by Diane Gaston
He forgot about Valour. ‘What is it?’
She blinked up at him. ‘A list of the casualties from the battle. I found it under the bed.’
Where he had tossed it after reading it. Too many good men were dead. Too many maimed. Some survived at least. Gabe, for one. Allan was grateful Gabe had survived.
‘Domina’s betrothed is listed.’ Her voice wobbled.
They had not discussed the man for whom her friend had convinced her to run off to a battlefield. In fact, they had discussed nothing about the battle at all. Waterloo had sometimes seemed more like a former nightmare than a memory.
‘Was he killed?’ he asked.
She looked down at the piece of paper and nodded. ‘Domina told me so that first night, but it seems real to see his name on a list.’
Perhaps that explained the Fentons’ quick departure from Brussels. It made him slightly more sympathetic towards them.
‘I remember some of the others listed as well.’ Her voice went up a pitch as if she were battling emotion. ‘We attended many of the same social events.’
‘I am sorry for them.’ He was sorry any of them were lost.
She turned the list over. ‘At least Edwin is not listed.’
Allan felt a twinge of guilt. ‘I never asked about him for you.’ Possibly because he did not want Edwin near her.
She waved a dismissive hand. ‘I confess to having forgotten about him as well. I hope this means he is unharmed.’ She looked down at the piece of paper again. ‘It lists my guardian as missing.’
Allan had never searched the list for Tranville’s name. ‘Missing?’ Perhaps his body was never found. It happened sometimes. ‘This list was printed soon after the battle. It may not be accurate.’
She dropped the paper on to the bed. ‘I should not have read it. It brings back how horrible it all was.’
He sat next to her and put his arms around her. ‘Let us hope Waterloo was the last big battle.’
She pressed her face against his chest and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her on to his lap and tasting her lips once again. He just held her close, trying to content himself with as much.
She pulled away. ‘Enough feeling sorry for myself.’
He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. ‘Would you like for me to enquire about your cousin today? I can go out again.’
She gently touched his wounded shoulder. ‘You have already been out today. You mustn’t do too much.’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I am feeling rather fit.’
She sighed. ‘I would like to know if Edwin is in Brussels. I just do not want him to take me away before our soldiers are well.’
‘Then we will not allow him to do so.’ He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb.
Her eyes darkened and her lips parted slightly, pulling him towards her.
He caught himself. ‘I’ll go directly.’
Without another word or another glance back at her, he walked out of the room and back outdoors, making his way to the Place Royale.
He had walked too fast across the Parc of Brussels and was winded by the time he entered the regimental offices.
‘Are you fit to rejoin the regiment?’ the officer in charge asked him.
If he became winded by a walk through the streets of Brussels, he doubted he would be able to join a march. ‘Not as yet.’ Besides, he did not wish to leave Brussels yet.
The man eyed him sceptically.
‘I am looking for one of the Royal Scots’ officers,’ Allan told him.
The man looked down at his papers. ‘Who?’
‘Captain Edwin Tranville.’
The officer’s brows rose. ‘The General’s son? Why?’
‘I enquire for a friend.’ That was as much as he wished to explain. ‘Is he in Brussels?’
The man laughed. ‘Search the taverns. You will find him.’
Allan frowned. ‘Where is he staying?’
He jabbed his finger on a stack of papers. ‘I will have to go through this whole pile before finding that answer. Just search the taverns. It will be faster.’
Allan started with taverns nearest the Place Royale. The officer was correct. He found Edwin in the third place he entered, a nearby inn.
‘Oh, Lawd.’ Edwin looked up as Allan approached the table where he sat alone. ‘I heard you were dead.’
Allan’s greeting was just as friendly. ‘I, on the other hand, knew you would make it through without a scratch. Tell me, where did you go after we were dispatched with that first message?’
Edwin smirked. ‘My horse went lame. I had no choice but to withdraw to the rear.’
It was one of Edwin’s typical excuses and they both knew it.
Edwin waved his hand. ‘Well, sit down. It hurts my neck to look up at you.’ His words were slurred. ‘Have some beer. Belgian beer.’ He laughed and rubbed the scar on his face, the one he’d received at Badajoz. ‘It is not half bad.’
Allan sat, but ordered nothing. ‘I have been searching for you.’
Edwin put his tankard down with a loud clap. His jaw dropped. ‘Gawd. Do not tell me my father sent you.’
Allan straightened. ‘Your father?’
Edwin took another swig. ‘Just like him to send you, all sober and everything.’
‘But—your father was killed in the battle.’ He gripped the edge of the table.
Edwin lifted the tankard again and his voice echoed. ‘Not killed. Wounded. What do they say? Fallen in battle.’ He gulped down more beer. ‘Seems he was picked up again. Literally. He’s rusticating at the Hôtel de Flandres under the care of his loving mistress, a woman I despise, by the way. Her son, whom I also despise, was the big hero. Carried my father off the battlefield. Curse him! He’s been a thorn in my side since we were boys. Probably did it to keep me from inheriting.’
Allan could not believe his ears. ‘Your father is alive and in Brussels?’
‘I believe I just said that.’ He wagged a finger at Allan. ‘Perhaps you are not as sober as I thought.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘You require details?’ Edwin rolled his eyes. ‘He was struck down from his horse, his leg broken from a musket ball. He was quickly covered over, under other bodies, I suppose. Why that damned fellow went looking for him is beyond me.’
Allan glared at him. ‘You were disappointed he did not die?’
Edwin laughed and touched his scar again. ‘Oh, I did not wish my father dead, I assure you. I merely dislike seeing him in the clutches of that woman and her son. She’ll squeeze more money out of him, you mark my words.’
Edwin Tranville sickened him. He’d be damned if he told this drunken coward about Marian now.
There was no need. His father, her guardian, was alive.
Allan stood. ‘Are you also staying at the Hôtel de Flandres? In case I need to find you again.’
Edwin pointed to the ceiling. ‘I have a room in this very inn. Handy, I admit.’
Allan had enough. He gave Edwin a curt nod, before striding away.
Edwin’s voice followed him. ‘Wait! You did not tell me why you were looking for me!’
Allan left the inn and made his way across the Parc.
General Tranville was alive? This changed everything. He might be able to avoid informing Edwin of Marian’s presence in Brussels, but he could not hide it from her guardian.
General Tranville was legally responsible for Marian’s welfare. Most importantly, he could provide the protection Marian needed. Tranville could prevent any damage to her reputation.
The longer Allan remained under the same roof with her, the closer he came to completely compromising her. And even if he kept his hands off her, each day she risked it becoming known by some member of society that she was living unprotected in a household of men.
This might be her only opportunity to erase any harm their time together could cost her.
Even though it meant leaving her in the care of a man All
an despised.
The more Marian thought about it, the more she decided that Edwin had probably already left for England. It had been over two weeks since the battle. Certainly he would have tied up his army affairs in that time.
She was glad. If she were required to travel to England with him, it would stop her from seeing her soldiers recovered.
And would part her from the captain.
Their parting was inevitable, though. He grew stronger every day. Soon he would be required to return to his regiment. She dreaded the thought of it.
She climbed the stairway to the upper floors and knocked upon Corporal Reilly’s bedroom door.
‘Come in,’ he responded.
He sat by the window in a patch of sunlight, his arm bandaged and in a sling.
‘How good to see you up, Corporal.’ She smiled at him.
He struggled to his feet. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Pallant.’
She gestured for him to sit. ‘I’ve come with fresh linens.’
He lowered himself in the chair again, a frown on his face. ‘Doesn’t seem fitting for a lady such as yourself to be making beds.’
She pulled off the old linens. ‘Now you are sounding like Captain Landon.’
Reilly grinned. ‘He is a stickler for what’s proper.’
She laughed. ‘Indeed.’
He sobered again. ‘He is a good ’un, though. Brave as they come.’
She covered the mattress with a clean sheet and thought of him carrying a soldier out of the burning château and covering her with his body after he was shot. ‘Indeed,’ she repeated more softly.
‘I’ve known him since he was a green lad. Didn’t know the first thing about being an officer. He learned quick, though. Has lots of pluck, that one.’
She tucked in the corners of the sheet.
Reilly went on, ‘I remember when General Tranville ordered Landon and Captain Deane into Badajoz during the pillaging. His son was lost and the general thought he’d gone into the town.’ He paused and so did she. ‘Any road, a sane man would have removed himself from Tranville’s sight for a couple hours rather than enter those streets. Soldiers were deranged in there.’ He shook his head. ‘But, no, before you know it, here comes Captain Landon, carrying the general’s son over his shoulder.’
She finished smoothing the blankets. ‘That is quite a story.’ One the captain had never told her. She patted the bed. ‘There. Clean linens. Is there anything else you need?’
He stood and bowed his head. ‘I’m pampered enough. I thank you, Miss Pallant.’
Marian walked out of the room.
The captain had rescued her cousin? Another brave and wonderful thing to add to a list of many. Filled with pride for him, she hummed as she walked down the stairs. When she reached the hall, the front door opened.
The captain walked in.
Marian felt her whole body come alive. ‘Captain!’
His gaze rose to her. His expression was grim.
‘What is it?’ She turned cold. ‘Is it Edwin?’ Do not say her last blood relative was dead.
‘Where can we talk?’ Even his tone was grim.
She could think of nowhere to be private but his bed chamber. When they entered the room, he signalled her to sit and he closed the door.
Her heart raced painfully. ‘Tell me, please, Captain, is Edwin dead?’
He raised his hand as if to stop her. ‘He is unharmed, do not fear. He is here in Brussels. I spoke to him.’
‘Thank God.’ She pressed her hand against her chest. ‘I was so frightened.’
‘That is not what I must tell you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What then?’
‘Listen to me.’ He swallowed. ‘Your uncle. He is alive. He wasn’t lost, Marian. He is alive.’
‘Uncle Tranville?’ Her heart started racing again.
He paced in front of her. ‘He was found alive and carried off the battlefield after the battle was over.’ He frowned. ‘I do not know all the details. Someone known to him carried him out. He broke a leg.’ He waved a hand as if these details were of no consequence. ‘He is here in Brussels, recuperating.’
‘In Brussels?’ Marian’s mind whirled.
She must be glad his life was spared, mustn’t she? Even if she had no familial affection for him. She just did not want him here. She wanted nothing to interfere with her caring for her soldiers.
But, then, how likely was it that Uncle Tranville would trouble himself over her?
‘Perhaps you could call upon him,’ she said to the captain. ‘I should like to know if he is recuperating well or if he is in need of anything I could provide.’
His pacing ceased. ‘You must call upon him, Marian.’
‘I do not want him to know I am here.’
His brows rose. ‘He is your guardian. He must know you are here. He is responsible for you.’
She stood. ‘He cares nothing for me. For my aunt’s sake, I would like to know if he needs my help, but otherwise I prefer to have nothing to do with him.’
He gave her an even look. ‘He is legally responsible for you.’
She tossed her head. ‘What do I care for that? I am well able to take care of myself.’
He grasped her arms. ‘You do not comprehend. You are no longer a stranded orphan needing protection. You have a guardian who can assume your care.’
She tilted her head back so she could look him in the eye. ‘You do not comprehend, Captain. I want nothing to do with my uncle.’
He brusquely released her. ‘I must insist upon this. You must go to him. Place yourself in his charge.’
It shocked her that he would send her away. ‘I am needed here, Captain. We have men to tend, whose health and well-being are in our hands. I cannot leave them. Not for him.’
‘Marian, it is not for him. It is for you. If you are under the care of your guardian and his party, there can be no taint to your character.’ He spoke in an earnest tone. ‘Only the members of this household know what you have been doing and none of them will besmirch you. This is your only chance.’
Her insides twisted. ‘You cannot make me go.’
He pierced her with his gaze. ‘I must.’
‘Why?’ She felt close to tears. ‘Because he is your superior officer?’
Something flickered in his eyes. ‘No. Because this is the only way to preserve your good name and your future. No other reason.’
It still felt like betrayal. ‘You will give me no choice. You will force me.’
His eyes hardened again. ‘Yes.’
The captain took her that very afternoon.
The beauty of the Parc was lost on Marian as they walked through it to reach her uncle’s hotel. The tension between them clouded her vision to the green shrubbery, white statues and colourful flowers. All she saw were more injured soldiers sitting upon benches and resting beneath trees. Could they not take more men into their care?
Could the captain not see that she needed to take care of the soldiers? It angered and disappointed her that he considered the needs of the men less important than the preservation of her reputation.
Even more painful, being forced to stay with her uncle meant being parted from the captain. Each day she’d shared with him made it more like he was the very air she must breathe, essential to life. She knew eventually his duties to his regiment would take him away, but even a few more weeks, a few more days, would be more precious than the finest jewels.
In her daydreams they would meet again away from war, somewhere in England where he was free to choose being with her rather than feeling it an obligation. There he would court her and perhaps they could kiss without her feeling she had seduced him into it.
Perhaps then he would not find anything about her of which to disapprove.
Her mind filled with all the ways he disapproved of her as they continued across the Parc. It helped fuel her anger.
And dampen the pain of parting with him.
Too quickly they arrived at the elega
nt Hôtel de Flandres, and the captain enquired after her uncle Tranville. The hotel’s attendant showed them into a small drawing room to wait while he announced their arrival.
After a brief time a lovely woman entered the room. ‘Miss Pallant? Captain Landon?’ She extended her hand to them.
Marian did not miss the stunned expression on Allan’s face at the sight of this chestnut-haired beauty. She felt inexplicably jealous.
‘I am Ariana Blane,’ the captivating creature said.
‘Ariana Blane?’ Marian’s eyes widened in surprise.
Ariana Blane was the actress who had posed as Cleopatra in a scandalous painting that had been engraved and widely printed to publicise the play. When Marian left for Brussels, all of London had been clamouring for tickets to the performance.
‘I saw you play Juliet at Drury Lane,’ she told Miss Blane.
‘That seems a long time ago.’ Miss Blane looked wistful. ‘I am afraid we did not know of your presence in Brussels, Miss Pallant, or we would have sent word about your uncle. I will take you to him right away.’
As she led them out of the drawing room and up the stairway, the Captain asked, ‘Miss Blane, what connection do you have with Lord Tranville?’
She gave him a coy look. ‘I might ask the same question of your connection to Miss Pallant.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I am her escort.’
She laughed. ‘My connection is not so simple.’ She paused on the stairs. ‘I am betrothed to a man whose mother is a friend of Lord Tranville. When we learned Lord Tranville had been injured, she assumed his care.’
The captain seemed to relax.
‘How bad are his injuries?’ Marian asked, hating herself for hoping they were severe enough that he could not bother with her.
They continued up the stairs.
‘He has a badly broken leg and has just recovered from fever and an infection of the lungs,’ Miss Blane said. ‘He is weak, but much improved, certainly well enough to receive you.’
Marian felt a pang of disappointment.
They walked down a hallway and Miss Blane knocked upon a door. ‘Are you ready for us?’ she called.
The door was opened by a manservant, a man who looked familiar to Marian, but she could not work out why.
