An Officer, Not a Gentleman: A Traditional Regency Romance (Brethren in Arms Book 3) Read online

  Her brother had moved back to their side and she saw him hail someone across the crowded room. Soon, the Duke and a lieutenant were walking their way.

  The man looked slightly familiar, but Bridget’s pulse suddenly began to throb and she felt self-conscious about her appearance for the first time she could remember. That was many moons ago.

  “Gracious, Bridget,” she chided herself.

  When his deep green eyes met hers and he was introduced as Lieutenant O’Neill, he opened his mouth and a delicious Irish brogue charmed her ears. Propriety be hanged; she was on the shelf and she meant at least to enjoy dancing with this handsome Irishman. His manner and smile proclaimed he was rake, scoundrel and rascal all in one beautiful package, and suddenly she knew she wanted to savour him, morsel by morsel.

  Indeed, her brother was as good as announcing her spinsterhood and desperation to the man by soliciting dances for her.

  The man then said, in the musical brogue that she could listen to all day, “I will do you no credit on the floor, lass, but I would not have you sit along the wall if your heart’s desire is to dance.”

  Bridget thought she did not care if she danced or not, but her words betrayed her.

  “It is now,” she whispered.

  She knew she was a fool, but anyone following the drum knew that life was short. If she had the chance for even a moment of happiness, she would seize it.

  Lines began to form for the opening set, and musicians began to strum a tune. Lieutenant O’Neill looked like a fish out of water, but she took his arm, not ready to let him go. She cast a smile at her father, who was suddenly paying attention since she was dancing with a partner of her own free will. She smiled impudently at him and then followed the lieutenant towards the floor.

  “I must apologize in advance, miss.”

  “Are you really so poor a dancer as that?” she asked.

  “I used to dance with my mam and sister years ago, and the fellows have been making me twirl about to make his Grace happy, but I confess, I feel ridiculous doing it.”

  She laughed heartily and she had to force it back when others began looking their way.

  The dance began and Lieutenant O’Neill was not so clumsy as he professed. While it was true he seemed to be concentrating overly much, he was not stepping on her toes or mincing about as a fop as he evidently feared.

  “You look familiar, sir. Where might I know you from?”

  “I was Waverley’s batman before he purchased a commission for me.” He watched her closely in his confession, and Bridget vowed not to show any sign of horror.

  “You have done well for yourself. I bet your mam is proud. I honour any soldier who advances on his own merit.”

  “My mam would have said I am putting on airs above my station, is what. I do not belong in this world,” he countered.

  “I think it says much about your character that your former commander thought you could be an officer. Not only that, Wellington chose you to serve on his staff.”

  Clearly the lieutenant did not appreciate the praise. His face took on a heavy scowl and Bridget was afraid she had offended him deeply.

  When their steps rejoined in the dance, he changed the subject. “Your name is Irish,” he stated. Although there was no tone of query, she felt obliged to explain.

  “My mother was Irish. My father is as well, though you might not ever know it unless he told you.”

  “Much like Wellington,” he agreed.

  “My mother died when I was four, from dysentery during one of the campaigns. I have travelled alone with Papa ever since.”

  “He must enjoy having you to look after him.”

  “He despairs of me,” Bridget said with a laugh.

  Lieutenant O’Neill frowned. Now what had she said?

  “He desires for me to marry and live the docile life of a lady in England.”

  “I cannot say that I disagree with him.”

  “I grow bored just thinking of it,” she said frankly. “I consider myself a career soldier in a dress, sir. I may not march at the drums or carry a rifle, but I do my duty just the same.”

  He watched her closely as they made a turn in the middle of a group. She continued quickly, “I cook, I sew, I nurse. I worry every time they leave who will come back. I can tell you, sir, I would much rather be in your boots on the front lines.” She shook her head. “Forgive me, I grow passionate.”

  “Never apologize, ma’am. You are right, of course, though you are much prettier than any soldier I have ever met.”

  Bridget tried not to show her pleasure at his words and cast a mocking glare at him. The dance was drawing to a close, and she did not want her time with him to be over.

  “You have not stepped on my toes once, sir.”

  “A happy coincidence, I assure you,” he countered as she took his arm to leave the floor.

  “I believe I am still in need of a partner for the waltz,” she said brazenly.

  “I would not press my luck twice in one night,” he said, eyes wide.

  “You would make me dance with my father or brother then.” She almost cringed at her desperation.

  “How could I cause a lady such distress? Very well, but I give you and your toes fair warning, mo álainn.”

  Chapter 2

  Go home now, Lieutenant,” Wellington ordered.

  Tobin glanced up to see the Duke standing before him, looking displeased. He immediately rose to his feet. “Sir, I have a few more reports to prepare.”

  “Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow, I’ll warrant. There will be enough wearing yourself thin once the battle begins. I appreciate your efforts, but go home. The rest of the lads left hours ago. You should be out charming the ladies. That is what I intend to do, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tobin gathered his papers into a neat pile and picked his bicorne hat up from a hook on the wall. The fact was, he did not want to go home; the chances of seeing Bridget Murphy were too high. He would either be coaxed into some social activity or come across her in the park. There was no sense in torturing himself by seeing her again. It had been a mistake to dance with her and waltz with her. It was like dangling a large piece of fish in front of a starving cat and expecting it to not take a bite.

  He began the tramp back to the house, walking through the park. He enjoyed seeing the children play with their mothers and nurses; the lush green grass, trees and flowers. He could almost convince himself he was a lad back in Ireland, which always made his throat thicken with emotion. This was why he fought: to protect these innocents from evil. Did they know war was almost upon them?

  “Of course not,” he muttered and shook his head, dipping his fingers into the cold water of a fountain as he passed.

  “Do you often talk to yourself?”

  He heard her angelic voice with the slight Irish lilt to it, yet had not noticed her approach. Shocking admission for a soldier, he thought.

  He did not look up. “Often,” he said, smiling to himself.

  “I like to come here to think,” she said, without really greeting him. He liked that she was not so formal. Though he knew he should greet her properly, he did not wish to spoil the moment.

  “Why are you not at a fancy party or dinner?” he asked softly over the melody of the fountain’s soothing trickle.

  “They are not really to my taste,” she said with a slight laugh and he had to look up at her.

  Beggorah, she was beautiful. “I canna’ fash why not,” he said, not bothering to hide his brogue around her. It was a relief to be himself.

  “I could ask you the same question. Why are you not out charming the ladies who came here just for a dance with a handsome man in a dashing uniform?”

  Tobin laughed. “Ask your brother. I prefer to hold up the walls in the corner.”

  “Then I should feel doubly honoured that you danced twice with me.”

  “The honour was all mine,” he said, looking to her eyes and feeling lost.

  “You ar
e different,” she pronounced. “Not just because you are Irish and not just because you were a batman.”

  “I am happy to be different, if that is what ye like.” He smiled.

  She smiled back. “I am different, too.”

  “Ye are perfect, mo álainn.”

  She sat down on the edge of the fountain and held her hand out for him to join her.

  Cautiously he sat next to her. “Why are you out here all alone? Should you not have a maid or someone to protect you?”

  She laughed derisively. “What could a maid do? I am an ape leader and I follow the drum. I do not have a chaperone when we are in camp. Must everything be different because some members of London Society came to watch the battle, as if it were a performing circus?”

  “I have always thought many of the rules were ridiculous, myself, but I do know what people are capable of and I would like to think that you were safe.”

  “From men like you?” she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

  “Most definitely from men like me.” He was quickly losing control of this conversation. There was a reason he had been working long hours to avoid her.

  “I am not afraid of you, Lieutenant.” She ran her fingers through the water as he had done a few minutes ago. There was something so beautiful about an ungloved hand and it was mesmerizing to watch the water trickle through each finger.

  She should be afraid. In her company, Tobin was afraid of himself.

  “Will you walk with me?” she asked.

  “Where are your father and brother?” He stood when she did and she placed her hand on his arm.

  “At a dinner or party. I told you, I do not enjoy such things. I often stay behind.”

  “Then why were you at the ball three nights ago?” He looked down at her.

  “You should not scowl like that, Lieutenant.”

  He tried to soften his features. “Better, mo álainn?”

  She tilted one side of her mouth up in a smile. “Yes.”

  He might as well plunge his head in the fountain now, because he was drowning.

  “To answer your question, Patrick insisted I attend. He said he had someone he wanted me to meet.” She looked at him pointedly.

  “Me?”

  “You and Mrs. Elliot. He asked me to befriend her and show her how to be an army wife.”

  “Ah, the Lady Amelia.”

  “Do you know her well?”

  “Very well. We worked together, in a fashion. You will like her, though she is no conforming miss. Captain Elliot has his hands full. I never saw a lady up to such mischief.”

  “They should suit well, then,” she agreed with a laugh.

  They walked in comfortable silence along several tree-lined paths. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, casting a violet-pink hue over the horizon.

  “This is my favourite time of day. I love sunrise as well, but everything seems more intense at sunset: the warmth, the smells, the colours and the sounds.”

  Tobin would never see sunsets the same way again.

  “Are you always so quiet, Lieutenant? Not that I mind. I feel a kinship with you. May I call you friend?”

  “Ye may call me whatever ye wish, mo álainn.”

  She stopped and turned to him, laughing. “Thank you. I have not enjoyed an evening so much in a long while.”

  “I canna’ say I have ever.”

  “Will you join us tomorrow on a picnic? Please say you will not leave me to face all of them alone.”

  “Ye are one of them, mo álainn. I am the one who should not have to face them. Besides, we are still working. I canna’ run away at my leisure.”

  “Patrick and Captain Elliot plan to attend, so I think you are making excuses, sir.”

  “I will ask permission, but I make no promises as the lowly lieutenant. There is still much to be done.”

  She was silent for a few minutes as they walked along, the crunch of gravel sounding beneath their boots. “How soon?” she asked.

  He did not pretend to mistake her meaning. “We do not know for sure. Within a week would be my best guess.”

  She nodded her head, biting her lower lip. “I had heard people were beginning to flee the city.”

  “And you? Where will you go?”

  “Where I always go—to help. I either set up our house as a hospital or, if needed, I go to one of the infirmary tents. I have been doing so since I was fourteen.”

  He looked at her with new respect. “You meant it when you said you were a nurse.”

  She nodded. “I had better prepare in earnest. Patrick and Father fear this will be one of the biggest battles to date.”

  “I am afraid I agree. But Napoleon must be stopped.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Tobin turned them back towards the Rue de Loi since the sun had almost set. To Tobin, it had been the most perfect evening he had ever known. Repeating it must be avoided at all costs, he told himself, although he knew he could never refuse her anything. In his eyes, she was the perfect combination of beauty and womanhood. She was peaceful. He had never thought a person could be peaceful—it was a strange sensation.

  When they reached the street again, Tobin found it hard to let her go.

  “I will see you tomorrow, Lieutenant.”

  “That was not a question, lass. You know I must ask my superior.”

  She gave him a look to melt his hardened insides, then turned and walked up the steps to her house. He watched her go and stood there long after the door had closed behind her. It was an evening he would treasure always, and he knew Bridget Murphy would fill his dreams for years to come, but she was a lady. He was not fit to kiss her hem.

  Bridget was surprised to find her father at home when she came through the front door.

  “Papa! I thought you had gone to the card party with Patrick.”

  “I did. I came home early. Have you been out alone at this late hour?”

  “I was, but I met Lieutenant O’Neil on his way home and we walked together for a while.”

  He frowned at her. “Was that wise? What do you know of him? I know he is on Wellington’s staff, which says much, but I have never heard of his family.”

  “I do not think he comes from any noble family, if that is what you are asking.”

  “Promise me you will be careful, Bridget,” he said in warning tones.

  “I will, Father.”

  “You know I only wish for your happiness. I do not know how you will find it while following the drum. There is not much happiness to be found in the business of war.”

  “I am aware of the life, Papa. You are morose because there is a battle coming. You are always affected so.” She looked at him affectionately.

  “You know me well, daughter. I want you also to know that if something were to happen to Patrick and me, you will be provided for.” His tone was melancholy.

  “I know, Papa. I do not wish to speak of it. Nor do I wish you to beg me to remove myself to my aunt’s house.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You are the one who should have been a general.”

  “I cannot argue with that.” She grinned back.

  “I do like that this Lieutenant O’Neil brings a smile to your face, but I would wish for you to marry someone of your station. You must think of your future and your children, Bridget. It is easy to mistake your feelings with the threat of battle imminent. Please do not do anything you will regret.”

  “I won’t. Good night, Papa,” she said, kissing him on the forehead. There was no point in arguing with him lest he forbid her to see the lieutenant all together. Perhaps it was a guilty pleasure, but it was one she would not want to deny herself.

  The next morning, the anticipation Bridget felt was more than was warranted by a simple picnic with friends. She dressed with more careful attention than usual, and she made certain the preparations were perfect. Lady Amelia Elliot had suggested the picnic, and Bridget had agreed to help with the arrangements. The carriages were drawn
up at the front of the house, the ladies were ready and the baskets loaded, but the three officers kept them waiting.

  “Do you think they will not come?” Amelia asked, growing obviously impatient.

  “I think they are here on military duty, and we must await their pleasure, if they are to have any,” the Duke replied with a twinge of reprimand.

  “It is the way of things, unfortunately,” Bridget agreed. “It would not be the first time my plans were thwarted.”

  “I suspect they will be here soon or they would have sent a note,” the Duchess added, so they waited.

  It was a warm but cloudy day, the threat of rain often present here in the spring as it was in England. They waited near the open carriages and Bridget felt herself grow more impatient than she should have. They were joined by Lady Georgiana Lennox, who was riding along with them. Bridget presumed her ladyship had accompanied them in order to meet her brother and another party, who was to join them there, but they were not close acquaintances.

  It was another half an hour before the three officers arrived. Captain Elliot, along with her brother and Lieutenant O’Neill, walked toward them from the park, a fine display of British manhood.

  “Forgive our tardiness,” Captain Elliot said with a bow to the ladies. “It was a near thing for Wellington to allow O’Neill to escape, and then only after an important dispatch was delivered.”

  “We are grateful to have you, Tobin,” the Duchess said fondly.

  It was curious, Bridget thought, as she watched Lieutenant O’Neill with the Duke and Duchess, that they certainly treated him more like family than an old servant.

  “We should be on our way before the rain decides to join our party,” Lady Amelia suggested.

  Bridget climbed into the open carriage and was joined by Lieutenant O’Neill, Captain Elliot and his wife. Bridget would not complain; it was just as she had hoped.