the remaining ladies sitting near him, he moved across to Lydia.
“What do I say that amuses you, Miss Bolton?”
“Oh, nothing, I assure you,” Lydia answered. “I am smiling at the fact my friend can achieve her goal without causing offence and distress.”
“And what was her goal tonight?”
“Rescuing you from your gaggle of admirers.” Lydia nodded her head slightly in the direction of the teachers who were still occasionally glancing over towards Matthew.
“Pfft. Hardly admirers, Miss Bolton.”
Lydia looked at Matthew sharply. He had seemed charming and friendly, a complete opposite to Samuel, who clearly did not want to be on this placement and showed it. She had been drawn to the quieter but more appealing man; she could not believe that she had been fooled by his jovial demeanour. “You don’t consider a room full of teachers worthy enough to admire an officer of the cavalry?” Her tone was cold.
Surprised at the chill emanating from the usually warm Miss Bolton, Matthew answered quickly. “What? No! Not at all! You misunderstand. I was referring to myself.”
“Then you have managed to confuse me, sir. For I have no idea what you mean.”
“You said admirers. How can anyone admire this face?” Matthew did not need to point to what he was referring to; it was plain to see from the moment one looked at him.
“How could one not sympathise with what you have gone through?” Lydia asked in disbelief.
“You would be surprised at how the sight of my face is now received,” Matthew said. “I am usually faced with gasps of shock and horror – even here, I was greeted with initial looks of horror by the teachers who have been flirting with me tonight. It turns out I am better than nothing, but if there were another man in our company, believe me, I would have been abandoned.”
“Not by me!”
“No.” Matthew narrowed his eyes. “You pitied me, which is almost as bad.”
“And how do you come to that conclusion? I said that I sympathise. That is a world away from pity, I can assure you.”
“I saw the tears in your eyes when we were first introduced. I admit it was not a look of disgust, but what was it if not pity?”
“Ah. That was nothing to do with you.” Lydia was in turmoil. If she admitted her reasoning, it would be opening up old wounds, but she could not let him think she pitied him. “If you would like to join me beside the window, I will explain myself.”
The two moved to a sofa a little away from the group and sat down. “I do not wish to discomfit you,” Matthew said. It was clear she was not eager to speak the words, as she took a few sips of what remained of her tea before speaking.
“I need to explain, for it is not fair for you to be welcomed with anything but a civil greeting,” Lydia said. “When I was eighteen, I was engaged to a boy from Sidmouth. I was born in the town and grew up here. I am not from a rich family, so there was never going to be a season in London for me.”
Matthew had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; this wasn’t going to be a tale with a happy ending. He could have cursed his challenge. Too used to being wrapped up in his own wounds, he had failed to realise that those around him might also be suffering.
“My betrothed – Luke – was from a good family and wanted to join the military. He had high hopes of making his fortune by being promoted. He was a rifleman. I was – am – immensely proud of him.”
“Where did he serve?”
“The Peninsula,” Lydia answered. “Until Badajoz in 1812.”
“Ah.” There was little else Matthew could say. The siege of Badajoz had been bloody and, although a victory, had cost many lives. It was one of the worst battles the troops had experienced.
“Yes. Luke was killed. A fellow officer wrote afterwards to Luke’s parents, explaining that he had been killed on entering the battlements. I am not sure if that knowledge has made the memory of his death better or worse. It is four years ago now. I miss him and the life we could have had, should have had, but I know I am not alone. When I saw you, it reminded me of Luke, and I’m afraid caught me a little by surprise. I am sorry to have offended you.”
“I should be