Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(15)
Alex couldn’t take his eyes off it as he made his way onto the wharf. General Washington was famed for the white charger he rode into battle, and though the army had always supplied Alex with admirable steeds, he’d never been in possession of a horse of any great renown, as much as he was fond of his former mount Hector. But a horse like this would make any warrior more confident, and Alex found himself wondering who owned it, and how he might be persuaded to part with it. Never mind the price. But Alex’s salary as an aide barely paid for his uniforms. This was merely a fantasy. Even so, it would be the kind of horse that would soothe some of Eliza’s fears about his chances in battle. It might even allay some of his own.
“If you leered at my horse any more openly, I would have to cite you for indecency,” a rough voice called from the shadows.
Alex started, and peered beneath the overhang. He was only able to make out a tall man in Continental army blue.
“He is indeed a fine specimen,” Alex agreed.
“Not nearly as fine as his owner,” said the soldier, who stepped into the light, a sardonic grin splitting his wide, fair face, which was lightly dusted by whiskers nearly as light as his horse’s hide.
“Laurens!” Alex exclaimed, dropping his satchel and rushing forward to throw his arms around his old friend. “You old dog! I did not recognize your voice at all!”
Laurens returned Alex’s embrace warmly. “My old friend,” he said. “I cannot tell you how good it is to see your face. There have been times in this past year when I despaired of ever seeing it again.”
“Oh, come now,” Alex said. “I know you were in France for much of that time, but surely it wasn’t that bad.”
“The climate is so damp in the plain, and those chateaux are so drafty. They may be larger than our plantation houses, but I will take the humbleness of Mepkin any day,” Laurens said with another grin.
“Humble? Mepkin? Although I have yet to have the privilege of seeing your childhood home, I understand that it boasts four grand parlors, a ballroom, and more bedrooms than one can count on the fingers of one’s hand.”
Laurens smiled wryly. “Said the gentleman who has been living in General Schuyler’s mansion for the past half year. What is the house called? The Pastures? It sounds positively rustic.”
“If only!” Alex said. “At first Eliza and I attempted to establish a residence downriver in New Windsor, but I was reassigned and she was forced to return to the Pastures. I was able to rejoin her there only briefly, and then we decamped to De Peyster’s Point just across the river from General Washington’s headquarters”—he pointed at an invisible spot north and east of them, lost in the mists cloaking the river—“and then once again circumstances forced us to return to Albany. Eliza has told me she refuses to move again, until it is into a house of our own, and for good.”
“My word!” Laurens laughed. “It seems you have traveled nearly as much as I have. I cannot tell you,” he added in a more earnest tone, “how much it grieved me to miss your wedding to the fair Miss Schuyler. We are of an age when we could have many more bachelor adventures together, and I am almost jealous of her new hold over you. But you are such a well-met pair, I cannot help but be happy for you. Her sensibility will rein in your passionate nature, and her beauty will counteract your hideous visage.”
Alex laughed at his friend’s joke even as he grimaced inwardly, thinking how his passion and Eliza’s sensibility had clashed so recently. He knew that Laurens was right, and that he needed someone to remind him that his responsibilities required more than enthusiasm. They required steadiness as well, and he knew that Eliza encouraged that quality in him. Nevertheless, he did not relish another clash of the kind they had before he left.
Aloud, though, all he said was, “I look forward to the day when I shall see you as happily married as I am, to a girl equally as sensible as Eliza, if not quite her equivalent in beauty.”
“Let’s hope not!” Laurens scoffed. “I cannot imagine the woman who could put up with such a selfish hedonist as I, nor can I imagine what I would do with a wife!”
Alex guffawed. “And what would a lady do with the likes of you!”
“But come now,” Laurens continued. “Let us hurry to headquarters so you can present yourself to General Washington, and then we can get down to the serious business of drinking!”
“Indeed,” said Alex. “Perhaps it is easiest for me to find you there. I have to take the coach, which does not seem to be in evidence.”
“What? Do you not want to ride your horse?”
“My—” Alex looked up and down the wharf, but there was only one other horse visible, tied up farther down the rail. It was a well-built animal, though, it was no horse he’d ever ridden before.
When he turned back to Laurens, however, his friend’s face was beaming, and he was nodding at the beautiful chestnut stallion nearer to hand. Still, Alex could not quite believe what seemed to be happening.
“I-is this not your horse?” he stuttered.
“It was until you stepped off that gangplank. I saw it two years ago when I was down at Mepkin. It was just a yearling then, but its russet tones reminded me a little of you. I told my father that if it fulfilled the potential it showed then, I should like to present it as a gift to you. When I arrived back home and saw how fine an animal it had become, I almost regretted my generosity. It is not the largest horse my father has ever bred, but it may well be the most beautiful.”