The Brigadier's Daughter. Catherine March

Westfaling.’

      ‘Indeed I am.’ Felix stared back at him, with a slightly belligerent set to his mouth, elbows akimbo.

      ‘Well, then, I will escort the ladies home.’

      ‘There’s no need!’ Sasha exclaimed. ‘We have Farrell.’

      ‘Of course I must, Miss Packard. I would be failing in my duty as a gentleman if I did not.’

      Georgia was having none of this, and with a wink for Felix, she dug her heels in and her horse leapt into a canter towards the park gates, her glance at Captain Bowen clearly challenging with a catch-me-if-you-can bravado. Sasha followed after her. It was obvious to him that both the Misses Packard were excellent horsewomen and he set his own horse into a gallop as he went after them, the groom Farrell struggling to urge his lazy hack into a trot and lagging far behind.

      ‘Georgia!’ Sasha called, the drumming hoofbeats of their horses smothering her voice.

      Her sister thundered on, and only lessened pace as they neared the park gates and she was forced to slow her horse to a trot as they clattered onto the hard surface of the paved road.

      ‘Wait,’ Sasha told her sister firmly. ‘Captain Bowen will think it extremely rude if we do not let him escort us. I am sure he thinks I am a complete ninny as it is.’

      ‘Oh, don’t be so silly, Sasha darling,’ scoffed Georgia. ‘Besides, does it really matter what Captain Bowen thinks?’

      ‘Yes!’ retorted Sasha. ‘Yes, actually, it does!’

      Georgia was somewhat taken aback by her gentle sister’s vehemence, and she glanced back at the fast-approaching Captain Bowen with a thoughtful light in her bold blue eyes. ‘Very well, Sasha, we will let him escort us home, and even invite him in for a nice cup of hot chocolate.’

      ‘Oh, but—’

      Georgia looked at her with raised brows, her head tilted slightly to one side. ‘What, changed your mind? Come now, you can’t be blowing hot and then cold in the space of a few seconds.’

      ‘I am not blowing hot! Really, Georgia, you try my patience, you are the most exasperating—’ Sasha bit her tongue as Captain Bowen approached, and the girls drew their horses level on either side of him, making a picturesque tableau that drew admiring glances, the two elegantly attired young women on their dappled-grey hunters riding alongside the handsome gentleman astride his big, gleaming bay.

      A few moments later they turned into the stable mews near Roseberry Street, and dismounted. Captain Bowen accepted Georgia’s invitation and spent a pleasant half-hour in the drawing room enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and the company of ladies, a novel situation for one who had spent years in the rough company of his soldiers in the wilds of the North-West Frontier.

      Lady Packard had descended downstairs and was settled on a sofa in the drawing room, near the long window overlooking the gardens to the rear of the house, where she could gaze out and enjoy the warmth of the winter sunshine. A tartan rug covered her legs; she was pale and a little breathless, yet she smiled at Captain Bowen and he soon fell under the spell of her charm and beauty.

      ‘My husband tells me you are posted to St Petersburg,’ Olga purred in her sultry, heavily accented voice. ‘It is my home town, you know, I was born and raised there.’

      ‘Indeed, ma’am?’ Captain Bowen sat attentively on the edge of his seat, setting the cup of hot chocolate in its saucer as he answered her. ‘And you are quite correct, I am due to sail at the end of April, weather permitting.’

      ‘Have you been there before?’

      ‘No, ma’am, I have not had the pleasure.’

      ‘Do you speak Russian?’

      ‘Unfortunately I do not, but the Brigadier has offered to tutor me. I do manage to get by in French, though.’

      ‘Russian is a difficult language, not one that can be learned in a hurry.’ Lady Packard frowned, absently stroking her slender white fingers over the tartan of her rug, several ornate and expensive rings glinting. ‘I am a little puzzled, then, my dear Captain, as to why you should be sent, having no experience.’

      ‘Oh, Mama,’ protested Sasha gently, who sat on the far side of the room near the fireplace, where the light from the front window fell behind her, her figure a silhouette, ‘what an embarrassing question.’

      Her mother laughed. ‘Sasha dear, I am sure Captain Bowen is made of sterner stuff.’

      ‘Indeed. I am flattered by your interest,’ he replied politely, glancing over at Sasha, and then to Georgia, seated to her mother’s right and as close to Captain Bowen as she could contrive, flashing her brilliant sapphire eyes at him. ‘I believe it may be my experience in Afghanistan that is the chief reason why I have been posted to St Petersburg. The Russians have long been conniving to get a foothold there.’

      ‘And why would they do that?’ Sasha asked, intrigued.

      He turned slightly to face her, his eyes roaming over her shadowed face as he tried to discern her expression. ‘Because, Miss Packard, Afghanistan is close to India, indeed, a crossroads between Europe and Asia, and the routes from one country to the other are much valued, either for trade or war.’

      ‘Oh, I see.’ Sasha looked away.

      ‘And do tell us,’ Georgia gasped in a breathy voice as she leaned towards him, ‘what Mrs Bowen thinks of her imminent removal to such a distant land?’

      ‘Um…’ He cleared his throat and looked at his cup. ‘Er, there is no Mrs Bowen. I am a bachelor.’

      ‘Oh, pardon me!’

      ‘It’s not a disease, darling.’ Her mother laughed. ‘I do believe you are to join us for dinner on Christmas Eve, Captain Bowen.’

      He nodded. ‘Thank you, I am looking forward to it.’

      ‘Are you?’ Georgia asked, leaning towards him, her eyes soft and moist, inviting, holding his gaze for a moment almost too long beyond the limits of propriety, then her lashes swept down, and she looked away. ‘I do so love Christmas, don’t you, Captain Bowen? It’s a wonderful time of year, all the presents and the tree and the food, and then even better still is New Year. I do so enjoy a good New Year’s Eve party, with all the hugging and kissing under the mistletoe.’

      ‘Georgia,’ her mother admonished, in a soft voice, laced with mischievous laughter very similar to the sound purring from her daughter’s throat.

      ‘Indeed.’ Captain Bowen quickly finished his cup of chocolate and set it on a small table, rising to his feet. With a small bow towards Lady Packard, he bade her farewell and gave his thanks.

      When he had left and the door closed behind him, Sasha leapt to her feet, exclaiming, ‘Oh, Georgia, I am so ashamed of you!’

      Her sister looked up with a wide-eyed gasp. ‘Goodness, Sash, what on earth have I done?’

      With a swish of her skirts Sasha hurried to the door, retorting over her shoulder, ‘Oh, you know very well! You were like a cat with a mouse! You are going to toy with him, just like all the others.’

      ‘Rubbish! Why would I?’ snorted Georgia with a little toss of her head.

      ‘To make Felix jealous! And just because you are so beautiful, you can!’

      ‘Of course not, darling Sasha.’ Georgia smiled, casting a wary, sidelong glance to her frowning mama. ‘Anyway, what do you mean? What others?’

      ‘Hamish?’

      ‘Oh, he had red hair and was a terrible bore!’

      ‘I liked him!’

      ‘He was no good for you.’

      ‘Robert.’

      ‘He was French!’ Georgia waved her hand in a dismissive