands.

Hebe summoned up her few words of Spanish and ventured, ‘Buenos dias, señora.’

This earned her a glare and a returned greeting, pronounced with such emphasis that she was made quite aware that her own pronunciation

had been sadly lacking. Hebe took the tray, considered trying a ‘thank you’, thought better of it and simply smiled and nodded before the old woman stumped out again.

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