Lily George - Healing the Soldier's Heart

INSPIRATIONAL HISTORICAL ROMANCE

The Soldier’s Homecoming

Ensign James Rowland was fortunate to return from Waterloo unscathed—at least in body. But guilt from that terrible battle has left him almost mute and crushed in spirit. Only in the company of sweet, compassionate Lucy Williams, a volunteer at the Veterans’ Group in Bath, does he begin to feel happiness is within reach.

Penniless governesses can’t afford dreams of romance. Lucy Williams is resigned to lifelong spinsterhood—until James enters her life. His mother opposes the match. Lucy herself is sure the chasm between their ranks is too wide. But now that she has helped heal James, he intends to overcome every obstacle between them…and emerge victorious in the battle for her love.

Lucy was alone. That made giving his gift of flowers easier. He caught them up and extended the bouquet toward her. “F-for you.”

“For me?” Her eyes widened. “How lovely they are. Thank you, Ensign.”

“James,” he insisted. “You should c-call me James.”

“Certainly, James. And you must call me Lucy.” She cast her eyes down to the table.

Could he truly win her affection? He needed to have more time with her, to learn the truth of her feelings toward him.

When the clock began chiming the hour, Lucy stood. “Oh, dear. I must get back to the schoolroom.”

“I w-wish you well in all your upcoming s-social d-duties, especially the b-ball,” he responded with a slight bow. “B-but I am sure you w-will even outshine M-Miss B-Bradbury.”

Something like amazement kindled in her eyes. “Do you really think so?” she breathed.

“Yes, I d-do.” Why was she so astonished? Surely she knew how very wonderful she was.

“Well, if that’s true, then you’re the only person in Bath who thinks so.” Her tone was quiet, and as she left the room, she tossed a little smile his way as though she tossed a blossom at his feet.

LILY GEORGE

Growing up in a small town in Texas, Lily George spent her summers devouring the books in her mother’s Christian bookstore. She still counts Grace Livingston Hill, Janette Oake and L. M. Montgomery among her favorite authors. Lily has a BA in history from Southwestern University and uses her training as a historian to research her historical inspirational romance novels. She has published one nonfiction book and produced one documentary, and is in production on a second film; all of these projects reflect her love for old movies and jazz and blues music. Lily lives in the Dallas area with her husband, daughter and menagerie of animals.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

—2 Timothy 1:7 (KJV)

For my family and friends, especially my husband and daughter, who continue to endure my writing so patiently.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

March 1818

Bath, England

Saint Swithin’s Church of England

Lucy Williams rolled her eyes at her friend in playful disgust. Sophie Handley had no idea how to flirt. That much was certain. For all her airs and graces, for all her pretty face and lithe figure, her friend had no real idea how to capture a man’s attention.

Why, they had come to Saint Swithin’s for Sunday services just so Sophie could meet up with a man she liked, and here he was—on the point of departure. And Sophie just fretted at Lucy’s side, murmuring how all was lost. Utterly ridiculous.

It was time to take matters into one’s own hands. Lucy tugged on her reticule, unclasping it from her wrist. Then, as the parishioners began to file out of the church, she pushed through the crowd, keeping Sophie close by. The sea of humanity parted, and she could just glimpse Lieutenant Cantrill, her quarry. A young man stood beside the lieutenant, his angular face a mask of misery. Lucy stopped short. Why was he so sad? Her heart skipped a beat. Surely there was no reason in the world for such a handsome man to be so morose.

Sophie made an impatient tsking sound, jolting Lucy back to her senses. ’Twas time to accomplish her mission. With a smart twist of her wrist, she sent the reticule flying. It landed with a satisfying smack right beside the lieutenant on the wooden floor. He bent at once to retrieve it, his interesting companion bending down to assist. The lieutenant picked up her reticule, his eyebrow quirked, and turned to look for the party responsible for launching such a cunning little missile.

Time to spring into action.

“Oh, sir!” Lucy sang out. “You found my reticule. How very good of you.” She hustled forward, tugging Sophie along behind her. “It was knocked clear of my hand by the bustle of this crowd.” She skidded to a halt before the lieutenant and his companion, giving both the confident smile that had won her a position as governess to Lord Bradbury’s daughters—no mean feat for a penniless orphan. Sophie stood beside her, pale and silent, her large blue eyes as round as saucers as she stared at Lieutenant Cantrill. Lucy jabbed Sophie in the ribs with her elbow, sending Sophie’s curls bouncing.

Sophie winced and, rubbing her side, began the rounds of introductions. But it was clear from the way she stood ever so slightly closer to the lieutenant than propriety allowed that Sophie wanted a chance to be alone with the lieutenant. Very well, then. Lucy had her own task to follow.

It seemed that the young man with the lieutenant was none other than Ensign Rowland—the soldier Sophie had mentioned to her a few days prior. According to Lieutenant Cantrill, Waterloo had left the poor man mute. He had, in fact, barely spoken a few words since his arrival in Bath. The lieutenant believed that listening to someone else read aloud might ease his condition and had asked Sophie to find someone to read to the ensign. Sophie had asked her to assume that duty.

She turned to the tall man who stood beside the lieutenant. His wide green eyes regarded her solemnly, yet a spark flickered in their depths. His sandy blond hair waved over his forehead in a stubborn cowlick. She resisted the urge to reach up and pat it down with a tender gesture.

“So this is Ensign Rowland? How do you do, sir?” Lucy took his hands in hers. They were warm and capable—as strong as a man in service might possess. Now, how could she broach her assignment without making it sound as though she pitied him or felt sorry for him? Perhaps if she made it sound as though he would be doing her a tremendous favor in helping her. Yes, that would work best.