Major Lord David

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  “‘Tis delightful to have a picnic here in the country, David,” Hayden remarked. “But might I trouble to inquirewhere we are goin’?”

  Billie felt David’s attention to her profile and turned to look fully at him.

  “Where were you going before you came upon me?” he asked, though he looked only at her.

  “‘Came upon’ you!” Ephie protested. “Surely you know we’ve been searching for you?”

  “Have you?” His gaze held Billie’s captive. “Am I to call you `sister,’ then?” he asked softly.

  “You are precipitant,” Hayden drawled. “The Times’ announcement is scarcely out”

  “How curious, Myles. Here I thought you precipitant.” He did not appear amused as he looked across at Hayden. “You must know it’s a demnable thing to hear in the midst of a war.”

  “I’d have thought it demnable to hear at any point. But you must know that it is nonsense”

  “Fine. Then why?”

  “Dumont.”

  “Ah!” He looked down at her then, his face very close, and suggested, “You and I are fond of carriage rides, are we not?”

  At the reminder of the New Year, Billie blushed. She was, she knew, exceedingly fond of him. But she could not tell him so just yet-not within hearing of the others, who seemed to have endless questions. She did convince herself that David leaned immeasurably closer, that his left boot pressed against her skirts, and this time she did not object.

  They turned at the next crossroads and found their way as quickly as possible back toward the north and east, speaking all the while of Waterloo, of men lost and saved, of actions wise and less so, and at last of Hougoumont. As they shared information, David’s mood became increasingly grave. Billie wished to touch him; she wished to be only with him. She had to concentrate on sitting straight on the rickety wagon seat.

  “Wellington’s said that if Hougoumont had not held,” Knowles prompted, “there would not have been a victory.”

  “I would not dare dispute him,” David said. “Though every effort counted. ‘Tis certain we fought as though that were the case. ‘Twas a very bitter business, indeed. I was never as weary in my life!” He paused. “Someday I must find that boy.”

  “What boy?” Billie asked.

  “Why, Guillaume, my little savior. I called him Billie.” His glance indulged her. “He stayed with me that first night and ran to the Beaulieus’ wagon to have them collect me before dawn. They had some other French wounded they placed with friendly families, lest they be taken prisoner. The Beaulieus’ farm had served as a staging area for French artillery the day before battle. Beaulieu was, as I said, out to see what he might gather; the boy must have triggered some itch of sympathy, or else Beaulieu hoped my teeth were of marketable ivory!” David smiled broadly, displaying them. “Guillaume stayed with us only a day, but long enough, apparently, to convince them I was French. That boy had a head on him! I was not in my right senses, you understand. He must have departed soon after Wellington passed through to Nivelles. Little Guillaume could not have been more than twelve.”

  “Twelve! That is terribly young to be at war!”

  “There is no good age, Miss Billie. Guillaume’s only weapon was a drum. And as I remember it, you must have been about twelve when you decided to shoot your neighbor.”

  At that she stayed silent. She thought she heard Ephie titter behind her.

  When they entered Brussels the sun had just set. At the hotel, Barton met them with joy. He and Hayden and Knowles spirited David off to the gentlemen’s single room, to claim a wash and a coat. Billie felt in need of considerable repair herself. She had been sitting for some hours next to David in the wagon, and in all that time she had said very little. But she had felt much. She knew her own anxiously awaited interview was at hand.

  Ephie was silent as they changed for dinner, but Billie found her aunt’s many assessing glances annoying. “Do say what you wish to say, Auntie,” she challenged at last.

  “I doubt that I need say anything, Billie. When one is given a second chance-or, no, I believe it is a third chance-one is usually aware of the fact”

  “Yes, one usually is, Ephie.”

  And Ephie, smiling in satisfaction, preceded her downstairs.

  In the dining room, David stood alone at the end of their table. As it was still early, very few guests were down. Billie noticed that he now wore a dress coat, but the substitution for his uniform scarcely signified; the coat suited him equally well.

  “This is Hayden’s,” he told her, noticing the direction of her gaze. “In the usual course, I am too stout for his wardrobe. I must commend him for his discipline in diet.”

  Billie suspected her smile was rather wan.

  “You will regain your health quickly, I am certain, Major,” Ephie said brightly, but her own smile soon slid into a frown as she glanced about her. “Do forgive me. I seem to have left my reticule upstairs. I shall be back directly.” At once she turned and left them.

  David drew out a chair and offered it to Billie. As she sat down, he took the seat nearest her. She noticed that his rough muslin sling had been replaced by one of crisp white linen.

  “Barton appears to be a most attentive batman,” she remarked.

  “Indeed. Between Barton and Hayden’s man, Phipps, I am very well set up. But I must be back in uniform, and on duty, as soon as possible. Barton has gone for my trunk just now.”

  “But you are wounded!”

  He smiled. “I am also a commissioned officer, in an army at war. I have not been given my conge, Miss Billie. I am absent without leave-a malingerer. My superiors have every right to have me flogged”

  “You jest with me,” she said sharply. “Surely, under the circumstances-”

  “Yes,” he agreed, and Billie was suddenly aware of how close he sat, “the circumstances are extraordinary.” His eyes looked very blue in his pale face. “I could use another day’s rest”

  “A day!”

  “It has been an exhausting time, you’ll agree,” he said, choosing to misunderstand her, “and one that has brought almost as much tragedy as joy. So many good men, so many friends are gone… ” He paused, his gaze darkening. “Well, I must write letters-now-tonight.”

  “I should like to hear,” she offered softly, “when you wish to speak of it.”

  “And I should like to tell you-no doubt to the point you grow weary.” He grinned, which erased the sober set of his features. “But first, I am glad to have this moment alone with you-Billie.”

  She wished they were not so publicly situated; she wished they were not seated here in such a fashion, when she could think only of the dark stairwell in her aunt’s London home. The hotel’s guests, though understandably somber, tended to be loud in their efforts at exchanging news.

  “You never told your father that you’d thrown me over,” he continued, his gaze steady on hers. “Hayden says Sir Moreton was shocked by the sudden … transfer of your affections.” He tapped the fingers of his right hand upon the table. “Why did you not tell your father?”

  “You were away. It hardly seemed to matter. I had no interest in anyone else. What difference could it have made?” She thought her own voice a bit too strident.

  “You made no response to my letter. Because of the business with Hayden?”

  “I am very sorry for that, indeed. I meant to respond. But I thought I would have more time. I had no expectation that you would be called to action when you were”

  “Nor had we”

  “But it was no excuse. Not after your perfectly fine letter. I ask your forgiveness.” He smiled but did not comment, and Billie glanced over her shoulder at the increasingly crowded dining room. “This is dreadful,” she said, dismayed. “I wish we were not here!”

  David shrugged. “‘Tis where we happen to be. Don’t think on it. Or better yet, recall your stand at the Sanderses’ that evening, and resolve to weather it. The audience is nothing.” In his gaze she read the instant
that he recalled their New Year’s kiss. “In fact, I am tempted,” he hinted mildly, “to repeat myself-with a most public display.” Though his blue gaze entranced her, though she had wanted to kiss him all afternoon, she shook her head. Ephie would be back.

  “Ours is not a simple affair, is it, Billie?”

  “No..

  “And yet, it might have been. Very. We might even have been married months ago. And then I doubt we should even have been here in Brussels.”

  “‘The world is too much with us,’” she quoted softly.

  He smiled. “Perhaps now we might set it aside? I’ve told Hayden,” he added firmly, “that you’ve cried off.”

  “Shall I call you presumptuous?”

  “You might call me whatever you wish, my dear. But a woman should not look at a man as you look at me-then marry another.”

  “You are presumptuous!” But she could not help her own smile.

  He reached inside his waistcoat pocket. Pulling forth his fist, he opened his palm to display two items-a musket ball and a small, sharp arrowhead. The latter looked like what it had been-a child’s deadly toy. Billie’s lips parted as she glanced first at the arrowhead and then up into David’s face.

  “Years ago,” he said, “my father’s surgeon dared not remove it. The Beaulieus’ quack cousin had no such qualms. I suspect he cared less for my life.” As Billie reached to touch the items, his warm fingers closed on hers. “Oddly, once the token was out, I knew I should never be free of it. And the ball could not harm a heart already lost-to you, Billie Caswell.”

  She could not seem to draw breath.

  “‘Tis why I shot at you,” she choked out.

  “Little savage.” His hand tightened upon hers. “You might have killed me.”

  “Are you-are you in much pain now?”

  He shook his head. Billie knew that their close tete-a-fete, the touch of their hands, drew fascinated attention in the busy dining room.

  “Ephie has been an unconscionably long time….” she said.

  “I cannot agree. Your aunt is like the very finest officers, hanging about only when one needs them.”

  “You mean that she purposely stays away?”

  “I believe so” He leaned closer. “Billie, if I must go on to Paris, will you wait for me?”

  “To Paris?” She shook her head. “No.”

  “Ah!” He frowned, but the clasp of his hand did not ease. “Have I misunderstood, then? When you did not write-”

  “I cannot bear all the waiting,” she said in a rush. “I have waited all spring. I will not do it! You would not suffer it. Why should I?”

  His features relaxed. “I certainly will not suffer it! Which is why Hayden has gone for the bishop.” At her questioning gaze, he added, “He is very good at this sort of arrangement”

  “The-bishop?”

  David laughed. “One certainly hopes so! But no, I meant that Hayden has done this before-hurried a wedding along. Do you recall, dearest, the tune you played for me at the New Year? The `Soldier’s Delight’? I told you that it referred to home. I have determined that you are my home, Billie. My home, and my happiness. I would have you with me always.” His clasp tightened.

  Conversation in the rest of the room had grown to an enveloping hum. Billie now scarcely noticed the noise. Having waited so long, she saw only David.

  “There is a chance,” he added, “that I might take a regiment out to India. If I do, shall we have your brother Kit along with us?”

  The offer dazed her. “You would do that? For him?”

  “I would do it for you”

  As she moved to place her trembling right palm atop their clasped hands, he startled her by abruptly withdrawing his own. Sliding from his chair, he knelt on one knee before her.

  The dining room instantly hushed.

  “Billie-querida,” he urged, “would you do me the very great honor?”

  She held his intent gaze as she rose. “I fear you will miss your dinner, Major.”

  “I am not hungry.”

  “Then … there is a waning moon tonight.” She fought a smile. Memories of Ephie’s stairwell ruled her mind. “It is quite dark out-of-doors. I would welcome your escort” She extended both hands to help him up.

  As he stood, his look held laughter. “Brave Billie,” he said, pulling her close, “you will have to marry me now.”

  And they stepped together into the warm June night.