Lily George - Captain of Her Heart

They moved through the corpses, picking them clean like vultures after carrion, stabbing through the wounded with expert precision, then looting them as well. By the sound of their voices, they were less than two yards away. It was only a matter of time until they found him—

Brookes jerked to awareness, bathed in cold sweat. Had he screamed out loud? He grasped around under the settee until he found what he sought. There it was—the decanter of brandy and an empty glass. He poured a tall measure with shaking hands. He was grateful that Stoames agreed to return to Brookes Hall with him after the war. Stoames was the one who set up his sofa so Brookes could sleep sitting bolt upright near the fire, and thoughtfully placed the brandy decanter within close range. Good man. He deserved a raise in pay.

On cue, his batman emerged from Brookes’s dressing room, where he slept on a cot. “Everything all right, Captain? Thought I heard something.”

“I was pouring myself a drink. Care to join me?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He ducked back into the dressing room and brought out his shaving mug. “A short one.” He politely held out the cup.

They drank in silence for a moment.

“Dream?” Stoames asked shortly.

“Yes. Same one. The looters. Before you found me, and stopped them.”

They drank again, staring at the fire.

Stoames sighed. “Let’s talk of something else. Your visit to Miss Sophie—how did you fare? Is she as beautiful as ever?”

Brookes hesitated. He refused to think about Sophie since returning from his disastrous visit to Tansley Cottage. But now, prompted by Stoames’s question, he tried to wrap his mind around her reaction. Among other soldiers, his wooden leg wasn’t even worthy of comment—a sharp contrast to the blank expression of horror in Sophie’s eyes. For the first time it dawned on him that a young and pretty woman might find him unattractive, repulsive even. “She is lovely as ever, but I think she found me sorely altered.”

“Surely she expected some change in you. After all, you went to war.”

“I don’t think many people can comprehend what happened, unless they were there.” Brookes swirled the brandy around in his glass. If he wanted to capture Sophie’s attention again, he needed to prove the changes the war wrought were merely superficial. That meant proving himself as lively and charismatic as he had been before he left for the peninsula—but was he? Pondering this, his thoughts drifted to Harriet, and he surprised himself by adding, “Her sister was looking well.” Not that it mattered, of course. Only Sophie’s opinion of him counted, since she would be his wife some day.

“Miss Harriet?” The edge of Stoames’s voice was sharp as a saber’s edge.

“Yes. She seemed…” He paused for a moment, searching for the elusive words. “She took the changes in stride.”

“Ah, well,” replied Stoames. “I’ve only seen the two lasses on occasion, but from what I recall, Miss Harriet was a steady girl. Quiet like. Not like Miss Sophie at all.”

“No.” Brookes stared into his brandy. “Not like Miss Sophie at all.”

Sophie and Harriet put their plan in action the next day, in the event that the captain called later in the afternoon. After luncheon, Sophie hitched the family’s one faithful nag, Esther, to the gig and drove off to call on Mary in Riber. As the gig beat a squeaky retreat, Harriet took her few remaining books outside, to read until the captain came to call. One had to take advantage of the brief break in the rain for a bit of fresh air.

Harriet’s mouth went dry as she watched Captain Brookes approach. With shaking hands, she picked up a book from the stack at her feet. She forced herself to gaze at the pages, even though the words blurred into a single black line. When it was polite to look up, she saw the captain dismounting with care, and striding toward her.

“Captain Brookes, so happy to see you again.”

“Miss Handley.” He bowed over her extended hand.

“You find me alone this afternoon, Captain. Sophie is in Riber, and my mother is resting.”

“I don’t wish to intrude upon your solitude,” he replied stiffly, waving a hand at her stack of books.

“Oh, no, Captain, join me. It’s a pleasure to have conversation. Mama says I read far too many books.”

“So I see.” He stooped and picked up a volume. “Homer? You read the classics?”

She smiled. “I read anything I can get my hands on. These are a few I managed to salvage from Papa’s library…before we lost it all.”

He looked at her sharply. “I have a library at Brookes Park. Not grand like your father’s, but you are welcome to it.”

Harriet leaped out of her chair. “Can we go right now?”

For the first time since his return, Harriet saw Captain Brookes smile. It changed his whole expression, causing a tingle of awareness to flash through her being. Then she grinned in entreaty. “Please, Captain?”

“Of course. Get your horse and we will ride over together.”

“Oh!” Harriet’s excitement deflated. “Sophie took our horse to Riber. We only have the one.”

“Then we’ll walk.” He offered her the crook of his arm.

Harriet glanced down at his leg, then up at the grey sky. It looked like rain at any moment. She couldn’t ask him to walk that distance, especially in a downpour.

She swallowed her disappointment and shook her head. “I shall claim the horse for tomorrow and ride over when the weather is fine.”

“The weather is never fine. I vow I have never seen such a chilly and wet summer. I have a better idea.” He smiled down again and Harriet’s heart leaped with joy. “We’ll ride together on Talos.”

“Together? How on earth?”

“You can ride pillion. Surely you’ve seen it, if your father had any medieval manuscripts.” Then he added, with a soldier’s air of authority, “It is the most sensible solution.”

Harriet nodded reluctantly. “How do we manage it?”

“I’ll get on first. Then you can put your foot on mine and swing yourself up behind me.”

Harriet swallowed. “All right.” She made a mental apology to her mother and Sophie, who would be horrified if they ever found out. When Captain Brookes was settled, she placed her foot on his in the stirrup and he tossed her up behind the saddle. Riding astride left nothing to the imagination, she realized in embarrassment. Her skirt hitched up much too high.

“Ready?” he called over his shoulder.

“Y-yes,” Harriet stammered. He wheeled Talos around and started back up the hill.

Harriet’s cheeks flamed. She leaned forward a little, against the taught smoothness of his back. Though she was precariously perched on Talos, Harriet was cherished and safe, like Mama’s jewels nestled in their leather boxes at Handley Hall. She closed her eyes, relishing the security that radiated from Brookes’s broad shoulders. Mercifully, he could not see the expression on her face.

A light rain began falling. “Hold on tight. I’m going to speed him up so we can get out of this wretched weather,” Brookes called.

Obediently, Harriet tightened her hold on his waist and squeezed her legs around Talos’s flanks. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. She must stop any nonsense right away. Any affection she felt was simply because she had never been this close to any man. He was her sister’s intended, after all. Remorse washed over her, and a heaviness settled in the pit of her stomach. Once, when she was a little girl, she had taken one of Sophie’s hair ribbons without asking, and then lost it when she was riding. The mortification she felt long ago was nothing compared to her shame today. A hair ribbon could be replaced. A man such as Brookes—well, he was one of a kind.