Major Lord David (25 page)

Billie had to content herself with being jolted up against
David’s side. As this was his injured arm, she could not think
it equally agreeable to him. But still she sat as close as she
could, and he did not protest.

“I must be grateful to them,” he explained, his voice unsteady as the wagon bounced, “to the Beaulieus-whatever
their aim in rescuing me. They troubled to house two others,
French officers from horse artillery. I improvised and claimed
to be one of my French opponents-of Colonel Cubieres’s
troops at the farm. But I fear they began to suspect that I was
one of the reviled English. Too much staring at my best
boots-by Hobbs you know, Myles.” And Billie glanced at his
dulled and dirty boots. “Had they been Beaulieu’s size …
Well! I knew I had to convince them I was returning to service
or else resign myself to slow poisoning. Tell me-pleased as I
am to see you-how do you all come to be here? Hasn’t Boney
closed the roads?”

The question was greeted with such a profound silence that
David’s eyebrows rose.

“You mean you do not know”-Hayden’s voice cracked”that Wellington was victorious? That you won?”

Billie could feel David’s stillness. She could also feel the
constraint of being denied even the clasp of his hand.

“That old fox!” he fumed. “Beaulieu and his invincible Bonaparte! He’s been feeding us the opposite-that the French had a
great victory, that Bonaparte is in Brussels and collecting more
troops at the border. I shall go back and pummel him!”

“How can you look so happy, then,” Hayden demanded,
“thinking that you’d lost?” At David’s slow grin, Hayden
pointedly turned his attention to the road.

“Monsieur Beaulieu thought you French,” Billie said, forcing the words. She recalled with some impatience that David
had never before been disinclined to kiss her. “Perhaps he only
meant to buoy your spirits. Yours and the other two men”

“You are too kind to him, Miss Billie.” David’s close attention warmed her like sunlight. “The man was out looting
early. And you did not see the gleam in his eye! Tell me-the
Imperial Guard-defeated?” And David listened as the other
three narrated what they had heard: of Bonaparte’s vaunted
guard falling into confusion, how the French had broken and
run, how Wellington had signaled a general advance at dusk.
The Prussians had since poured into France on a vengeful rampage, and Wellington was proceeding to Paris, having passed
along this very road.

“He will not let up,” David said with satisfaction. Again
looking down at Billie, he asked seriously, “What of your
brother?”

“Kit does very well, thanks to you. He is walking, though
he contends with crutches.”

“And Lieutenant Athington?”

“Less well. He is cheerful, though still bedridden. He
speaks of frustration at not going on to Paris. Unfortunately,
he may lose his arm”

“I am sorry to hear it. His sister has my sympathies.”

Billie did not know how to respond.

“What of your own arm?” Hayden asked abruptly. “Shall
you keep it?”

“Oh, I hope so, Myles, as it’s my best boxing arm.” He sent Hayden a narrow glance. “‘Tis my shoulder that’s injured.
Fortunately, Madame Beaulieu’s cousin, professing some
medical training, stopped by for a meal on his way to Brussels. He removed a musket ball within that first day and left
Madame enough laudanum to dose me into the next decadeat least, I fear I shall be reeling that long. Apparently I also
suffered shock from a spent shell, though I’ve no memory of
it. The shame is that Madame was a wonderful chef. Aromas
from her kitchen kept me half wild with expectation. But the
laudanum deprived me of appetite as well as pain. I doubt
they’d have fed us much in any event, though the French officers endeavored to pay them…. That’s her bread you’re holding there, Knowles.”

Knowles promptly broke off a piece and proffered it to
Ephie, who pronounced it delicious.

“‘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.