Page 13 of Twelve Drummers Drumming

“In truth,” he said quietly. “Curiosity of the rally was not the reason I have come here. I would not typically admit this to another soul, let alone the soul who has piqued my interest.”

It took Jemima a moment to understand what on earth he was talking about. Then her cheeks flamed red.

Piqued his interest—her?

“It was in hope of seeing you that I have traveled across London to this bizarre meeting,” the captain said quietly below the hubbub, “and my recklessness has been rewarded.”

Reckless indeed. Jemima hardly knew where to look. No gentleman had ever been interested in her. Interested in her sisters, true, and therefore willing to speak with her to elicit their goodwill.

But speak to her? Wish for her company?

It was unheard of. It was madness.

And that was the only reason, Jemima told herself, that warmth was spreading throughout her body. She was flattered, that was all. It was natural to be so.

It did not mean anything.

“But…” she stammered, wishing she was more coherent. “But what if you are not welcome?”

For some reason, she did not know what to do with her hands, so she clasped them behind her.

It did not seem real, that this man she had encountered by chance just one day before was here again.

Why did he seem to have such an effect on her? Despite the cold air around them, she felt uncomfortably warm. Her hands were tingling, and it was not the cold. Her gaze could not leave him.

Captain Rotherham spread his arms around him. “You appear to be the sole person who is troubled by my presence.”

“That is because they are more polite than I,” said Jemima with a dark smile. “You are the very thing we discuss, do you not see?”

“I am just a man!” Captain Rotherham said, and now his words appeared more irritated. “And a man who was given orders, which he obeyed. Nothing more.”

Jemima laughed unbelievingly. “Sir, you are a man who brings war!”

“And what benefit does this rally have?” the captain bit back. “I see no collections of money for widows and orphans, no understanding of what it is like to be part of a battle, no true human feeling for any of us who have come back!”

Jemima could feel the heat within her rising, and though it was mainly anger, there seemed to be something about the captain’s physical presence that seemed to incense her even further.

Besides, she could not disagree with a word he said. She had not considered those elements, and she was certain no one else at the rally had either.

It was most discomforting to be proven wrong, and so she did not admit it. “You should have kept up with your parade yesterday,” Jemima said cuttingly. “It is there, and there alone that you will receive your thanks. This is a place to hear exactly what we can do to end this suffering!”

Now the captain was shaking his head. “Do you really think that you can end a war by standing around in a street and complaining about it?”

“’Tis better than doing nothing!” Jemima shot back.

“’Tis the same thing!”

He looked truly aggrieved, and Jemima found a spark of disappointment in her heart. They were such different people. If only they had more in common…but no. She must not think that way. She should not be thinking of him at all.

“But I did not come here to quarrel with you, Miss Fitzroy.”

The sound of her name made Jemima start. “I…I did not think you knew my name.”

Captain Rotherham smiled, and she was reminded unwillingly that he really was a handsome man. “Of course, I do, you told it to me only yesterday. Now, what other topic shall we discuss? You?”

“Me?” Jemima scowled. “You don’t want to talk to me—and I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Don’t you?”

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