Page 1 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
1
‘Lady Eleanor…’ A hesitant knock struck the door as Ellen’s maid whispered through it, as if she feared someone hearing her, even though she used the servants’ entrance to Ellen’s bedchamber.
Ellen’s father, the Duke of Pembroke, would be nowhere near the servants’ stairway.
‘Pippa?’
The handle turned and the door opened.
‘My lady, a letter.’ Pippa held it out as she came in. ‘It is from the Captain.’
‘From Paul?’ Ellen swept across the room, her heart clenching as she moved. Paul was the reason the whole house had slipped into tiptoeing and whispering. He’d caused her father’s recent rage, and now everyone was terrified of causing offence and becoming the next focus for her father’s anger.
If it was rude to snatch it from Pippa’s hand, then love had made Ellen rude.
Her fingers shook as she broke open the blank seal and unfolded the paper.
My love.
Holding the letter in one hand, the fingertips of her other touched his words.
My love…He’d only said those words for the first time a week ago, and yet she’d hoped to hear them for weeks, perhaps for months.Paul. An image of him dressed in his uniform crept into her head, his scarlet coat with its bright brass buttons hugging the contours of his chest. She loved the way he smiled so easily, and the way it glowed in his blue eyes. But he was a man of strength and vibrancy; life and emotion burned in his eyes too, and power cut into his features.
He was a breathing statue of Adonis; his beauty more like art than reality.
Her gaze dropped back to his words.
I’m sorry. Your father has said no, and by now I am sure you know it. I tried, Ellen, but he would not hear me out. He said I am not good enough for you. He would not even consider me. He will not have his daughter become the wife of a mere Captain, no matter that I am the son of an Earl. He wishes you to be a Duchess. He will never consider a sixth son who must earn his living. He actually had the audacity to tell me even if I had been my brother and the heir, he would not agree to our match.
But I refuse to give you up, and I must leave for America soon. My love. I want you with me. Will you come with me without his acceptance? Will you run away with me? We can leave at night and head for Gretna; elope. You know how much I feel for you. You know I cannot bear to let you go. Remember, my love burns brighter than the sun for you. You are my life, Ellen. Come. Send word via your maid if you will. My heart shall ache until I can look into your topaz eyes again.
All my love, forever and ever yours,
Paul
Tears dripped onto the paper, blurring the words. She loved him too. They’d met in June. He’d attended a house party with his father, the Earl of Craster, and his brothers. His family had come to talk politics, but Paul had only come to entertain himself.
Ellen looked up from his letter, wiping away her tears. ‘I will write back, Pippa. You will take the letter for me?’ The maid hovered near the door, watching.
When Paul had come here, even though Ellen was not officially out and allowed to socialise in high society, her father had agreed to her joining the party.
She’d been sixteen then.
She’d eaten with the men during the day and entertained them in the evening, playing the pianoforte and singing while they stood or sat in groups and talked. But in those weeks Paul had singled her out. He had sat next to her for several meals, and turned the music sheets for her when she’d played; his thigh would brush against hers as they’d shared a narrow stool.
She’d known her father’s intention had been for her to draw the interest of the Duke of Argyle, but she did not want to marry an old man. Paul had talked to her and made her laugh, whispering as she played, while the other men talked politics and struck bargains about the room.
They had communicated through the servants since the beginning of August.
Paul had befriended a groom while he had stayed here and the man took letters back and forth, passing them through Pippa.
Ellen’s conscience whispered as she turned to open her writing desk, which stood on a small table before the window.
The very first time she’d seen Paul, before they’d even been introduced, something had pulled her gaze to him.
Perhaps it was his scarlet coat which made him stand out among her father’s political friends, or his dark blond hair, which swept sideways across his brow, as though his fingers had combed through it. Or the blue eyes which had looked back at her. Or the dimple which dented his cheek when he had smiled before looking away.
When they were introduced, her stomach had somersaulted, and when he had kissed the back of her fingers, her knees had weakened. It was as if she’d known him a lifetime as he’d held her gaze.
