The Captain's Disgraced Lady. Catherine Tinley

family background.

      Mama rarely talked about her husband. His name, Juliana knew, was John Milford, and he had died while in active service during the Flanders campaign, soon after Juliana’s birth. Wounded in a skirmish with French forces, he had succumbed to infection a week later. Mama had said the bitterly cold winter had probably not helped. ‘I often wondered,’ she had told her daughter, ‘if I could have saved him. He was all alone, with no one to properly care for him. The army was in retreat and very few of the wounded survived.’

      Juliana had been almost afraid to breathe. Mama so rarely talked about her past. ‘Could you not have gone with him?’ Juliana had asked tentatively. ‘I know many army wives who travel with the campaign—Charlotte’s mother did, for a time.’

      ‘Your father insisted I remain in Brussels with you,’ Mama had replied. ‘I was unwell after the birth, and he said he wanted to know we both were safe.’

      Juliana had swallowed hard. ‘So it was because of me that he...died?’

      Her mother had hugged her fiercely. ‘No! Never! He adored you—adored us both. It was simply the timing.’

      ‘Why did you not return to England after Papa’s death?’

      Her mother’s face had crumpled. ‘Oh, I could not! To be subject to censure and control from—’ She swallowed hard. ‘I would have been punished and criticised for going away in the first place—I simply could not have borne it! I am not strong enough, you see.’

      Mama had decided to stay in Brussels and focus on raising her daughter. Since then, she said, she had had no reason or desire to return to Kent, where she grew up.

      Juliana had had a thousand more questions, but, since that day, almost two years ago, Mama had refused to disclose anything further about her past. She had begged Juliana not to press her, saying even after all these years it remained too painful to talk about. Juliana, conscious of her mother’s vulnerability, could not risk pushing too hard for information. She assumed Mama’s family had not approved of John Milford—or, perhaps, his decision to take his young bride to Europe to follow the Army. Perhaps there was some scandal there, which had made Mama anxious even all these years later.

      Now they were in England, Juliana resolved to try to gently question Mama again about it all. Mama had been an only child, she knew, but surely someone remained. Was the estrangement so strong they could not have any contact with them? Could they perhaps visit them? When she was younger, she had often created visions in her head of being welcomed into a warm, loving home and that she would be the one to bridge a reawakening of her mama’s relationship with her own family. For who could fail to love Mama?

      And what of her papa’s family? Was it possible she might have Milford grandparents or cousins? Would her mama be more willing to talk about it, now that they were in England?

      ‘I apologise to both of you that we are making this journey.’ Charlotte’s voice intruded on Juliana’s thoughts. ‘I am sure visiting Glenbrook Hall was not how you hoped to spend the afternoon—especially as we are to travel to London in two days.’

      ‘No need to apologise,’ said Harry cheerfully. ‘I am decidedly looking forward to it. I have heard much of our new neighbours and I confess to a certain curiosity.’

      Juliana eyed him balefully. Quite apart from his deceiving her this morning, she still hadn’t forgiven him for being so rude and arrogant in Dover, and resented his seeming popularity with the entire family circle. He had been welcomed, fêted and exclaimed over by everyone in Chadcombe, including—the ultimate betrayal—by her own mama.

      Everyone had thought him fixed in France and expressed their delight in animated tones at his unexpected arrival. Juliana had held back, a polite smile masking her disdain, until he had made a sly reference to her ‘falling over herself to greet him’ and how much of a pleasure it had been to meet Mrs Milford and her ‘charming daughter’ again. Charlotte, who had not been present when Harry had explained himself to Miss Langley, had looked confused.

      ‘But, when did you meet?’ she had asked innocently, failing to notice the daggered look Juliana had been sending in Harry’s direction.

      ‘In Dover,’ explained Mrs Milford, who had then gone on to describe their encounter in the warmest terms. Juliana had clamped her mouth shut and closed her hands into fists, for fear she would tell the truth—or that he would. He had known how she felt, of course, and had looked highly amused by her reaction. Charlotte had seemed astonished, then thoughtful.

      ‘Your curiosity is well warranted, Harry. The Wakelys are an interesting couple.’ Charlotte grimaced slightly as she spoke.

      ‘Interesting? Come now, Charlotte!’ Harry’s tone was lightly teasing. ‘You may speak plainly with me. And with Miss Milford.’ He looked directly at Juliana and she felt the impact of that steady gaze kick somewhere in her middle.

      Charlotte shook her head. ‘I cannot say what I really think, for I do not wish to speak ill of people whom I barely know.’

      ‘Your discretion does you credit. Perhaps Miss Milford will oblige me. What is your impression of the Wakelys, Miss Milford?’

      ‘They are rude and encroaching, and not the sort of people Lady Shalford should be visiting.’ Juliana spoke bluntly, hoping to shock him. He was undaunted, humour glinting in his eyes. She turned to Charlotte. ‘Must you visit them?’

      ‘I fear so,’ said Charlotte sadly. ‘Mrs Wakely caught me unawares when they were leaving Chadcombe and I had agreed to call upon her before I knew what was happening.’

      ‘Did you discover the tale behind their move to Glenbrook Hall?’ Juliana hoped the Wakelys would be in the district only temporarily. She did not want anything to spoil Charlotte’s happiness and feared Charlotte would be too kind-hearted to repulse the strange duo.

      Charlotte nodded. ‘Adam has been informed there is a dispute about the inheritance, and the Wakelys have been allowed to live there while the executors establish Mrs Wakely’s claim. It is known she has been given a generous allowance, too—the old Baron, Cowlam, was extremely wealthy, I understand. That might account for the diamonds.’

      Juliana giggled. ‘And the peacocks!’

      Charlotte laughed. ‘Lord! I wonder if they will have bought some?’

      Harry smiled broadly. ‘Come now, you must tell me more of this! What peacocks?’

      Juliana couldn’t resist, for it was too good a tale not to be told. Eyes dancing, she told him of the Wakelys’ plan to purchase peacocks. His reaction was gratifying, and for a few moments she actually felt in charity with him. She allowed him to be charming—indeed, she had admitted it from the first. And he was now part of her dear Charlotte’s family. Begrudgingly, she admitted he seemed genuinely loved by those at Chadcombe and that he must, therefore, have some good qualities she had not seen. She was sure of one thing, though. She would never wish to be close to him.

      * * *

      Harry watched Juliana as she told her tale, enjoying her animated features and sparkling eyes. He felt an unanticipated thrill as she spoke—this was the most relaxed he had ever seen her in his company.

      Since his arrival at Chadcombe, she had tried to keep him at a distance, something which he had taken as a personal challenge. Her coolness was no match for his confidence in his ability to charm young ladies. The only time she had been openly angry and disdainful was during their encounter in the Orangery. Still, he mused, that event had had its compensations. He still remembered how it felt to have her beneath him, for those brief moments. Even the bump on the head now seemed a price worth paying. She was undoubtedly a daring woman!

      Finding her installed in his family home had been an unexpected delight. He knew she was determined to dislike him, but somehow, it did not bother him. His instincts told him that, at a deeper level, her feelings towards him were much more mixed. He saw it in her awareness of him—a responsiveness which was entirely mutual. They came alive in each other’s company, politely