Diane Gaston - A Regency Gentleman's Passion - Valiant Soldier, Beautiful Enemy / A Not So Respectable Gentleman?

The shack’s roof pounded with the rain. Gabe and Landon huddled near their small fire that gave them little relief from the chill.

One of the junior officers, streams of water dripping off the capes of his cloak, appeared in their doorway of their shack. “General Tranville wants to see you, Captains.”

Gabe groaned. “More nonsense. I’ll make a wager with you.”

Landon clapped him on the back. “You know I never gamble.”

They wrapped themselves in their cloaks and dashed through the downpour to the peasant’s hut that Tranville had made his billet.

“Mind your boots! Mind your boots!” Tranville shouted as they entered. Edwin, a sour look on his scarred face, manned the door.

They cleaned as much of the mud off as they could, the rain sneaking down the collars of their coats. After closing the door behind them, Edwin took a swig from a flask. Some sort of spirits, Gabe reckoned.

Tranville barked orders at them, nothing more than mere posturing, however.

He fixed the men with what he must have thought was a steely glare. “I’ll have no laggardly behaviour, do you hear? You tell your men they are to hop to or they’ll answer to me.”

“Yes, sir!” chirped a young lieutenant.

Gabe put on his most bland expression. He could endure Tranville for this brief period, but only because it was warm and dry in the hut.

“Landon,” Tranville went on, “I want you to find Picton tonight. See if he has any message for me.”

General Picton was the commander of the 5th Division of which the Royal Scots were a part. Landon’s task was to carry messages for Picton and Tranville during the battle, but it was ridiculous to send Landon out in this weather merely on the off chance Picton might have a message.

Landon must have had the same reaction. He glanced over to the small window, its wooden shutters clattering from the wind and rain. “Yes, sir.”

“And stay available to me tomorrow. I may need you during the battle.”

Landon knew that already, of course. “Yes, sir.”

Tranville nodded in obvious approval. His gaze drifted to Gabe and his lips pursed, but luckily his glance continued to his son, who was sitting on a stool sneaking sips from his flask.

There was a knock on the door and Tranville signalled for Edwin to open it. With a desultory expression, Edwin complied.

“Oh, Good God,” Edwin drawled, stepping aside.

Jack Vernon, the ensign—now lieutenant—who’d been with them in Badajoz, stood in the doorway.

Gabe poked Landon to call his attention to Vernon. He noticed that Tranville caught his gesture and quickly erased any expression from his face.

Vernon slanted a glance at Gabe and Landon before turning back to Tranville and handing him a message.

Tranville snatched the paper from Vernon’s hand and snapped at him, “You will wait for my reply.”

Gabe exchanged another glance with Landon. This was not the first time Vernon and Tranville had encountered each other, obviously. Whatever had transpired between them had left them acrimonious.

Tranville stretched his arm and seemed to be writing as slowly as he could. He dragged out this interaction with Vernon, presuming it would annoy the lieutenant, no doubt. Finally Tranville said, “Leave now.”

Landon spoke up, “With your permission, I’ll leave now, as well.”

“Go.” He waved him away.

Vernon left, Landon right behind him.

“Do you have further need of me?” asked Gabe.

“Of course not,” snapped Tranville. “All of you go.”

Once outside Tranville’s billet, Landon and Gabe pulled Vernon aside. “Do you have time for some tea?” Landon asked.

Vernon nodded gratefully.

They led him through the rain to the shack and heated a kettle on the small fire. The third officer in the billet lay snoring in a corner.

When they finally warmed their hands on the tin mugs of tea, Vernon glanced to their sleeping mate and back to them. “I need to tell you. I broke my word about keeping silent about Badajoz. I was forced to tell General Tranville.”

Gabe straightened. “Tranville!”

Vernon held up his hand. “It was not something I wished to do, but I had little choice. I showed him the drawings I made of the incident. Tranville threatened my family; the only way I could silence him was by threatening to expose Edwin. You are safe,” he assured them. “I did not show enough to identify you, not even your uniforms.”

“Did you show the woman’s face? Or her son’s?” Gabe asked, his chest tightening.

Vernon shook his head.

Relieved, Gabe rubbed his face. “Damned Tranville. I hope some Frenchman puts a ball through his head.”

“Watch your tongue, Gabe,” Landon cautioned, gesturing to their sleeping roommate.

Vernon rose. “I had better deliver my message.”

Gabe shook his hand.

Before he walked out he turned to Gabe. “What of the woman, Captain? Do you think she found a safe place for herself and her son?”

“She did,” Gabe answered. “In fact, she lives in Brussels. I saw her there.”

Landon sat up straight. “You did not tell me that.”

Gabe shrugged. There was no more he wanted to say.

“And the boy?” Vernon asked.

Gabe looked from one to the other. “In the army.” Let them think he had joined a Belgian regiment.

After Vernon left, Landon turned to Gabe. “How did you come to know the woman was in Brussels?”

“I encountered her by chance.” Which was almost the truth, if you didn’t add that he deliberately pursued her all the way to her shop.

“I thought she was French,” Landon said.

“She came to Belgium to live with a relative, she said.” He did not wish to talk about her. “I do not know a great deal more.”

Except everything she’d shared as they lay in each other’s arms after making love. Except how her smile seemed to make colours brighter. How the warmth of her skin made him feel as if he’d come home at last.

Landon dropped the subject and soon left to find Picton. For the rest of the night Gabe tried to ignore the water dripping from the ceiling and the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls. Mostly he tried not to think of Emmaline, how comforting it felt to sleep next to her, how wrenching it felt to lose her.

He needed sleep before facing cannonade, charging cavalry and thousands of soldiers marching towards them to the sound of the Pas de Charge.

The next day the rain dwindled to a light drizzle, but did not cease until mid-morning when the sun was finally visible again. Everyone prepared for what they knew would be the main battle.

Gabe conferred with his lieutenants and saw to the readiness of his company, ensuring they had dry powder and plenty of ammunition. His uniform was damp from the incessant rain, but those of his men were soaked through. As the sun heated the air, clouds of vapor rose from their coats and from the ground, lending an eerie cast to the scene.

The two armies faced each other across a gently sloping valley at a right angle to the Brussels road. One farm, La Haye Sainte, fortified by the King’s German Legion, was on one side of the valley. Hougoumont, another farm, occupied by the Coldstream Guards, was on the other. Gabe’s Royal Scots, along with other regiments of British, Dutch, German and Belgian troops, were strung the length between the farms with the forest of Soignes to their backs. Wellington ordered these troops to remain on the back slope of the ridge, so for most of them the battle was heard and not seen. Gabe witnessed a bit more from horseback. He watched the first attack on Hougoumont a little before noon, the first action of the day. Two hours later it was the Royal Scots’ turn. The formidable French column advanced into the valley. The ground trembled under their feet. Their drums pounded in the Allies’ ears as they marched up the hill.