Chapter Eight

H e did not dance again. He had no desire to even converse with any woman but Dorcas. He watched her for a while, then retreated to a side room for a game of cards before he returned to watch her again.

"You know her." It was the pirate from earlier. He had come to stand by Ben and was also watching Dorcas, who was currently strolling around the room with her latest partner. His head bent close to hers, he was clearly waxing loquacious.

"I do," Ben told the pirate. "I knew her back on the Peninsula, and I knew both her husbands."

He had removed his mask before the card game and had not replaced it, but the pirate had clearly recognized him even before that. All the better to fix the pirate with his glare. "She is a lady worthy of the greatest respect, despite these surroundings."

The pirate nodded. "Witness her costume. She is listening to us, you know. That fellow with her now is talking about the army or the navy. Telling her things he has never told anyone. And she is listening. She has been doing it all night. There's not a man of all those who have talked to her who would not mill down anyone who treated her as less than a lady."

"Good," Ben replied.

The pirate looked at him intently, then nodded his head once. "You know," he said. "You can be trusted with her."

"I know," Ben said, not bothering to ask what the pirate meant. He knew. He knew what it was like to be an alien in the land of his birth, tired of war, and out of place in peace. He understood what Dorcas was giving these men.

They had been attracted by the costume that reminded them of the women on whom they had depended for food and other supplies, for clean clothes, for medical aid, for the comfort of a womanly presence, with or without intimacy. Had that been her purpose?

Whether she had expected their response or not, she had stepped up to it, letting them talk, as the pirate said.

The pirate nodded again. "Is she your lady?" he asked.

"I hope she will be," Ben admitted. "I have not asked her yet."

"You are the only one she agreed to dance with twice," the pirate commented. "I would say you have a chance, Lord Officer."

Ben had stationed himself near the corner that Dorcas had been returning to, and when the orchestra ended the current set, she came around the floor toward that corner. She noticed him and changed direction to walk directly to him, nodding in the direction of the pirate, who bowed and took himself off.

"It is the last dance," Ben told her, offering her his arm.

"I think my feet will never forgive me if I dance again," she complained. "Do you mind, Ben? Do you think we could step into the garden where it is quiet, and find somewhere to sit?"

"Do you have a cloak?" he asked. "It will be chilly." She shook her head, so he stopped a passing servant and asked if she could find a shawl or a blanket and meet them by the garden door.

He lifted a glass from a tray held by another servant. "I expect you are thirsty," he said, handing it to her. He helped himself to one as well and, with a word of thanks to the serving woman, headed for the doors out to the garden.

The woman had found Dorcas a cloak and had also brought Ben's greatcoat. Mrs. Dove-Lyon's employees were as eerily observant as their hostess herself.

They needed the cloaks. The garden was chilly, which was probably why it was deserted. Or perhaps those who had been here earlier had returned for the last dance. Ben led Dorcas to a bench not far from the doors but off to one side, so they could not be observed from inside.

The bench was stone, but cushions made it more comfortable and less chilly. Dorcas took a seat, drawing her cloak around her. She removed her mask and looked out across the garden.

"Have you enjoyed tonight?" Ben asked her.

Her face turned toward him. "I have," she said. She nibbled her upper lip, something she did when she was unsure. "When I made the costume, I had you in mind," she confided. "I did not expect it to affect others as it did."

For him? In what way? He might need to ask. But first, he needed to comment on the costume itself. "You made it? Did you paint the scenes? They are brilliantly executed. And I understand why so many men flocked to your side. You remind us of the women who followed the drum, and how much the army depends on them. I cannot speak for the others, but you reminded me that you are not one of the hot house flowers that frequent London ballrooms, but rather a hardy bloom who has endured the chills and rough winds of war and has blossomed in spite of them."

She was smiling like his governess used to smile when he gave a correct answer in a difficult test. "Perhaps even because of them," she said. "The Dorcas who eloped from my father's vicarage thought love would conquer all, and that life following the army would be a great adventure."

She grimaced.

"I think adventures are more fun to read about than to have," Ben commented. "Is that what you wanted me to know? That you are a strong, resilient lady who has seen and experienced things that would send those hot house flowers into the vapors? That my urge to protect you is misplaced?"

Dorcas nodded. "You understood my message very well," she said.

"Also, you let me know that you can transform your experiences into beautiful artwork," he added, "and then use it to bring comfort to complete strangers. You know how to turn what is bad into good. You leave me in awe, Dorcas. I cannot apologize for wanting you safe, but I shall do my best to curb the urge, and to remember to do nothing without your permission."

That won him another smile. Perhaps what he said next would destroy the peace between them.

"I need to tell you that I have already, perhaps, overstepped. I meant it for the best, and indeed, I think it shall work out to your benefit."

Dorcas looked wary.

"I wrote to Kempbury a week ago, to ask him to call off Seward. He replied today. Yesterday, now, I suppose, and asked me to call."

She was staring at him in horror. "You saw the Duke of Kempbury? How could you, Somerford? Without talking to me?"

He was Somerford again. That couldn't be good. "I should have talked to you," he admitted. "But Dorcas, it is a good result. Kempbury believed Seward's lies, but I was able to convince him that you were a lady, a good wife, and an excellent mother. Seward had told him that Stephen was not Vespasian's son. Well. I soon disabused him of that notion. He informed me that it is Stephen and not Seward who is his heir, which explains why Augustus has been trying to harm you, don't you think?"

Her whimper wiped the pleased smile off Ben's face. "Dorcas, what is wrong?"

"He will take Stephen from me," she said. "Somerford, the duchess said it when I went to ask him for help when we first arrived back in England. He wasn't there, but his mother spoke to me. ‘If I thought he was Vespasian's get, I would take him off you and raise him myself,' she told me. ‘But you are little better than a whore and who knows whose son the brat is? Probably, you do not know yourself. Get you gone, woman, and be glad I do not have you taken up for impersonating a lady.' That is what she said." Dorcas covered her face with her hands and bent her head, defeated.

Ben was taken aback. But that was when Kempbury's stepmother's ear had been filled with Seward's poison. The case was different now, surely? "He says he means neither you nor Stephen any harm," he said. "He asked me to give you a note."

He handed it over, but she did not open it. The light in the garden was not conducive to reading anyway. "I am sorry, Dorcas," he said again.

"Mrs. Anderson," Dorcas said, standing. "The night is over, Lord Somerford. If you will excuse me, I think it is time I went to bed."

Ben had come to his feet when she rose. "May I escort you to the stairs?" he asked.

The look she cast his way could only be described as loathing. "I thank you. No."

"May I call on you tomorrow?" he persisted.

"Why? So, you can report to the Duke of Kempbury?" she asked. "I thank you. No."

"That is unfair," Ben could not help but say. "Dorcas, I am on your side, and if Kempbury were to prove an enemy, I would move heaven and earth for you and Stephen."

For a moment, the anger in her face fell away, and he saw some hesitation, but she raised it again, a mask more distressing than the one that went with her costume. "Goodnight, Lord Somerford."

She walked away, and Ben let her go.