shut his eyes against the old pain and self-recriminations. Will had saved his wretched life and what had he done in return? The memory of a pistol shot resonated in his heart. Ashby shuddered, anguish lacerating his soul. Perhaps this was part of the torture in seeing Will’s sister again. Both in spirit and in appearance, Isabel was a replica of the only true friend he ever had.
How could he help her when he could barely help himself?
He opened his eyes and stared at the gargoyle he held in his hand. “Damn you to hell,” he rasped, as the gargoyle in the hand mirror mouthed the same thing back at him.
Someone scratched the door. Ashby raised his eyes in time to see a calling card sliding in from underneath the door onto the carpet. He pushed to his feet and went to pick up the card. It was elegantly embossed with Isabel’s name and role as chairwoman of her charity.
“Look at the back side,” Phipps suggested. If Ashby didn’t know better, he would swear the pest had drilled eyeholes in the door. Cursing, he turned the card over and a tight fist coiled around his heart. In a neat, slightly florid hand was written, “I need your special skills.”
Chapter Two
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
—Christopher Marlowe:
The Tragical History Of Doctor Faustus
Seven Dover Street, 7 years ago
“I wonder what’s for dinner.” Captain William Aubrey smacked his lips as they trotted into Dover Street. “I smell oxtail stew, pork and apple pie, and roast beef with Yorkshire pudding.”
“You didn’t notify them that we were coming for three days?” Ashby asked.
“Why spoil the surprise?” Will smiled. “Izzy will shriek and cry and it’ll be splendid fun.”
A smile tugged at Ashby’s lips. “She always reacts that way when you visit.”
Will eyed him sardonically. “When I visit?”
Ashby felt his face warm. “Stop that, Will. She mustn’t know that I know.”
Will burst out laughing. “The entire world knows my little sister has a tendre for you, Ash. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes and ears.”
“No, it isn’t, and her knowing that I know will only embarrass her.”
“The only one who seems embarrassed by this is you, Ashby.” Will chuckled. “I swear, with all these madwomen throwing themselves at you in every town and garrison, not to mention those here in London, my chit of a sister is the one who makes you blush. Bloody capital.”
It was true. Izzy Aubrey made him blush. Furiously. He supposed the reason for his absurd reaction to the little chit had something to do with her reasons for liking him. Women had always liked him. They liked his title, his money, some even his wicked reputation, and mostly how his body made them feel, but a fifteen-year-old chit? Now that was a mystery he was unable to solve.
“Speak of the little she-devil…” Will chuckled as they spotted Isabel sitting on a bench near the rose garden, a tiny black pup cuddled in her lap. “Isabel Jane Aubrey!” Will called out. “Come and kiss your bone-tired brother hello!”
“Will!” Izzy shrieked, bounding to her feet. Her gaze darted to Ashby and an adoring glow spread in her wide, sky blue irises. Ashby’s heart missed a beat, then it expanded to absorb the warmth she instilled in him. Vaguely he recalled feeling this way once, a long, long time ago.
“I rest my case,” Will mumbled. He swung off his horse and opened his arms in invitation. Izzy put the pup in its padded basket on the bench and flew into her brother’s arms.
Enjoying the scene, Ashby swung down and tossed his and Will’s reins to a waiting groom. “Don’t I get a kiss?” He smiled, meeting her eyes while she rested her cheek on Will’s chest.
Isabel extricated herself from her brother’s embrace and timidly approached him. Her color was high; her girlish smile melted his heart. “Captain Lord Ashby.” She bobbed. He bent his head, and she rose on tiptoe to softly kiss his cheek.
“Major now,” Will corrected.
“Congratulations! You’ve made it before Will did.” The glorious smile Isabel bestowed on him put Ashby in a daze. She didn’t mind; she applauded him. No one but his servants ever did, and they were paid to be respectful.
“Thank you.” Ashby nodded stiffly, his throat clogged.
“And he’ll probably make lieutenant colonel by the time he’s thirty,” Will remarked. “Do I smell Eccles cake?” He sniffed the air, tripping after his nose.
“You’ve smelled every meal from Cuidad Rodrigo to St. James’s Street.” Ashby smirked.
Izzy shook herself. “Will, wait. I need you to take a look at my new puppy. He won’t stand on his left foreleg, but I couldn’t find anything wrong with it.”
“What do I know of pups? Ask the expert.” He waved his arm at Ashby. “Here’s your man with the special skills.” He went inside the house, announcing his presence to everyone else.
Izzy stared at Ashby. He ambled to the bench. “Let’s take a look at your pup, shall we?” They sat side by side. Izzy lifted the tiny black ball from its basket and put it in Ashby’s hands.
“I don’t know how he got here. He seems but a few days’ old. I wonder what happened to his mother and siblings. I couldn’t find them anywhere within a mile of Dover Street.”
The tiny thing filled the palm of his hand. Ashby caressed it, running his finger along the pup’s neck and making it gurgle with pleasure. “Left foreleg, you say? Let’s see.” He rolled the dog gently onto its back and examined the leg. “No scrapes. No bruises. No broken bones.” He tried to set the pup on its feet, but favoring its left foreleg, the pup tilted aside and fell. Ashby scooped it up tenderly. “Where did you say you found this black ball of fur?”
“He was ruining Mama’s roses,” Isabel replied. “She wanted to toss him in the street.”
“The rose garden…” Ashby smiled. He took the tiny leg and carefully examined its paw. “Uh-ha.” He plucked out a thin, almost invisible thorn and offered it to Isabel. “Here’s your problem.”
Isabel’s eyes shone. “You’re a great gun, Ashby…beg pardon, Major Lord Ashby.”
“Call me P…” His heart began thudding. “You may call me Ashby. Everyone else does.”
“Thank you,…Ashby.” As she pressed another chaste kiss on his cheek, the pup leapt from his lap, onto the drive, and hopped up the front steps. “Dear lord! Not in the house!” She dashed after the dog, burnished locks bouncing on her shoulders, short blue skirts swelling around the pantalets concealing her slender calves, and vanished inside the house.
Ashby came to a decision; it was the most shocking one he’d ever made: He wanted a wife. He wanted this, what Will and Izzy had, a home, with children and puppies to greet his face, with mouthwatering treats cooking in the kitchen. He wanted someone other than solicitors, bankers, or estate managers to correspond with from the front line. He wanted a family. It was the only sane thing worth living for, the one thing he’d want to return to when the war was over.
Whistling with satisfaction, he walked into the familiar bedlam of Seven Dover Street and met Will at the foot of the stairway. Will’s mouth was stuffed with cake. “Fixed the dog?”
“I fixed the dog.”
The anarchy upstairs grew louder. “Let’s find out what’s so bloody interesting up there.”
They padded upstairs