With This Ring by Carla Kelly Page B

far,
Major. Oh, you are wearing pants!”
    He looked down in mock astonishment.
“Good heavens, when did that happen! Actually, General Picton gave
them back with a warning of more dire deductions from my person,
should I show my face at Horse Guards. And no, we can never repay
you for all you have done.”
    It was said simply, and she was
touched. She realized that she knew next to nothing about Major Sam
Reed, but with that realization came a sure knowledge that he was a
man who meant what he said. For no particular reason, she thought
suddenly of Kitty, her calculated search for a husband and her
endless soliloquies on the qualities thought necessary for a
husband. He should be rich and handsome, with enough intelligence
to know when his tailor is cheating him, and have good manners, she
remembered as one list. As she stood in the lady chapel listening
to the major, Lydia wondered if perhaps honesty should figure
somewhere on her own list. My demands are modest, she thought. I
think honesty is enough.
    “ Miss Perkins, you are not
listening.”
    “ Oh! What?”
    “ Most of us have found our way out
back to the tubs, and the pine tar soap, so you should not
encounter too many unwelcome visitors.”
    She must have looked blank, because
he laughed. “Fleas and lice, Lydia!” he said, using her first name.
“A soldier’s constant companions!”
    “ Oh!” She felt her face go red with
embarrassment, whether from the use of her name, or the mention of
vermin, she was not sure. He must not have noticed, she thought, so
she knew it would be wise to say nothing. “Thank you, sir! If I
were to carry those home, Kitty would have a hard time of it at
Almack’s.”
    “ And not you?” he asked.
    She made a face. “This is Kitty’s
year, sir. If I may quote Milton badly, I get to ‘stand and
wait.’ ”
    He appeared to be thinking about
that while she removed her scissors and fine-tooth comb from her
reticule. “I have on good authority from a brother officer who was
in here this morning, that Miss Kitty Perkins is cutting a wide
swath at Almack’s. He was there last night.”
    “ I’m certain she is creating a stir.
She has been groomed for it since birth,” Lydia agreed as she
removed a dishcloth from the basket she carried and tied it around
the major’s neck. “Kitty, eh?”
    “ So I assume. My friend said she was
tall and blond and beautiful, with a wonderful laugh and ….”
He hesitated, as if testing the wind. “… ’fewer brains than a
leaf of escarole.’ That last embellishment is a direct quotation,
Miss Perkins, so do not bite my head off.”
    Lydia gasped, gave the major a
severe look, and burst into laughter. “My sister,” she said when
she could manage speech again. “Kitty never did suffer education
gladly.”
    “ And you, Miss Perkins?” he
asked.
    She set down the scissors. “I like
to learn. Mama declares that if I cannot find a husband somewhere
in Devon’s bogs, I shall surely be a first-rate governess. Hold
still, now, sir, or your ear will be in danger.”
    He did as she asked, a slight smile
on his face. “Devon’s bogs, madam? Oh, really ! You remind me
of my two sisters, both of whom found husbands. And not in bogs,
for God’s sake. Where do women get their ideas?”
    She laughed and combed his hair,
quite liking its auburn color, and the flecks of gold here and
there. “Not a speck of gray yet, Major,” she said as she stood in
front of him to part his hair.
    “ I should hope not! I am only
thirty-one,” he replied, his eyes on hers. “Probably close to your
own age, eh?”
    “ Yes, I can tell that you have
sisters!” she said her equanimity unruffled. She stood behind him
to begin cutting. “I am far from thirty-one, sir, and no, I will
not tell you my age!” She touched his shoulder. “I would have
thought you slightly older. War does that?” she asked, not
disguising her sudden sympathy.
    “ War does,” he agreed, serious now.
“Sometimes I ask myself