The Captain's Disgraced Lady. Catherine Tinley

has been to gain access to the parlour!’

      His eyes flashed. She had scored a hit then? Good.

      ‘Indeed?’ he said coolly. ‘I did not think you cared so much for your mother’s comfort earlier, when you were bustling her towards the carriage when she was clearly unwell! Or when you wanted to take her away from the warmth, to the taproom, rather than share the parlour!’

      Juliana gasped. ‘And what business is it of yours, may I ask?’

      ‘In a sense, none. But I am used to considering the needs of those around me and I saw how ill she looked in this very room!’

      ‘Are you suggesting I fail to consider my mother’s needs?’ She was livid. No one had ever dared suggest such a thing. Why, she had devoted all her energies to looking after her mother!

      ‘That isn’t what I said.’

      No, but he had certainly implied it! How dared he?

      ‘I shall thank you to keep your opinions to yourself! I do not wish to discuss my own personal business with you!’

      He threw her a look filled with challenge. ‘And yet you just have.’

      ‘That was a mistake. It will not happen again.’

      Juliana had had enough. Without a word of goodbye, she turned and strode away. She swept regally across the taproom, head held high, then collided inelegantly with the serving girl, who almost dropped her basket. Juliana rocked on her heels and put a hand out to touch the table in order to prevent herself from falling. Lord, what a time to be clumsy!

      She could feel his eyes on her and knew he was laughing. This was fast turning into one of the worst days of her life. She mumbled an apology to the girl and scuttled out of the room as fast as she could.

      * * *

      Harry stood, filled with agitation. Absent-mindedly informing the serving girl that, no, he did not require another beer, he began to pace around the taproom. Damn Miss Milford! She had made him lose his temper and he had spoken hastily. He, who prided himself on his self-control.

      It had been hard-earned, this ability to detach himself from situations so he could always act coolly and rationally. It had taken years of relentless practice and self-discipline. Anger—like fear—was simply not permitted in his gut. He knew the risks of too much emotion. These days, it was almost impossible for an insolent private or an untidy lieutenant to cause him to bristle. He paused. Until today.

      He had been aware of his own frustration at being forced to return to England. He had not, however, expected his own temper to be so damn short!

      Provocation. That was his defence. The fiery Miss Milford was altogether too insolent and fearless with her words and manner. The disdain in her eyes still irked him now. Such insubordination would not be tolerated for a minute in the army. Men had been flogged for less! And for more...

      He checked himself. Insubordination? Had he somehow expected her to obey him, to take his commands as though he were her senior officer? He sighed ruefully. Yes, he had. Because he was a man and she was a young woman, he had expected her to defer to him and had been shocked when she hadn’t. He also, he realised, felt strangely protective of her. His instincts told him Mrs Milford was heavily reliant on her daughter and that, at times, this was something of a heavy burden for the young woman to bear. Not that she was helpless! Along with foolish amounts of courage, her evident wit and intelligence had been clearly displayed.

      He thought he’d had her at a standstill when she realised she would need someone to fetch the doctor, but she had outwitted him by asking Evans. Strangely, the thought gave him a sense of satisfaction, not dissimilar to finding an opponent who could genuinely challenge him in chess. A worthy foe, then.

      The fact that she also happened to be one of the most stunning women he’d ever met had not escaped his attention, either. Even now, he could picture her perfectly clearly in his mind’s eye. A beautiful opponent, and one who had stirred his emotions, and his body, as much as his mind.

      She had challenged him and bested him, but he was not without small victories either. She would be forced to dine with them tonight, against her inclination. He wondered if he could charm her.

      He reflected again on their battle of wits. Damn it! She had made him say unforgivable things. He recalled her face as he had accused her of not caring for her mother’s comfort. Beneath the anger, she had looked stricken. Harry squirmed uncomfortably. How could he possibly understand her motivations for behaving as she did? He should not have accused her so. Now, how was he to atone for it?

       Chapter Three

      In the hallway, Juliana paused. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. Never had she been so incensed! She dashed away angry tears with the back of her hand.

      The worst thing was, she admitted, Captain Fanton was right in a way. She had been so anxious to travel on tonight, she had failed to notice that her mother was still feeling ill. She had selfishly tried to push forward with her plans, without checking on Mama’s health.

      Yet, she remembered, her mother had seemed recovered as they left the parlour. She had enjoyed her tea, topped up with hot water, and had eaten two pastries with some enthusiasm. Had Mother really been hiding her illness? Or had she genuinely taken a relapse in the taproom?

      Captain Fanton had looked at her with such contempt. He clearly believed her to be insensitive to her mother’s needs. The fact that he had overheard her tirade didn’t help. But if the man went around interfering in other people’s business, then he should expect consequences from time to time.

      Anger warred with guilt, both emotions swirling around inside her, making it difficult to think straight. The thought of sharing a dining table with him tonight filled her with dread. Yet Mama had set her heart on it—trying to compensate for Juliana’s earlier rudeness. It was, she admitted, entirely her own fault.

      The fact that Captain Fanton was one of the most attractive men she’d come across had not gone unnoticed. Something about his handsome features, knowing grin and lithe body was making her heart race and her stomach flip. Behave! she told her disobedient body.

      Dinner would undoubtedly be difficult. But she was ready for the challenge.

      * * *

      ‘Are you feeling quite recovered, Mrs Milford?’

      ‘Indeed I am, Captain Fanton, and I confess I am feeling a little silly for making such a fuss. Thank you for your concern, and to you, Lieutenant, for fetching the doctor.’

      Evans muttered something about it being no trouble. He was clearly ill at ease and nervous, though had managed to eat four courses with a hearty diligence. ‘Not accustomed to making the civil—all bachelors,’ he’d mumbled apologetically when Juliana’s first attempts to engage him in conversation had fallen flat. By this she’d understood he was uncomfortable in female company. Juliana felt quite sorry for him and set out to put him at ease.

      She now knew most of his life story, his likes and dislikes in food and horses, and the fact that he was the only child of a lawyer and a seamstress. He had a perfectly respectable background, but confessed he was still much in awe of the gentry. He adored his commanding officer, Captain Fanton.

      This, Juliana put down to Evans’s obvious naïveté. Of course he would be in awe of the suave Captain, whose responses to Mama’s questions had included Harrow and Cambridge, so he likely had an aristocratic background, like many army officers. Not that she was listening to their conversation. She was perfectly happy to converse with the amiable Lieutenant Evans.

      However, for some reason, she did not want Mama to share too many details about herself—about their life. She had heard the Captain ask where they lived and Mama had described some details of their life in Brussels.

      ‘So, what brings you to England?’ he asked.

      ‘We