The Restless Viscountess

Chapter 10

“Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary.” Oscar Wilde

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Chapter Ten

“Has he not grown more handsome since we last met, Imogen?” whispered Alexandra as she not-so-subtly watched Joaquín from the piano seat. Imogen was playing and Alexandra was sitting beside her.

The close friends and family of Elena and David had gathered at Ascot House for a small reception and afternoon tea. Ana and Aurelia were being passed around while being admired. Joaquín was currently holding Ana in his arms. He looked very entranced as he smiled down at her.

Imogen’s fingers delicately travelled across the ivory keys as she played the pianoforte. “He is, indeed, very handsome,” she replied. It was true, Joaquín was a very handsome young man. Ruling a country agreed with him. He was just as exotically beautiful as Elena, only male.

“Will you ask him about Greece for me?” asked Alexandra desperately.

Imogen’s eyes widened as she turned to look at her sister. “I beg your pardon?”

Alexandra pouted. “I cannot ask! If I did, it would be inappropriate!”

“And it would not be inappropriate for me to ask?” Imogen retorted. She could not simply ask a king about his marital status.

“Please, Imogen,” she begged. “Please do this for me.”

Imogen reluctantly agreed. “Take over for me, will you?” she asked as she summoned all of her strength to rise from the piano stool. Imogen was already very fatigued. She had stood for what felt like hours during the christening, and holding onto a ten pound infant for a prolonged period was not easy.

Alexandra continued to play the pianoforte while Imogen started towards Joaquín and the children. Elena was now sitting alone with her brother on the settee while they held the children.

She was determined to do her sister a favour, but her body, in particular her tired legs, was ailing quickly. Her vision had become hazy, like it so often did when she was about to faint. A settee, a chair, anything, she needed something to collapse in!

“Do you need my arm?”

An arm appeared out of nowhere just when she needed it. Imogen seized the limb before even taking notice of who had offered it. She was just grateful for the support. The person immediately took on her weight and she was able to rest for a few moments. When she looked up, she saw the smiling, scarred face of Colonel Spencer. He looked so kind when he smiled.

When her vision focussed properly, she could appreciate his grand appearance. He wore his red coat with all of his decorations. His chest was simply covered in medals. “What are all your medals for?” she wondered aloud.

Simon looked down at his chest. “Various campaign medals,” he said proudly, “and medals for distinguished service,” he added quietly. Imogen wondered why he was not as proud of his latter medals, but she supposed that was none of her business.

She selected a medal at random, and chose a circular silver medal with a portrait of the Queen. “What was this one for?”

Simon looked down at the medal that she was referring to. “That is my Candahar, Ghunzee, Cabul Medal,” he replied, “a medal that we were awarded with for taking part in the first Anglo-Afghan War.”

It was amazing to think that while the ladies of Imogen’s acquaintance were fretting about what fabric to have their next ball gown made from, there were brave young men overseas fighting for Mother England.