Louise Allen - Regency Scoundrels And Scandals

Puzzled, she let herself be pulled up, swung a leg over the horse’s neck and found herself settled on Jack’s lap. Then, as he urged the gelding forwards again, pulling her back tight against himself, she realised what he was doing. If there was a sniper with them in his sights, it was now Jack’s broad back that would take the bullet.

‘Have you got anything white we can wave as we approach?’ Jack wrapped his arms round her waist and sorted the reins out.

‘Only my shirt,’ she retorted tartly, ‘And if you imagine I am going to go cantering up to companies of soldiers half-naked, you have another think coming, Mr Ryder.’ They were cantering, and she was still fuming before she realised what they were doing and then it was too late to be scared. ‘You wretch,’ she shouted, above the sound of the hooves. ‘You are trying to distract me.’

‘True.’ He sounded smug. ‘It worked, too.’

‘Can we gallop now, please?’ she demanded, trying to keep the shake out of her voice.

‘No, I want to give the troops ahead a chance to see who we are.’

‘Jack, I do not want you to get shot.’ Of all the daft things to say, she chided herself. As if he can help it if some sniper is sighting down his rifle barrel even now. He doesn’t need me wittering nervously at him.

‘Neither do I.’ Now he sounded amused, almost as though he was enjoying himself. Men were very strange creatures and being married to one, giving birth to one and having another as a lover did nothing to make them any more comprehensible. ‘Look, the piquet have seen us.’

They were closing with the white, buttressed walls of what looked like a large barn forming the western boundary of the château. Jack did not slacken their pace as they closed with the line of soldiers who were training their weapons on them.

‘Wave!’

Eva waved, then shouted, ‘English! English!’ as the black gelding finally skidded to a halt in front of the troops.

‘Who the devil are you?’ The Guards officer who strode forward stared up at them. ‘Good God! Raven—’

‘Jack Ryder, Captain Evelyn. We met in London last year at Brook’s, if you recall.’

‘Ryder? Yes, of course, forgot. What are you doing here of all places?’ The other man seemed ready to settle down to a thoroughgoing gossip. Eva stirred restlessly. She could almost feel the imaginary sniper’s hot breath as he sighted at the middle of Jack’s back.

‘Can we go inside? I am escorting a lady and I doubt she wishes to sit under the eye of our friends up on the ridge much longer.’

‘Yes, of course.’ The captain recollected himself. ‘There, through that gate. Swann, escort them. Oh, and Ryder, the Duke’s here.’

‘What did he call you?’ Eva demanded, trying to twist round as they rode through the narrow gate and into the barn. ‘Raven? Is that a nickname?’

‘A mistake, he has a poor memory. Do you want to meet the Duke?’

‘You know him, I suppose?’ Eva gave up for the moment; now was not the time to try to probe Jack’s reticence.

‘We have spoken.’ Jack sounded amused. ‘At least, I should say, he has barked at me on occasion.’

Their escort led them out of the other side of the barn into a courtyard. It was indeed a château they had arrived at, but a small one, more of a glorified farm than anything. Through another gate and they saw a group of horsemen. The figure in the cocked hat and black cloak could only, if the nose was anything to go by, be the great man himself. He was surrounded by a group of officers, all in earnest talk. Jack rode across and four faces turned to view them.

Eva saw eyebrows rising as they took in the fact that she was a woman, then the Duke doffed his hat. ‘Madam. From the fact that you are with this gentleman, I assume you are not sightseeing on the battlefield?’

‘Ma’am,’ Jack said, without a quiver in his voice, ‘may I introduce his Grace the Duke of Wellington, Commander of Allied forces?’ Eva bowed, as best she could given her position. ‘Your Grace, I am escorting this lady to England. I regret that at the moment I am unable to effect a proper introduction.’

The Duke doffed his hat and the others followed suit. ‘I presume that Rav…Ryder is taking you to Brussels?’

‘Yes, your Grace. I must not distract you from the task in hand, forgive me.’ Another mistake with Jack’s name. What was going on?

‘We will ride back together, ma’am, and find you a mount. Allow me to present General Baron von Muffling, Prussian liaison, and Major the Viscount Dereham.’ He rose slightly in his stirrups and the other officers who had been standing further out moved forward attentively. ‘Lieutenant Colonel McDonnell, gentlemen—you have your orders, this place is to be held to the last extremity, I have every confidence.’

The Duke and the Prussian general rode off ahead, through the orchard gate and into a sunken lane that led up towards the crest. The younger officer drew up alongside and grinned cheerfully across at them. ‘You have chosen a hot day to visit us, ma’am.’

Eva smiled back, trying to make her mind work; it was beginning to feel decidedly bruised, as though it had been hit by little hammers for hours. Pull yourself together, you can do this. What was his name? Ah, yes, Dereham, and he was a viscount and a major. ‘You must all be very wet and uncomfortable after last night, Major.’

Dereham shrugged. ‘I can think of better ways to recuperate between battles, but I have no doubt we’ll all have our minds taken off our wet feet before much longer.’

Eva liked him on sight—with his blond hair, blue eyes and devil-may-care expression he was the opposite of Jack’s dark, serious, hawk-like looks. ‘I hope you have managed to get a good breakfast this morning. The French are frying ham.’

‘Stale bread and cheese, ma’am, washed down with rainwater. I’ll tell the men about the ham, it’ll make them even madder to get at the French.’

‘I should imagine they would follow you anywhere, ham or not,’ Eva said, meaning it. Under his cheerful exterior the major looked like a man who would inspire loyalty and trust.

‘Stop flirting,’ Jack murmured in her ear. ‘I do not want to be fighting duels over you in the middle of Allied lines.’

‘Nonsense,’ she murmured back. ‘Flirting, indeed!’

They breasted the crest as she spoke and the teasing words dried on her lips. In front of them were the massed ranks of Allied troops, muddy, damp, many of them bandaged or weary looking. She could see individual faces as they rode past, read the suppressed fear, the determination, the sheer professional spirit of the men and her heart contracted. How many of them would walk away from this place by evening?

Their eyes followed as she rode past; one or two raised a hand, or called a greeting to the major. Eva was just about to ask him what troops he commanded when there was a sharp crackle of gunfire from the valley below. Dereham swung his horse round and stared down the way they had come.

‘They’re attacking Hougoumont at last. The Duke put some backbone into the troops in the wood when we were down there, I just hope they stand firm now.’ He spurred his horse on, ‘Let’s get you a mount, ma’am—the sooner you’re away from here, the better.’

In the event, when Jack saw the raw-boned, hard-mouthed troop horses that were all that were available, he slid off the gelding and gave her the reins. ‘He’s tired, but I know he’s reliable. I’m not having you carted halfway to the French lines on this brute.’ He swung up on to a massive grey and hauled its head round away from the lines. ‘Come on, you lump, I’m doing you a favour today, taking you off to Brussels and a nice quiet stable.’