by Meara Platt
“What?” Marcus shook his head. “Have you been drinking?”
“No.”
“Leave him alone, Marcus.” Tynan ordered him a lemonade. “Are you sure you’re all right, squid?”
“I’m good.” He knew that Faith’s fortune was probably utter nonsense and she was safe now. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her.
Would she ever meet her dragoon and fall in love?
Why should he care?
CHAPTER TWO
Scarborough, England
August, 1815
FAITH BOSCOMBE STOOD on the edge of Dunn’s Hill, a small outcropping that overlooked Scarborough’s stretch of sand beaches and provided a scenic view of the small fishing town and the North Sea. Today was a particularly beautiful day, the breeze light, the sea calm and glistening, and the sun not yet at its blazing height.
Boats sailed in and out of the harbor, their white sails unfurled to catch the wind as they glided across the water.
Faith closed her eyes, allowing the sun to warm her cheeks.
She’d left her hair unbound this morning and felt it gently whip around her hips and shoulders. She’d brush it out and do it up properly once back home, but for now, she enjoyed the freedom and felt inexplicably exhilarated.
The fair had returned to Scarborough.
She turned away from the water and fixed her gaze on the meadow to the west. About twenty gypsy wagons were now drawing up in a circle on the grassy expanse where the village cattle commonly grazed. The cows and sheep had been penned elsewhere for the week to accommodate the expected crowd.
More tradesmen, peddlers and gypsies would arrive over the next few days to set up their stalls and tents now that the fair was back in town.
She touched her hand to the necklace she had put on this morning, needing to make certain it was still safely clasped around her neck. It was a dragon charm with a lapis lazuli eye. She’d worn it every day since the boy had given it to her.
She hadn’t thought of Sir Caleb in years.
What had become of him?
She couldn’t recall what he looked like, only that he had been very kind to her. He’d held her hand and watched over her until they’d found her governess. She’d been so foolish to run off the way she had. Goodness, anything might have happened to her if Caleb hadn’t been there to protect her.
She hoped she had properly thanked him. She supposed she had, for good manners had been bred in her at a very young age.
“Lady Faith! Lady Faith!”
She shook off thoughts of her Sir Caleb and turned to her maid as she approached. Poor Harriet was out of breath and her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the day and her haste in making her way up the hill path. “Oh, my lady. What are you doing out here? Your uncle has been looking for you everywhere. He’s quite agitated. You know how he likes his quiet. But the gypsies have arrived and now people will be coming from all the surrounding shires.”
“He knew this, Harriet. Why is he so overset?”
“He’s just received word that a regiment of the king’s guards will also be arriving this week. General Dundas has requested his help in putting them up.”
Faith shook her head and laughed. “Oh, dear. Poor Uncle Winslow. How will he ever survive all this excitement?”
Harriet was a pleasant, dark-haired girl only a few years older than Faith. She shook her head in mock dismay. “Tsk! You mustn’t jest at your uncle’s expense.”
“Very well, but he can be such a curmudgeon at times.” Faith locked arms with her maid as they made their way toward the meadow. Boscombe Manor, her home ever since her parents had died over a decade ago, stood just on the other side of the meadow. “I’ll calm him down. In truth, there will be little for us to do once the regiment arrives. We’ll invite the commanding officer to stay at our home, of course. As for his soldiers, the fair will keep them entertained.”
“Where will you put all those soldiers, m’lady?”
“I’ll speak to the magistrate about where to house them. Although they’ll prefer to camp on the beach, I think. We could also fit them on the grounds of Boscombe Manor, but poor Uncle Winslow would have an attack of apoplexy. All those men in tents pitched outside his window?” She gave a mock shudder. “And we needn’t hold a ball in honor of the regiment since my betrothal party at the end of the week will do for that as well.”
“Fine, you tell ’im you have it all in hand. He won’t listen to anyone else.”
Faith suddenly slowed her step as she passed one of the gypsy wagons. It was round and decorated with a feminine charm.
“Is something wrong, m’lady?”
“No, Harriet. I was just thinking back to the last fair that came to Scarborough ten years ago.” Her gaze lingered on the wagon and an odd sensation, not quite a tingle and not quite a shiver, ran through her. Was it the fortune teller’s wagon? Did Madame… she’d forgotten her name. Did she still have that red tent? Perhaps she’d merely let it from the man who ran the fair that year.
No matter, for the tent itself was not important.
She took a deep breath, recalling the woman’s cruel words. They brought her temper to a boil every time she thought of them. Well, things would be different now. She was no longer a helpless child. It was time to confront this fortune teller. She’d stop by there one day this week and have a talk with her.
Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but she wasn’t thinking merely of herself. She was worried about all the other little girls scared by her dire fortunes. “A dragon will eat you.”
“Lady Faith, did you say something?” Harriet asked.
“No, just muttering to myself.”
“Forgive my impertinence, but you’ve been acting strange all day. I know ye too well, my lady. Something is going on with you. I noticed it ever since you woke this morning. You’re…I don’t know. You’re different today. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
Faith shook her head and tried to dismiss Harriet’s concern. “As Uncle Winslow said, we’re used to a quiet life and now we have the fair and the soldiers and my betrothal. It’s all hitting me at once.”
They walked on, passing the last of the gypsy wagons.
Harriet glanced back, her gaze fixing on the wagon Faith had been staring at a moment ago. “I’m going to have my fortune told. I want to know who I’ll marry, Jem or Wills? Perhaps Matthew. But Robin is promising and so is Charlie Wainright. He’ll inherit his father’s butcher shop. He’s a little dull, but he’ll be a good provider. Maybe I’ll find me a handsome soldier.”
“Goodness, Harriet. How many beaus do you wish to have?”
“Oh, m’lady. A girl can’t have too many. But you have a beau, too.”
“Yes, Lord Hawley.”
“I don’t mean him. I mean him.” She pointed toward a man astride a magnificent black stallion at the edge of the meadow. “He’s been watching you. Did you not notice?”
“You must be mistaken. He’s in uniform. He may be one of the soldiers due to arrive this week. Perhaps an advance guard scouting out the fair.”
Harriet shrugged. “If you say so. But his eyes were on you, not on them gypsies.”
Her hand went to her necklace again. “Nonsense, Harriet. Why would he be looking at me? Let’s go home.”
CALEB STRODE UP the front steps to Boscombe Manor, his mind still on the girl with the flowing, honey-gold hair he’d glimpsed atop the hill earlier today. He’d watched her cross the meadow, too. Was it Faith?
Why should he care?
But he was curious to know what had happened to the girl with big green eyes who believed he was a dragon slayer. Lady Faith Boscombe was her name. He supposed his curiosity would be put to rest soon enough. She had told him she’d come to live with her uncle. It had to be Lord Winslow Boscombe.
Lord Boscombe’s butler led him into the elegant drawing room and announced his presence. “General Caleb Brayden of the First Kings Dragoon Guards, my lord.”
Boscombe was an elde
rly man, not quite portly but neither was he trim. His hair was gray and thinning. He walked with difficulty, requiring a cane. “Welcome to Scarborough, General Brayden. How long do you and your men intend to stay here?”
Caleb smothered a grin, for it was obvious Lord Boscombe wished to have them gone before the body of his regiment had even arrived. “Only a few days, my lord. I’ve come ahead on my own to make certain all is in readiness for my men.”
“Your men?” He gave a grunting harrumph. “You’re awfully young to be a general.”
“Lord Castlereagh and General Dundas are quite aware,” he answered smoothly. “It was a necessary battlefield promotion and I’ll likely be demoted shortly. Since your meadow is occupied by the fair, we hope you’ll permit us to set up our camp along your beach. We’ll be marching north to Newcastle by the end of the week.”
He nodded. “Then I shall not detain you. I’m sure you have much to attend to before your regiment reaches Scarborough.”
“Uncle, shame on you,” said a cheerful feminine voice from behind Caleb. It had to be Faith, and he was eager to see her up close. He liked the mirthful lilt of her voice and the gently teasing manner with which she addressed her uncle. “This officer has just arrived and you’re already kicking him out the door. Will you not offer him a cup of tea? Or accommodation in our home?”
It eased Caleb’s heart to know she was happy and called the manor her home.
He turned and saw the woman he had seen on the hill. He took her outstretched hand, bowing over it. Immediately, his mind went back to that long-ago day when she’d taken his big hand into her own tiny one and trailed her fingers along his life line.
Her hand was still soft and little compared to his big paw.
“Did I hear you mention that you’d come here ahead of your soldiers?” she asked when he released her and stepped back. “There won’t be any rooms available at the local inns. We’ll put you up here for the week, of course. I believe that is what General Dundas requested when he wrote to my uncle. They’re quite good friends, by the way.”
Lord Boscombe did not appear pleased. “Now, Faith. We mustn’t impose on the young man. Sir David won’t appreciate it.”
She arched an eyebrow and cast her uncle an indulgent but impatient look. “The young man is a general. I hardly think Sir David,” she said, referring to General Dundas, “will appreciate your rudeness to him or the men under his command. You will stay with us, won’t you, General–”
She broke off suddenly and stared at him. “Forgive me…I didn’t catch your name.”
“Brayden. General Brayden,” Caleb said, trying not to return her stare, but it was impossible to resist. Her eyes were as big and green as he remembered. She’d done up her hair in a fashionable style, an intricately twisted bun. But he preferred the earlier sight of her with her long hair free and flowing.
Either way, she was beautiful in an ethereal, faerie queen way…and it seemed he was partial to these magical beings.
She nodded. “Have we met before? I feel as though I know you.” She laughed softly and dismissed the notion. “Oh, dear. How rude of me. I’ve neglected to introduce myself. I’m Lady Faith Boscombe. Welcome to Scarborough. Despite my uncle’s scowl, you are indeed cordially invited to stay here as our guest. As for your fellow officers, I shall make inquiry of our neighbors. I’m sure we can find a few more rooms for them when they arrive.”
“You needn’t go to the trouble, my lady. We’ll be fine on the beach.” In truth, he’d be finer in a bedchamber close to hers. Even finer in her bed, but that was too dangerous to contemplate. His body was already responding to her nearness and not in any gentlemanly way.
She nibbled her lush lips. “But you’ll stay this evening?”
He nodded. “I’ll stay.”
One night with her was all he dared. He’d been curious to see her again, to know she was safe and happy. He was unprepared for the other feelings suddenly stirring inside of him. He could resist temptation for one night. Even if he couldn’t…no, he would. She was a lady.
“And you’ll join us for supper.”
It wasn’t posed as a question. She was doing her best to be a good hostess. “We are holding a ball on Saturday evening. Please do join us for that as well.”
Her uncle chortled. “It’s to be Faith’s betrothal ball.”
Caleb’s heart skipped a beat. She was young, hardly eighteen and already claimed? Of course, she would be taken quickly. “Congratulations, my lady. I wish you and your intended all the best. But I expect we will be pulling up stakes and riding to Newcastle on Saturday morning.”
“Well, the invitation is open should your plans change. Lord Hawley and I will be happy to have you with us.” She turned away and marched to the bellpull. “Do stay for tea. You’re not in a hurry to leave us right now, are you?”
He shook his head. “I only need to survey the beach before nightfall.”
“Excellent, I’ll show you around. Allow me to be your guide today. Have you ever been to Scarborough?”
“My family and I passed through here once years ago.”
“I love this town.” She sat on the settee and motioned for him to take the chair opposite hers. “I’m sure you and your men will enjoy it, especially now that the fair has returned to us. Which reminds me, once your men arrive and establish camp, make sure you set up a watch around your campsite.” She cast him a wry smile. “Although we have little crime here, who knows what unsavory sort the fair will draw? Also, we are a coastal town. Lots of little coves where smugglers pull in. Harmless smugglers, for the most part. But why tempt fate?”
She looked toward her uncle seeking his agreement.
“Indeed, General Brayden. I do hope you will turn a blind eye to any activity you notice along the beach.”
Faith coughed. “No, uncle. That isn’t what I meant.”
Caleb laughed. “I’m also from a coastal town. You needn’t worry that we’ll interfere with those…er, activities. My mission is to set up a hospital in Newcastle for our wounded and establish our temporary regimental headquarters there. I’ll leave your smugglers alone.”
Faith tipped her head toward him in confusion. “Temporary? How long will you be expected to remain in Newcastle?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The war has just ended, but the nature of man seems to be to battle his neighbor. I doubt we’ll be settled there for long.”
“I’m sorry,” Faith said with genuine sincerity. “It is the nature of women to want their loved ones safe at home. It must be very difficult for your wife.”
“I’m not married. Haven’t had the time for courtship.”
Faith was about to respond when the Boscombe butler wheeled in the tea cart. “Thank you, Fleming.”
She waited for their staid retainer to set down the teapot, cups, and lemon cake before continuing their discussion. “Of course, now that you’re home, you’ll have time to think about finding a wife…if you are so inclined,” she said while pouring him a cup of tea. “Although I suppose it is none of my business.”
She blushed as she poured one for her uncle and herself. “It’s just that you’re awfully young to be a general.”
He grinned. “Your uncle asked me the same thing a short while ago.”
She responded with a smile. “Curiosity runs in the family. You must have commended yourself brilliantly on the field of battle. Either that or you’re the wastrel son of a duke, but you don’t strike me as a wastrel.”
“Or as the son of a duke?”
Faith took a sip of her tea and swallowed it while holding off a chuckle. “Oh, that came out badly. I do apologize. You have the aristocratic bearing of a duke. But your hands are rough and calloused. You’ve fought alongside your men, probably led them in battle. You don’t look like a useless, pampered lord.”
He took a slice of the lemon cake, swallowing it in two bites. “The Braydens are military men. We were raised with love, but none of us were pampered.”
He nodded. “In it from beginning to end.”
There was something in the way Faith looked at him that swelled his heart. It felt as though no one else in the world existed but the two of them. Of course, it was ridiculous. She was about to marry another. But she made him feel as though the light in her eyes and delicate blush on her cheeks was for him alone.
“Will you tell us about it? That is, if it isn’t too painful for you to discuss.” She was leaning forward and he had her rapt attention. “We’ve read newspaper accounts of it, of course. But who is to know how accurate they are?”
He wasn’t keen on recounting any of his time spent battling Napoleon’s armies. However, there was something in Faith’s manner he found soothing. Most people who asked him about Waterloo were only seeking lurid details, but he could tell that Faith was asking out of concern for those who’d fought, hoping they’d soon be reunited with their families.
Many would not have these happy reunions, but he did not wish to tell her that. “We were several regiments strong, spread out across the battlefield. Our assignment was to push Napoleon’s forces back toward General Blucher’s Prussian forces. So that’s what we did. Cavalry charge after cavalry charge until we broke through the French line.”
Her uncle was also listening to his story. “What then? Did you fight them in hand to hand combat?”
He nodded.
Faith’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You did? How awful.”
“It is, but that is our duty as dragoons. We are cavalry, but also trained in infantry combat.” He shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to go into further detail. There was nothing noble about a life cut short or the sight of a man bloodied and his guts spilling out.
Faith surprised him by reaching forward and placing her hand over his. “General Brayden, did your regiment suffer many casualties?”
“Every dragoon regiment did. Ours no more than others. We were in the heart of the battle, often the first to charge the enemy line.”
