Val had put all thought of Stanton and James out of his head as he recovered, but a few mornings later, he looked up from his breakfast and addressed his father.
“Has there been anything in the paper about Stanton? Or James?”
“Evidently Whitehall thought it best to put it about that Stanton had been shot in some dispute over cards,” the earl told him with an ironic smile. “If they had revealed what happened, it would have caused a monumental scandal, which is exactly what they have been trying to avoid.”
“And James?”
“His name has never been connected with it at all.”
“Thank God,” said Elspeth.
“I have heard, however, that now that Lady Madeline has received a proposal, he has decided to resign his commission and make an extended visit to Italy. His decision has raised some eyebrows, but people only think of it as vaguely unpatriotic of him, while there is a war on. On the other hand, he is the head of his family, so it is better he not risk his life….” The earl’s tone so accurately mimicked the gossips that Val had to smile.
“Do you think I did the right thing, Charles?” Despite the moment in the garden, Val did not feel comfortable addressing the earl as his father. They were grown men, and for now, his father’s name came to his lips more readily. The earl did not mind, for Val referred to him in conversation as his father and their friendship was growing stronger by the day.
“I do not think ruining James or his family would have served any good purpose, Val.”
“He called many times when you were ill, Val, and Maddie tells me he leaves in two days’ time,” Elspeth told him. She would never judge him, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she wished he could see his way to saying farewell to one of his oldest friends. He knew she was right, but he wasn’t sure he could do it.
* * * *
James’s revelation had become all mixed up with the events at Whitehall, and the pain of discovering his friend’s treachery had become almost indistinguishable from the pain caused by Lucas’s pistol shot. He had had no time to take in what James had told him, and when he tried to remember their conversation, he only remembered how foolish and embarrassed and, yes, somewhat disgusted he had felt.
His father and Elspeth had taken themselves off for a walk in the park, something that had become a daily ritual, and Val sat at the breakfast table over a cold cup of tea.
If he didn’t call on James today, he would most likely not see him again for years.
Their talk a month ago had been stiff and cold. But he had felt so damned uncomfortable. How could he have given James any gesture of affection, now that he knew what James was?
And who is that, Val? he asked himself. What exactly has changed about James? He is still intelligent and charming and warm. A man who takes responsibility seriously. Look at how hard he has worked to bring his family back from ruin.
Only to place his family in far greater jeopardy, Val reminded himself. James had been an excellent soldier and a trusted officer, damn it, and he had betrayed a great trust. Yet he had been placed on the horns of an unresolvable dilemma, Val had to admit. Pay off Lucas Stanton or see the family he had rescued disgraced in a far more lasting way. The damage done to Lady Madeline, had her brother been revealed as a catamite, would have been irreparable.
Maybe what was holding him back was that he himself felt betrayed. Why hadn’t James trusted him enough to tell him? Even Charlie knew. For God’s sake, James, what did you think I would do, turn my back on you?
He hadn’t turned his back, had he? He had been surprised, that was all. And scared, he had to admit that. For if James was what he was, then what did he feel for Val? Or Val for him?
Val sat there agonizing, and then the answer came to him: James felt the same affection that Val felt for any of his friends, of course. James loved Val, just as James had loved Charlie. Just as Val loved James. Why should that be any different now?
He remembered their walks over the moors at school, and how James had helped him with Latin. There had never been a hint of desire in any of their interactions, then or now. If any had existed, well, James had hidden it well, thought Val with an ironic grin.
He pushed his chair back from the table and called for his shako. He was going to say good-bye to his friend.
* * * *
When Val arrived at the Lambert town house he was told James was out but expected back shortly. The butler showed Val into the morning room, where he paced nervously until he heard the door open and turned to see James standing in the doorway.
“Val,” James said quietly and, closing the door behind him, started over with his hand outstretched. He stopped midway and gestured instead toward the sofa. “Sit down, Val. You look thin, but aside from that, completely recovered, I hope?”
“I am finally feeling myself again, although I am not quite ready for one of Colquhoun Grant’s assignments. It will take another few weeks for that.”
“So you will be returning to Spain? I thought you might consider selling out, after your father’s recognition.”
“Elspeth and I are agreed, we have been in the army too long to give it up now. After the war is over…well, then it may be different. My father has an estate in Yorkshire that he has turned over to me and that would give us something to return for. I haven’t had a home except the army for many years,” Val said quietly.
Both men sat uncomfortably silent for a few minutes and then Val finally spoke. “Elspeth and my father tell me that you visited almost every day when I was ill, James. I am very grateful, but I wonder why you have not come by since my recovery.”
“I did not think you would want to receive me,” James said simply.
“I may not have been able to, James, although I am sorry to admit it.”
James gave Val one quick painful glance and then looked down as he said, “I don’t blame you, Val. If I hadn’t given in to Stanton’s blackmail, you wouldn’t have been at the point of death. You were very lucky, my friend, from what I’ve heard,” he added, his voice tight with emotion.
“I am very lucky. Being that close to death…. I can’t really describe what it was like, but it made me realize just how much I have: a loving wife, a father after all these years….”
“So at last you have come to an understanding with Charles,” said James, looking up at Val with a bittersweet smile. “I am glad that something good has come of all this.”
“I hadn’t finished counting my blessings, James,” Val said humorously. “I was about to say that I am also lucky to have had your friendship all these years.”
James sat very still, and unable to tolerate the tension between them, Val stood up and walked over to the window. The day had started out sunny and warm, but now gray clouds were scudding across the sky and the first fat drops of rain were hitting the glass and running down the pane. Val turned. “You were wrong to do what you did. It was treasonous, but I understand why you were driven to it. I am not sure what I would have done under the same, er, circumstances,” he stammered.
“And the ‘circumstances,’ Val—what do you think of them?”
“I can’t pretend it is easy for me to understand. In fact, I am not sure I do. But I have thought about it a lot and I would choose you as my friend all over again, James. I find that who you are is far more important to me than whom you love. You offered me the same acceptance, James, despite my birth. How can I do less?”
James was silent, and Val turned abruptly and said, “Well, I must go.”
James stood up and they walked to the door together. “I am glad you came, Val,” James said quietly. “I leave tomorrow.”
Val turned to face him. “Damn it, James, I hate to lose someone else I love,” he choked out.
“I will only be in Italy and I will write. After a few years, when the war is over, perhaps I will be able to come home for a visit. I’ll come to Yorkshire and see you and Elspeth and your children and we will tramp the moors together the way we did in Devon,” he added with a sweet smile and an extended hand.
This time, Val pulled James into a warm embrace. “I must go,” he mumbled, after they separated.
“Take care of yourself in Spain, Val,” James told him, resting his hand on his friend’s arm for one moment before opening the door. Val was gone quickly and James walked over to the window, where he stood for a long while, watching the English rain beating down until he could see nothing because of the rain and his tears.
* * * *
Two weeks after James left, Val and Elspeth returned to Portugal. Their sail took longer this time, for the wind was not with them. But the weather was warn and their return journey seemed an idyllic interlude, taking them away from the difficulties of the past two months and toward the unknown challenges facing them in Spain. Every evening they walked the deck, hand in hand, and watched the stars. Then they returned to their cabin, some nights to make love, others just to fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Their journey through Portugal to Spain was uncomfortable but uneventful, yet Val felt himself getting more and more anxious the closer they got to Wellington’s army.
“What will I tell your parents, Elspeth?” he asked her one night as they sat in front of their campfire.
“The truth, my dear. That we discovered we loved each other and decided we could not wait to be married.”
“That is not quite the truth, madame wife, and you know it. We discovered we loved each other only after our marriage.”
“But you did love me, Val, and I, you, long before.”
“Oh, yes, my dearest,” he answered, giving her a kiss.
“When did you know you loved me, Val?”
“I think I loved you almost from the beginning, Elspeth, but I knew it when I heard you say Mrs. Casey’s vows. You looked so lovely, just like that red rose in the Burns song that your father loves to sing. As I listened to you, I realized how much I wished you were saying those words to me.”
“You needn’t worry about my parents, Val. All they have ever wanted was for me to have what they have with each other. I never thought I would,” she whispered wonderingly.
Val pulled her into his arms and started to hum the Burns tune that had haunted him since the first time he’d heard it. “It is a beautiful song, Elspeth.”
“But even more beautiful with the lyrics, Val.”
“I don’t ever want to leave you, Elspeth,” he said, “though I will often have to, until this bloody war is over. But I will always ‘come again, my love, though it were ten thousand mile.’ I will come back if it is ten times ten thousand miles, to be with my rose. My bonnie wee lass,” he added, pulling her closer. Elspeth laughed softly, and when the fire died down, they warmed each other with the love that would burn for the rest of their lives together.