by Ella Edon
A tall, lean man wearing his regimental trousers and undershirt was sitting at his desk, reading a small book. He looked like he had shaven and had a haircut in the last hour, his jaw smooth and his white hair cut close to the nape of his neck. He liked to be kept clean and trim for everyone else.
Nathan stood to attention and saluted.
“General Sharpe, Sir.”
Steven Sharpe looked up, his expression registering surprise.
“Captain Reynolds. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important, Sir.”
Sharpe had known him for a long time. He would know when Nathan was rattled, and Nathan did feel rattled. Something was wrong back in London, and Nathan needed to know what was going on as soon as he could.
Sharpe stared at him, then closed his book and rose. Even at five-and-fifty years of age, the man was intimidating. He had been using his height of six-six to command a regiment for years. Nathan was tall at six-four but even he had to look up at Sharpe.
“What is it, Nathan?”
“I was asking if I could be granted leave.”
Sharpe arched an eyebrow. “Leave? You’ve never requested leave before other than when we’ve ordered it. We’ve practically had to kick you out of the barracks to take leave, even when we heard your father had died. I was beginning to think you hated England.”
“When you’ve got a mother like mine, can you blame me?”
Sharpe paused. Then he shrugged.
“I suppose not. Did you hear from your mother? Is she demanding that you come back and be the Earl of Brixton?” His mouth curved. “Be the nobleman you can never be?”
Nathan had to smile at that. Everyone knew he hated his new title.
“This time it’s something different, Sir.” Nathan brought out his mother’s letter from inside his jacket. He had dressed appropriately to meet the general. He held out the letter. “She says that she’s dying.”
“Dying?” Sharpe took the letter and his eyes scanned it. “I didn’t realize she was a doctor.”
“Our personal doctor apparently said she is dying.”
“You don’t believe him?”
Nathan shrugged. “He likes to pander to Mother’s whims. She’s a lot stronger than people believe. I think she uses the doctor to claim she’s unwell, so she doesn’t get pushed into something she doesn’t want to do.”
“Like what?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Sharpe glanced up at him. “You think this is your mother trying to get you home, so you can carry out your duties in society?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Explain.”
Sharpe was a clever man, and he listened to his officers. Nathan rolled his shoulders to loosen the knots that had been building.
“Something’s not quite right, Sir. She doesn’t write to me for over a year, and the last time we spoke was in anger because I wouldn’t stay after Father’s death. She wouldn’t let me know she was dying until after she’s in the ground, I know it. And now she sends me this, and it doesn’t read like her. It…” He tried to find the right word. “It doesn’t feel like her at all, more like she’s desperate.”
“That happens when you’re dying, and you’re scared.” Sharpe frowned. “But you don’t think she’s dying?”
“I think something’s going on and it’s frightened Mother enough that she needs me.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
Nathan knew what he wanted to do, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Still, he had to do it. He took a deep breath.
“She’s still my mother. I want to make sure she’s all right.”
“Understood.” Sharpe handed back the letter. “Well, I can put in a request for leave on your behalf and ensure your platoon has a commander while you’re on leave. I can’t do more than that. Things are quite tense right now, so you’ll understand if you can’t get it.”
“I understand.” Nathan rubbed his hands on his trousers. “I would rather be here fighting, doing something I’m actually good at, but I need to have my mind settled knowing that things are not as bad as they seem back home.”
“Understood.” Sharpe nodded. “Leave it with me. I should have a definitive answer by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
That was the best he could ask for. Now he just had to wait.
Chapter Three
It came quicker than he thought. Sharpe entered his tent a mere three hours later, his hat tucked under his arm. Nathan had been so engrossed in his own thoughts despite the book in his hands that he hadn’t noticed immediately. He stood and saluted.
“General, Sir!”
“At ease, Captain.” Sharpe ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve had to move a few people around, but you’ve got your leave. Starting first thing in the morning.”
Nathan relaxed. He had been hoping that would be the case. He very rarely asked for leave, and Sharpe had to know he wouldn’t ask unless it was important, especially since the thought of going home didn’t make him happy. Nathan was expecting something had to have happened, and something big. Vanity Reynolds was up to something.
“How long have I got leave for?” he asked.
“A month for the moment. But you need to write to me before the month is up to let me know if you’re coming back or you need your leave extended.”
Nathan didn’t want to stay any longer than he had to. He had been doing a lot of thinking and felt a month would do. He dropped his book onto his bed.
“Chances are Mother will want me to stay whether she’s dying or not.”
“And you don’t believe she’s dying.”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “The doctors themselves can’t tell if someone is dying until it’s about to happen, so how is she supposed to know? And…” He grimaced. “It’s not exactly tugging at my heartstrings. I’m not sure what to feel about it.”
Sharpe’s mouth twitched in a slight smile.
“Sounds like my mother-in-law. She keeps saying either come home or die, then I won’t be upsetting my wife so much.”
Nathan blinked. “She what? How did your wife take that?”
“My wife knows the risks, and she’s the one who keeps telling her mother to keep out of our marriage. The old bat doesn’t seem to understand where she’s not allowed.” Sharpe grimaced. “If I did end up going home, it would be to pack up my family and move them to a place where that woman can’t find them, just so they have some peace and quiet.” He put his hat on Nathan’s little table and folded his arms. “But, like me, you don’t have to do as any older woman in your family demands. You’re the Earl of Brixton. You’re in charge.”
Nathan snorted. “She may not be able to get me to do as she wants, but she can give it a good try. I’m thinking this is another ploy of hers to get me to come back.”
“Why not write back and tell her to stop?”
Nathan had wondered about that himself. But then he read over the letter again, and he knew that he needed to go home.
“I don’t know.” He gestured for his General to sit as he settled back down on the edge of his makeshift bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “But something’s not right, Sir. There was language in her letter that made me pause.” Nathan drummed his fingers against the knuckles of his other hand. “It’s best that I go back and make sure things are safe and well at home. It will put my mind at rest.”
“You don’t want to dismiss it and then receive news that something really was wrong.” Sharpe said quietly.
“Precisely.” Nathan relaxed. At least his commanding officer understood. He sat back. “I wonder what this means for me.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, am I still Captain Reynolds when I get back to London? Or do I have to take up the title of the Earl of Brixton?”
Sharpe smiled. “Well, you can be both, so you can choose how you want to be addressed. It shouldn’t be th
at difficult to decide.”
“It isn’t.” Nathan lifted his chin. “I prefer Captain Reynolds. Much better ring than Lord Brixton.”
“Then that is your call. In your position and your military record behind you, no one’s going to argue with you.”
“Mother will.” Nathan grunted. “I know she will.”
“And you can tell her that it’s nothing to do with her.” Sharpe tapped his fingers on the table. “What do you think she’s up to?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s something big. Something other than planning for her funeral.”
“Maybe…” Sharpe looked almost amused. “Maybe she’s found you a bride and is desperate for you to come back and marry.”
Nathan made a face and shuddered, which had Sharpe laughing.
“I didn’t realize you were so averse to it.”
“I’m adverse to being made to marry someone and it’s not on my terms. Mother knows that. I’ve refused to go home each time when she said there was a young lady who would be perfect for me.”
“Maybe she’s saying that she’s dying and covering up a meeting with a prospective bride.”
Nathan wouldn’t be surprised. It would be something that Vanity Reynolds would do. She always had to have things her way, and her image was everything. Having only one child who ran off to join the army as soon as he was old enough had to be somewhat embarrassing, which Vanity hid behind supposed pride that her son was serving his country. She had always wanted Nathan to settle down and marry as soon as possible, which had resulted in Vanity putting ideas into Lorraine Brooks’ head that Nathan had a fancy for her. Unfortunately, she had chosen a woman who had taken it without any proof and refused to believe that Nathan didn’t care for her at all.
Oh, God. Nathan shuddered. He hoped Vanity hadn’t decided that Lorraine and Nathan were destined to be together now that Lorraine was a widow. She had had children with her husband, so she would be able to provide more but Nathan felt nauseous at the thought of having a child with Lady Lorraine Chapman. His mother knew his thoughts on that woman. Lorraine was one of the reasons he was keeping away from London.
“She doesn’t have that control over me,” Nathan murmured.
“And what will you do if it’s to get you back for marriage?”
“Tell her no, of course.”
“And will she take the answer.”
Nathan shook his head. He knew Vanity wouldn’t take that answer. Not until he left the house and never went back.
“Besides,” Nathan added, fighting back a yawn, “I could use this time back home to my advantage. We still need to find this Mr. Black.”
Sharpe straightened up. Eric Black was a pain for all of them. For some months now, the British Army had taken upon themselves to remove children who had been caught in the crossfire and had those without any parents sent to England. From there they would be raised and given a home, integrated into English society. Nathan hadn’t been too sure about it from the beginning - they were there to stop France from becoming too big for its boots, not to play nursemaid - but he could see a lot of these children were terrified. They needed to be out of the war and somewhere safe. With things in turmoil in Paris, it was not a good idea to send them back with their own men. The Duke of Wellington had set this up, and nobody had argued with him.
Only lately, a lot of the children had disappeared. They had left with their group and then most of them, if not all of them, completely vanished by the time the ships docked in London. Secret agents had discovered a few of the sailors had been paid to give the children to someone who wasn’t a government official, although for what reason this man Eric Black wanted children from France was beyond anyone’s reasonings. But he was making them disappear and Nathan could only imagine what he was doing with these children. They were in a strange country, alone, and most of them couldn’t speak English. They were easy pickings.
Nathan knew if he had a child who went missing like this, he wouldn’t rest until he found them. But it had been three months since their first lead, and it was fading into nothing. Eric Black was like a ghost. Trying to get hold of him was practically impossible.
“What makes you think you can find him when our contacts haven’t?” Sharpe asked.
“None of them are me.”
“That’s an arrogant attitude to have, Nathan. You’re a soldier, not an investigator.”
Nathan glared at his commanding officer.
“Someone is stealing children that we’re getting out of a war zone. Somehow, they’re being taken out of our hands which means we have someone in our own ranks or in our own government who is in league with this man and his dealings. How can we trust those in the government running this case? What if one of them is involved?”
“How could they be involved?”
“He needs someone with the know-how and the inside knowledge. That has to be the government agents looking into this.” Nathan met Sharpe’s eyes with a steely gaze of his own. “It’s best if someone not so closely involved looks into it. It’ll keep me from being idle if I’m going to be in London for a month.”
Sharpe narrowed his eyes. He didn’t look very happy about Nathan’s decision. The one man who had managed to catch up to Eric Black had ended up being gutted.
“I could tell you to leave it to the secret agents on the Duke of Wellington’s staff, but I know you won’t listen to me. You’ll just do it anyway.”
“I will.”
There was no doubt about it. Nathan was going to do it. He had made a promise to one child, a little boy called Paul, that he would make sure the lad was given to a good family. Paul had been one of those children taken. Nathan felt like he had let Paul down, and he wanted to make it right.
“Just be careful,” Sharpe warned. “And document what you find. I don’t want you getting into trouble because you went in and accused an innocent man.”
Nathan smirked. “Not going to happen, Sir. When I find out who it is, I’m going to be more than sure.”
“Just in case, Nathan. And for your own protection.” Sharpe frowned. “From the letters we have received about this man, Eric Black is dangerous.”
Nathan could handle dangerous. If he could handle looking into the eyes of a French soldier determined to kill him, he could handle a man who stole children. In his mind, there was no comparison.
“Sir.”
Eric looked up. Davidson, his trusted manservant, was standing in the doorway to his office. His expression, as always, was blank, but Eric could see the gleam in his eye. That was enough for Eric to put his papers aside.
“What is it?”
“Baron Heavenly is here again.”
Baron Heavenly. Eric found himself smiling. That man was such an easy target. Clearly bad at cards despite his declarations and drank so much it was a wonder he could stand. It felt almost too easy taking his money off him. Eric had played against Heavenly several times once he realized that the Baron couldn’t play cards, but he was determined to keep playing. Now Eric had acquired most of Heavenly’s money as his own.
It was a thrill that Eric loved to indulge. He stood and moved to join his servant.
“Where is he?”
“Out on the main table.” Davidson’s mouth twitched in a tiny smile. “He looks like he’s ready to lose more.”
“Then let’s go and make sure he does.”
Every time Edward Heavenly came into the building, Eric made sure everyone from those who worked with him, to those who sat at the table with the Baron, knew that as soon as Eric turned up, he would play to win against Heavenly. They were to make it look like Heavenly had a stroke of good luck, lull him into a false sense of security. Then Eric would come in and take everything he possibly could.
It had been a while since Eric had come across such an easy mark. Heavenly didn’t even realize he had been played. He just came back for more when a better man would have bowed out.
Eric moved into the hallway and then turned into the main r
oom, standing in the doorway as he watched Heavenly with Baron Newton, another regular but someone who had a better sense of cards, who knew when to pull out. The young man dealing for them kept glancing at Heavenly, and Eric could see the play to make it look like Lord Edward Heavenly was winning. The dealers had been trained well.
“I thought he didn’t have enough money for this, Sir.” Davidson murmured. “What you’ve left him with wouldn’t be able to get him in the door.”
“He’s bartering with property now.”
