by Diane Gaston
He nodded. ‘I fear so.’
She dropped her head into her hands for a moment. ‘Why on earth did Edwin wish to work for Sidmouth?’
The captain rubbed his brow. ‘I have no idea.’
Marian felt as if her insides were shredding into bits. Her own cousin had been working against her. Not the captain.
He added, ‘Edwin never knew you were involved. I am certain of that.’
Would Edwin have cared? she wondered. At least the captain’s work with the Home Office had been grounded in his beliefs about government and law. Edwin had no such strong convictions. She doubted Edwin would have experienced any conflict over using her to get what he wanted. She believed the captain genuinely had. She, on the other hand, had been as single-minded as Edwin.
Marian’s thoughts and emotions were a jumble. ‘I risked too much, did I not?’
He searched her face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I was outraged by the government’s neglect of the soldiers, so I planned something grand to show they had better pay attention. I see it all differently now. I thought I was so clever, that I had thought of everything. My march would not be violent like Spa Fields. My march would succeed, unlike the Blanketeers.’ She paused. ‘I did not think of the cost, that men might be arrested and hung because of my vanity.’
He took her into his arms and held her close. ‘It was not vanity, was it? I would never doubt your loyalty to the soldiers.’
She nestled against him. ‘Do you think some men were arrested?’
‘I think they all scattered in the nick of time.’ His voice soothed her. ‘I see things differently as well. My work had as much to do with ambition as the lofty principle I espoused.’ He lifted her face with his finger. ‘Perhaps I am as vain as you are.’
She smiled and settled against him once more. ‘Well, I have learned my lesson. I will think of others from now on, not myself.’
‘You make it sound as if you are like Domina.’
They both laughed.
She felt him take a deep breath. ‘We need to get you home before anyone sees you dressed as a boy.’ He helped her rise and they walked over to Valour. ‘I will tell you that I am still ambitious, Marian. I still want to become an M.P., but not at any cost. It is now more important for me to do what is right. As my father said.’
She hugged him close.
He broke away, but she felt a camaraderie with him that surpassed even what they’d had in Belgium.
‘Come.’ He smiled. ‘I will take you home, then busy myself composing my letter of resignation.’
When he moved to help her mount Valour, she stopped him. ‘Wait a while before resigning from the Home Office.’
‘Why?’ he sounded surprised.
‘If you resign today, Sidmouth might blame this failure of the Horse Guards on you. Wait a while and find some other excuse to resign.’ She thought some more. ‘In fact, if anyone reports seeing you at the march, you must explain that you were the one who broke it up. That is the truth, and you might as well take credit for it.’
He gaped at her. ‘By God, you are scheming to rescue me again.’
Her brows knitted. ‘I was thinking of your desire to become an M.P. This must not ruin it. I could not bear it.’ Then she smiled. ‘And I do owe you a rescue or two.’
She threw her arms around him again, holding on tight and pressing her cheek against his chest. ‘I am so sorry, Captain. So sorry for doubting you. So sorry for the things I said to you.’
He lifted her chin. ‘Then perhaps you must make it up to me.’
‘How?’ she cried. How could she possibly repay him for what he’d done for her?
‘Marry me,’ he murmured.
Her eyes widened and she took a breath. ‘I will not marry you to make it up to you.’
He turned away with an expression of pain.
She clutched him to her, rising on tiptoe. ‘I will marry you because I love you, and nothing will stop me this time.’
An urgent sound escaped his lips before he crushed them against hers in a kiss that made her forget about spies and marches and everything but him.
‘Take me home, Captain,’ she whispered. ‘And never be parted from me again.’
Epilogue
1820—London
Marian took a seat on the bench in the back of St Stephen’s Chapel. Mr Yost sat beside her in the place designated for members of the press who report on the proceedings of the House of Commons. She stared down at her knee breeches, stockings and boy’s shoes. Yes, she would pass as a boy once again. No one would remark upon Yost bringing an errand boy with him.
She glanced around the room and thought of how much had changed in the three years since she had organised the soldiers’ march.
She’d never had any reassurance that her march made any impact at all. No news of it ever reached the newspapers; Sidmouth had seen to that. Still, she had to believe someone had read the petition; someone must have realised the significance of ignoring the soldiers’ plight, of what soldiers could do if they chose.
In three years not enough had changed, but Marian had not lost heart. Her very reason for sneaking in to the Commons showed she continued to have hope. She kept to her promise to abandon grand schemes, instead now using her money to invest in ways to help individual soldiers find work, or to fund relief.
Other things had changed as well.
She glanced over at Yost, making notes on a sheet of paper. He had begun reporting on Parliament’s activities for a new daily newspaper, one with neutral political views. He refrained from writing seditious material, now that he had a wife and twin sons who depended upon him. Marian smiled when she thought about how blissfully happy Blanche was to be Mrs John Yost.
Blanche still worried about her excessively. Her brow had creased in worry when Marian told her she intended to dress as a boy and accompany Yost to this place.
It was forbidden for women to attend these sessions in the Commons, but Marian had been determined not to miss this day. It was said that Caroline Lamb once disguised herself as a page to witness her husband’s speech at the opening of Parliament. If Lady Caroline Lamb could do so, so could Marian.
This was the day Marian’s Captain—her husband—now Mr Allan Landon, M.P., would make his maiden speech in the august body.
Her gaze took in the room with its wainscoted walls. It seemed dark and exclusive, a place where important things happened. The lavishly gilded Speaker’s chair and majestic columns only reinforced this impression. In the spectator seats she spied Jack Vernon, now a successful portraitist, and Gabriel Deane. Gabe winked at her and grinned.
A door opened and suddenly the benches began to fill with countless important-looking gentlemen, and Marian shivered in anticipation.
Finally her captain entered and took his seat. Her chest swelled with pride. He’d denied being nervous, but she’d known he must be, just as she knew he would deliver an impressive speech and set the tone for what she was certain would be a great career in Parliament.
As he promised in his campaign, he would advocate for an improved pension programme, employment and housing for England’s soldiers. Ironically, it was his passion for helping the soldiers that helped him get elected in a Whig stronghold; his brief stint at the Home Office was not held against him.
Yost took notes during other speeches and business, but at last the time had come.
The captain stood and walked to the front of the chapel.
‘Mr Speaker,’ he began.
Marian could not help but rise from her seat so she could see better.
‘Members of Parliament…’ His gaze swept the crowded chapel, but suddenly halted.
His eyes caught hers.
She would undoubtedly be in for a severe scold from him for this latest escapade. It made not a whit of difference to her. Nothing would have stopped her from being present to see and hear him speak. Nothing could make her regret it.
But she held her breath.
‘Members of Parliament,’ he repeated. ‘I stand before you a wounded veteran, but one more fortunate than many, one whose life was saved—’ he looked directly at Marian ‘—and I will speak to you today so I may help other men who fought tyranny for you and now suffer…’
He had no illusions that one speech would create change, but it was a start. Marian’s heart burst with pride for him.
Who would have ever known that the lark of a foolish girl would lead to this day, this place, this life?
When his speech ended and several members cheered, her applause was the loudest of all.
Author Note
The soldiers’ march depicted in the book is a mere figment of my imagination, although the plight of the soldiers after Waterloo was real enough. The Blanketeers and the Spa Field Riots did occur and Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary, was accused of hiring provocateurs to cause the trouble at Spa Fields. Henry Hunt was a genuine liberal orator, but Mr. Yost did not really exist.
Today we take for granted the freedom to criticize the government and demonstrate for causes, but with the Seditious Meetings Act of 1817, it was illegal for groups of more than fifty people to gather together. It also became illegal to write, print or distribute seditious material. Lord Sidmouth had been a strong advocate of these measures, but they proved to be a blight on Lord Liverpool’s government and ultimately ushered in a more liberal Tory government in 1822.
Next in my Three Soldiers series is Gabriel Deane’s story. From the moment he, Allan and Jack rescue the Frenchwoman from Edwin Tranville at Badajoz, Gabe is captivated by her. When he meets her again in Brussels they begin a scorching affair, but when Gabe asks her to marry him, she refuses.
Then they meet a third time in London….
Look for Gabriel’s story. Coming soon.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6608-1
CHIVALROUS CAPTAIN, REBEL MISTRESS
Copyright © 2010 by Diane Perkins
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
*Three Soldiers
