“Corporal Painter,” Grant called.
Wellington’s orderly appeared at the door.
“Show Captain Moreau to the tent behind mine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, Lieutenant Aston, come on in. The general has invited you to have supper with us.”
“Oh, no, sir, I couldn’t,” Val protested. “I am filthy and not at all fit for a general’s table.”
“Lord Wellington will not be surprised by your appearance, I assure you, Lieutenant.”
Val scraped his boots and slapped at his jacket and trousers before entering the house. He could feel his chapped face and hands begin to burn from the welcome but sudden warmth from the fire.
“Come in, Lieutenant, come in.”
It was only a small gathering, and not all the members of Wellington’s “family” were present. But Major Gordon was there and Val was relieved to see a friendly face.
“I apologize for interrupting your supper, my lord.”
“Nonsense. Captain Grant’s orders take precedence over my soup. Now what is it he’s brought us, Colquhoun?”
“A few pieces of paper with nothing of particular importance in them. Nothing we didn’t know already,” said Grant, passing the first packet over to Wellington.
Val’s heart sank. All that effort for nothing. It happened often in reconnaissance work, of course. He knew that by now. More than half of what was captured was known already. But to interrupt Nosey’s supper for it!
“On the other hand, what was hidden in the saddle is very valuable,” Grant continued with a warm smile directed at Val. “It would appear to confirm our suspicions that someone is in close communication with the French about the political situation at home, my lord. This is directed at Bonaparte. Massena assures him that after your retreat into Portugal, all he has to do is wait for the government to fall.”
“Which will likely happen if a Regency is declared, my lord,” said Major Gordon. “We all know how fond the Prince is of the Whigs.”
“He also assures Napoleon that the French people are full of confidence in their general and chief.”
“I should only be as secure in my government’s confidence, Major Gordon,” said Wellington with dry humor. “They continue believing a dead man’s opinion over mine. Poor John Moore should only have had such respect when he was alive, eh, Captain Grant? I keep telling them I can hold Portugal. But I must confess,” he added with a sigh, “I had expected the French would have been starved back to Spain by now.”
“Massena is holding on because of this information being fed him, my lord.”
“Well, we are snug behind the lines,” said Wellington calmly as he cut a piece of pork into small pieces and ate it slowly and deliberately. “And if we must eventually leave, then we will leave like gentlemen, out of the hall door, not the back door.” He took a sip of wine and looked over at Colquhoun Grant. “You will determine who is sending this information, will you not, Captain?”
“Of course, my lord.”
Val was extremely grateful that Captain Grant did not add, “I’ve got Lieutenant Aston working on it,” given his lack of progress.
“Tell me about this French officer, Lieutenant. How did he plan to make it across Spain?”
“He was carrying clothing in his saddlebags, my lord. It appears he was going to disguise himself as a Spanish peasant. He was lucky that when I caught him he was in uniform.”
“You sound a bit hoarse, Lieutenant. I hope you are not ill? The wine should help,” added Wellington, gesturing at Val’s glass, which stood untouched by his plate.
Without thinking, Val brought his hand up to his throat. “I am not ill, my lord…. I, uh, suppose it is a result of the Frenchman’s attempt to choke me, my lord.”
“What is this, Lieutenant? You were the one taken by surprise!”
Val blushed. Wellington’s tone was humorous, but Val suspected there was a certain amount of displeasure behind the question. “I had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, my lord. But I had nothing on me that would have benefited the French, had he succeeded in taking me.”
“That is a relief. And I suppose you are to be complimented if you were able to turn the situation around.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Val almost added, “I think.”
He excused himself from cigars and port, pleading exhaustion. After he left, Wellington turned to Major Gordon. “So that is the young man who rescued Elspeth. He is obviously a good hand-to-hand fighter, eh? And lucky that he is so, or he would be sitting in a Frog tent at Santarem,” he added with a smile.
“Lieutenant Aston is one of my best men, my lord,” said Grant. “Actually, it is he who I have working to uncover the traitor.”
“Are you sure a man of action is the one for such a delicate task, Colquhoun?” asked Major Gordon.
“Absolutely. Don’t be misled by his rough appearance, my lord. He has brains as well as brawn.”
“There is something very familiar about him,” mused Wellington, absentmindedly fingering his nose. Colquhoun ducked his head to hide a smile. “His beak is almost as prominent as mine,” the general added. “I know of only a few men in England who could say that,” he added, his eyes twinkling. “One of them is Charles Faringdon.”
“Lieutenant Aston’s father, sir.”
“Indeed! Does Charles recognize him?”
“The lieutenant isn’t very forthcoming about his background, my lord, but I surmise, from the little I’ve heard, that it is Mr. Aston who rejects the connection. Or until recently. It was the earl who purchased his commission.”
“How long has he been in the army?”
“Twelve years, my lord.”
“You mean he has spent twelve years in the ranks!”
Colquhoun glanced over at Ian Gordon and raised an eyebrow. Wellington’s attitude toward his army was a paradoxical combination of personal disdain for the rank and file and a high regard for their safety. As a man he had no affection for the common soldier; as a general he avoided throwing them into unwinnable battles, for as he had once said, “We only have this army and we must take care of it.”
Because of this, the men put their trust in him and were willing to follow him anywhere, thought Colquhoun. Warmth and affection might endear you to your men, but it didn’t always save their lives the way Wellington’s cold but strong sense of responsibility did.
Chapter 9
The news of the captured French officer was all over the camp by morning. Elspeth heard about it from her father at the breakfast table. She was surprised at the pang of anxiety she felt as she listened to her father tell the story. Lieutenant Aston could so easily have been overcome and ended up as a prisoner himself, she realized. Any exploring officer ran that risk daily, she told herself. But Lieutenant Aston was a friend and it was natural she should have some concern about him.
But when she met the lieutenant later that afternoon on her way back from camp, she found herself trembling in relief at the sight of him, hale and whole, and then chided herself for her reaction. Lieutenant Valentine Aston was certainly a man who could take care of himself and where on earth was her excessive sensibility around him coming from?
“Good afternoon, Miss Gordon,” he said politely.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I hear from my father that you have had another adventure, sir, and come out the hero again.” Elspeth tried to keep her tone light.
“Not exactly, Miss Gordon,” Val told her dryly. “The Frenchman surprised me and I was damned…I beg your pardon…very lucky to have been able to turn the tables on him.”
“My father tells me the dispatches you discovered were very important.”
“They were,” said Val, “but I would not like to think they would become common gossip, Miss Gordon,” he added gravely.
“I assure you, my father has shared information with my mother and me over the years and none of it has become gossip, common or otherwise. Good day, Lieutenant.”
“But you did, whether you meant to or not, Lieutenant.”
Val let her go and ran his hand through his hair. “I suppose I did,” he admitted, “but more as a warning than an insult, I assure you. I don’t see you as a foolish woman, Miss Gordon. But secrecy is of the greatest importance in my work. I am sorry.”
Elspeth took a deep breath. She was not usually quick to take offense, but proximity to Lieutenant Aston seemed to keep her off balance. “I accept your apology, Lieutenant,” she said calmly.
“Will you also accept my escort back to the village?”
“Yes, thank you,” Elspeth told him with a smile.
They walked side by side for a few minutes and then Elspeth said, “The weather has become cold, Lieutenant Aston. I imagine in the mountains it must be quite bitter.”
Val gave her a rueful smile. “It is hard on the hands and face, Miss Gordon. I suspect I’ll be chilblained for the rest of the winter.”
“Do you think we will be here that long?”
“It seems that Massena is dug in, Miss Gordon.”
“I can imagine it must be nerve-wracking for the troops to be sitting in limbo, but I am glad that I don’t have to worry about my father for a while,” she added with a wistful smile.
“It must have been hard for you and your mother to be so close to danger all these years,” Val replied, the sympathy in his voice very obvious.
“It would be very much harder to be waiting at home, Lieutenant. To only know of a battle days after it happened, to have to wait for the casualty lists…. No, my mother decided long ago that it was worth every discomfort to have as much time with my father as she could.”
“Would you do the same, if you were to marry a soldier?”
“Of course. But given my advanced age, I am unlikely to marry anyone.” It was said humorously, but Val could hear an undercurrent of sadness in Elspeth’s voice.
“You sound so sure, Miss Gordon, but you are an attractive young woman and have surely refused many offers besides mine,” Val responded, keeping his tone light in response to hers.
“You are kind, Lieutenant, but clearly you have not moved much in Society if you think above-average height in a woman is a la mode.”
“You know I have not, Miss Gordon,” Val responded stiffly.
Elspeth stopped and put her hand on his arm. “I am sorry, Lieutenant. I was so caught up in my own concern that I forgot. I did not mean anything by my comment; I was only trying to be humorous about something that is somewhat painful to me. Although why it should be after all this time, I don’t know,” she continued. “After all, I have always been aware that a young woman who has spent most of her time with the army is unlikely to receive many proposals, but I wouldn’t trade my life for one in Society.”
“I don’t think you are overly tall. You are not, for instance, as tall as Mrs. Casey,” he added with a devilish grin.
Elspeth started to laugh helplessly and he joined her. When she finally caught her breath, she looked at Val and said, “Oh, dear, Lieutenant, if this is the way you give compliments to young ladies, I am not surprised you are alone.” When she realized just what she had implied, Elspeth blushed and attempted to stammer out an apology while Val just stood there grinning at her discomfort.
“You are just going to let me put my foot in my mouth even further, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”
“I was just curious, Miss Gordon, about what you would say next. You are correct, though. I have no, uh, entanglements of the female sort.”
Elspeth giggled. “No, uh, entanglements of the female sort! What a delicate way of putting it, Lieutenant,” she teased.
“Miss Gordon, you know I shouldn’t be having this conversation with a respectable young lady.”
“Yes, and you can see why I don’t belong in Society, Lieutenant. Because I find myself having conversations with men that young ladies do not have. I suppose it comes of growing up around soldiers. We become comrades and speak freely to one another, which does not happen at assemblies, I assure you.”
They were halfway to the village at a place where the path stopped climbing and began to go downhill.
“Come, Miss Gordon, shall we sit down and catch our breath?” asked Val, gesturing to a large boulder beside the path.
Neither she nor the lieutenant was really out of breath, thought Elspeth as she sat beside him. But she was happy to have an excuse to prolong their conversation. She felt that she had finally broken through his reserve and was feeling quite comfortable with him. The rock had absorbed some of the heat of the afternoon sun, which was still high enough to keep them comfortable.
“I think it is a shame that you have resigned yourself to spinsterhood, Miss Gordon,” Val said quietly, breaking their comfortable silence. Elspeth was suddenly very aware that they were sitting very close to one another, so close that their thighs were lightly touching. “A man would have to be a fool to overlook your courage and honor and honesty.”
Elspeth felt a warmth radiating through her that couldn’t possibly be from the late autumn sun.
“Thank you for those kind words, Lieutenant,” she said softly. “I would think a woman equally foolish who did not value the same qualities in you,” she added.
“I am content to live and die a soldier,” Val said lightly.
“That does not have to preclude a wife and children, Lieutenant.” Elspeth turned at the same time as he faced her.
“Of course not, but I doubt they are in my future. You, however, would make a wonderful wife for a soldier, Miss Gordon.” He said it with a sweet smile that softened his face in a way that went right to Elspeth’s heart.
“Has any one of your soldier comrades ever told you that you have a very…lovely mouth, Miss Gordon?” Val said softly.
Elspeth ducked her head and shook it. Val put a finger under her chin and lifted it. “A very…kissable mouth, in fact.” He reached up and ran his thumb by the side of her mouth. They both sat very still and then Val traced her cheek with his finger.
Was he going to show her that she did have a kissable mouth? Elspeth wondered. Was she going to let him? Of course she was, she thought, as unfamiliar but somehow recognizable sensations flooded her. But just as they were leaning in to one another, they heard someone coming up the path and drew back.
Val stood up quickly. “Someone is coming, Miss Gordon. Ah, it is Private Ryan. Perhaps you can escort Miss Gordon the rest of the way, Private?”
Elspeth could do nothing but nod and stammer a “Yes, of course, Lieutenant Aston. I don’t want to inconvenience you. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Gordon.”
* * * *
He had been going to kiss her, hadn’t he? Or was he just being kind? Yet he seemed so eager to get rid of her that of course he hadn’t been meaning to kiss her. Had she appeared to solicit a kiss? Was that why the reserved look was back on his face when he said good-bye? Elspeth blushed scarlet at the memory of their conversation. She had been much too frank. Perhaps he thought her free with her kisses because she was so free with words? But they had been so comfortable together. And then delightfully uncomfortable…delightful to her, at least. But she couldn’t know what the lieutenant had felt and was unlikely ever to find out.
* * * *
Val felt as though he had been ambushed by desire and was as shaken by it as by the French captain’s attack. He had been sitting there, quite innocently enjoying his friendly conversation with Miss Gordon, not even aware that she had gotten underneath his guard, and then he had turned to face her. The sun had been on her hair, revealing the glints of red hidden among the strands of brown. Her lips had been parted and he realized that her mouth was wide and generous and as tempting as a ripe summer berry. He told himself he was only trying to reassure her when he told her of her kissable mouth. But if Patrick Ryan hadn’t come up the path at that m
oment, he would have had to show her just how kissable she was, and that would have been disastrous.
But first it would have been delightful, he was sure, he thought with a sigh. And different. What would it have been like to share a kiss with a woman who hadn’t experienced many kisses—perhaps none? Of course, he hadn’t done a lot of kissing himself. Whores got right down to business. And he hadn’t spent much time kissing the other women he’d had. It could be a new pleasure, gently exploring Miss Gordon’s lips. Except that he would make sure it would never happen. They were unlikely to be alone together again, thank God. And he was off again tomorrow.
Chapter 10
The Light Horse Regiment arrived in camp two days later. As they rode in, Charles Faringdon, Viscount Holme, found it very difficult to keep his eyes front, he was so eager to see if he could spy Val. But his brother was nowhere in sight, and it was only hours later, after settling his men, that he was able to present himself at Captain Grant’s tent and inquire after his brother.
“Captain Grant.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Holme. Welcome to Portugal.” Colquhoun knew something of Val’s history after all their years of serving together and he knew the young man in front of him was responsible for Val’s commission.
“I was wondering if you might know where I can find Lieutenant Aston, Captain.”
“Sit down, Lord Holme. I have wanted to say thank you to the man responsible for giving me such an able officer.”
Charlie gave Grant his warmest smile. “I tried to get Val to accept a commission for years, Captain. I finally convinced him it would be very bad for one brother to be serving in the ranks when the other was an officer, though I do think he was finally beginning to want it for himself. Is he in camp?”
“I am sorry to say he is away, and probably won’t be back till tomorrow evening at the earliest. But I’ll tell him you have arrived as soon as he reports to me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
* * * *
It was hard to wait another day, but Charlie supposed he could manage after six years. The last time he had seen his brother had been when Val visited him in London before leaving for the Caribbean. Six years of keeping in touch by letter, and worrying from one missive to the next if he would hear his brother had been wounded or died of a tropical fever. Now, of course, he could worry about whether Val would make it back from his latest mission without being captured or killed. But at least they would see one another, face-to-face.
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