Sin and the Soldier, page 4
“That’s really kind of you, Mr. Renwick but—”
“It isn’t kind at all,” Renwick growled. “Protecting a valuable employee.” He glanced around him. “Your bag’s in my safe. Are you happy with that?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied.
“And happy in your company?” he asked bluntly, staring directly at Captain Gorse, who only twisted his lips into a sardonic smile. At least, it looked sardonic, though that might have been the fault of the scar running down one side of his face and tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Of course,” she said hastily. “Captain Gorse has been most kind. And gentlemanly,” she added, catching on somewhat belatedly to what Renwick was really asking her.
Renwick nodded curtly. “Until later, then. My lord.”
As he stalked away, Captain Gorse said only, “Shall we walk through the gardens?”
“It’s quicker from here.” She glanced at him as they began to walk. “My lord?”
He shrugged. “Courtesy title. My father is a marquess, but you needn’t bow before my greatness, I have three older brothers.”
“Are they also cavalry officers?”
“Lord, no. Rampton, my father’s heir, is in politics like him. Charles is a diplomat, William a clergyman.”
“Which one was almost hanged?” she asked dubiously, though something was already tugging at her memory.
“Oh, that was Dominic, the youngest of us. And perhaps the best since he is trying to change the world.”
“In what way?” she asked intrigued.
“Having personal experience of prison conditions, he is very eager to improve them.”
“And you agree with him?”
“There is nothing to disagree with,” he allowed.
“And yet you sound…distant. Unengaged.”
“I am not engaged in any cause, being of a cynical nature.”
She glanced up at him. “Because you risked everything for your country?”
“My dear lady, that isn’t a cause, it’s a career,” he said with mock severity.
He paused for a moment, watching the antics of the stilt men who were entertaining the children along the open lawns. Which, for some reason, was when her memory clicked into place.
“Lord Dominic Gorse!” she exclaimed. “Now, I remember. He escaped from Newgate, and they thought he was here at Maida. There were Bow Street runners and Watch men running all over the gardens looking for him. And then he was proved innocent after all. Quite a tale.”
“One that does not reflect well on Dominic’s family.” He met her curious gaze. “Incidentally, it is Dominic’s lady who expressed interest in hearing you play the harp at her party.”
She opened her mouth in habitual denial and then laughed. “Why not? If I am found, I no longer have a reason to hide.”
“And the more powerful friends you have, the easier he will be to scare off. I could escort you to her this afternoon if you like.”
Excitement surged up. New possibilities, new opportunities… And the thought of going anywhere with Captain Gorse was far too appealing.
Gerald would not win.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I need to see Mr. Laurie, too—my song-writing partner—if there is time.”
He nodded and they walked on. Despite his limp, he walked easily on the paths and even the tracks beyond the gardens. He even shortened his long stride to match hers. She had forgotten what a gentleman could be.
And yet as they walked, he seemed always to be quartering the area around them, including behind them. She had the feeling his every sense was alert, as it must have been in wartime. Curiously, her unease of the morning had vanished. There had been no sign of Gerald. He must already have run to torment and embezzle someone else. Which was hardly right either, damn him.
Both deep in thought, they approached the cottage in silence, though the quiet was soothing, companionable rather than uncomfortable. She liked that about him. She liked today very much.
Until she slid her key into the cottage door, and it would not turn. Blood sang in her ears. It was unlocked, and yet she knew she had been careful to turn the key fully.
“Stand aside,” the captain murmured. “Wait here.” To her amazement, he tugged once at his walking stick and the polished ebony casing came away to reveal a gleaming, business-like sword. He passed her the wooden cylinder with a nod and pushed open the door.
Even with Captain Gorse’s body blocking the way, she could see her tidy little home was in chaos. Furniture was upended, papers strewn across the floor. And through in the bedroom, a man glanced over his shoulder and threw himself out of the open window.
“Gerald.” The name broke from her in hoarse fury, even as the captain swung aside to bolt back through the front door and go after him. She leapt out of his way—which is when she saw the movement by the window.
A second, unknown man was crouching under the dining table. She doubted he was hiding there, just inspecting the underside of the table, which was no doubt why he hadn’t seen them arrive. But he saw them now, for he sprang out and leapt to his feet, a blade flashing into his hands.
“Richard!” she cried, but as though sensing the danger, he had already swung back and took the man’s attacking blade on his sword.
The captain had one arm and a game leg, surely negating his combat experience. She wanted to scream because this further injury, or even death, would be her fault. And because she didn’t know what to do. She could not hare after Gerald, wielding the misleading scabbard like a club, not when Captain Gorse was battling this armed ruffian.
While the captain merely side-stepped the villain’s next attack and contrived also to block his exit, Natalie, sidled past, circling, to come up behind the intruder. She even raised the ebony scabbard, but without warning, the ruffian’s blade fell to the ground. Captain Gorse kicked it toward her while stepping forward almost casually and knocking the hilt of his sword against the man’s chin. As the intruder reeled back, Gorse kicked out and yanked his feet from under him.
The man crashed down like a stone, and Captain Gorse stood over him, his sword point over the man’s throat.
“Don’t,” the captain said. He didn’t even sound out of breath. “Instead, start talking before I grow weary and feel the need to lean.”
Chapter Four
Richard was well aware that all his advantage in a fight had been reduced to surprise. No one expected a one-armed man to put up much resistance, so he acted quickly, and so far, it had worked.
Natalie stood on the other side of the intruder, looking dazed, her hand holding his scabbard raised as though she meant to use it as a club. That pleased him. No vapors, no screaming or standing around wringing her hands. She had just looked for a way to help the situation. He was proud of her, and yet glad, somewhere, that he hadn’t needed her help.
“No need for that, Captain,” the intruder said cheerfully. “No intention of getting spitted for the likes of him.”
“Will you close your bedchamber window, ma’am?” Richard said. “And perhaps the front door. No point in allowing your other visitor back in.”
Without a word, Miss Derwent lowered the cane but kept it with her as she marched through to the bedchamber and peered out of the window before pulling it shut.
“How well do you know Mr. Monck?” Richard inquired.
“Who?”
Richard leaned very slightly. “Your partner in crime.”
“Oy! Mind that thing, it’s sharp!” the intruder said with what sounded like genuine indignation. “I never knew the blasted cove’s name. Met him in a tavern, and he offered me a few coins to break into a cottage outside of town. Should have known better.”
“You should indeed. And your name?”
Now the man really did look indignant. “Bloody officers! Don’t you recognize me? I saved your sodding life at Badajoz. And you saved mine at Waterloo.”
Richard frowned. He had assumed addressing him as captain was hopeful flattery, but now that he looked properly… “Daniels?”
“Praise the Lord!” Daniels said sarcastically. “Any chance I can get up now?”
“Not until you explain what you were doing breaking into the lady’s home.”
“I just did explain! He offered me money, and he said she was unfaithful and cheating him.”
“You weren’t as big a flat as to believe that.”
“No,” Daniels admitted. “But coin is coin.”
“No one’s in that much need of coin.”
Daniel’s lip curled with contempt but also with shame. “Yes, they bloody are.”
Richard raised the sword. “Get up,” he said impatiently.
Daniels spoke the truth. God knew there were enough crippled ex-soldiers and sailors in London, begging in the streets because there was no work. But if he’d told himself it was only the cripples who were without work, he’d been turning a blind eye, or at least ignoring the full truth as the lesser of two evils. If a good man was desperate enough, he’d turn to crime, too.
Daniels rose but made no effort to run as Richard had more than half-expected, and even wanted. He had no desire to deal with Daniels as a criminal and would have preferred the man made it impossible by loping off into the countryside.
Instead, Daniels began picking up the fallen furniture and putting it back in its proper place. Natalie watched him, wary and baffled.
“This is Sergeant Daniels,” Richard said reluctantly. “He was one of my regiment, though not of my company. He seems to have…fallen on hard times.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Daniels said with a quick, rueful grin. “Didn’t know you were a friend of the captain.”
“Would it have made a difference?” she snapped.
“’Course it would,” he replied, shocked. He put a pile of papers on the desk and scratched his head. “Leastways, I hope it would. Afraid I was desperate and not exactly sober when I agreed. He bought me a few pints, told me some convoluted story about his wife stealing and cheating.”
“This is Miss Derwent,” Richard said austerely. “She is not married to anyone, and all the cheating is his.”
Daniels nodded. “Backed the wrong horse,” he admitted. “And didn’t even get paid. At least not beyond the ale. If it makes you feel better, ma’am, he couldn’t find money or anything else he wanted to steal. Although,” he added, picking up some pieces of crockery from a puddle of water and flowers, “I’m afraid your vase got broken.”
“I’ll make tea,” Natalie said tiredly, “if he’s left me any crockery.”
“I looked behind it,” Daniels offered, “but I didn’t break any.” He looked uneasily at Richard. “Sorry, Captain, I shouldn’t’ve done it. Not to anyone, let alone any friend of yours.”
Richard threw himself on the righted chair and scowled at him. “How desperate are you, Daniels? Don’t you have a wife? Children?”
“I’d be doing them as much good from prison as from anywhere else,” he muttered. “And for all, I shouldn’t have done it, I’d do worse—just not to you—to put a meal on their table.”
Richard’s scowl began to hurt his head. “Finish tidying up,” he muttered and leaned on his sword to stand before he remembered it needed its scabbard. Daniels passed it to him.
“Sorry about the arm, sir. You still had two when I saw you last.”
“Well, I almost got away with it,” Richard said vaguely and limped into the kitchen after Natalie.
She had her back to him, but as he entered, he saw her hasty swipe at her eyes with her sleeve. Wordlessly, he took the step between them, propped his stick against the cupboard, and put his arm around her.
For an instant, she stiffened, and he thought she’d twist away and box his ears. Then she let go of the cracked teapot and all but fell back against him, her eyes closed, her face damp. For a moment, he just held her, his throat and heart aching. He brushed his lips across her soft, rose-scented hair, and held his rough, scarred cheek to her soft, damp skin.
Then he murmured, “He got nothing. You kept your money and your music away from him. You still have the pianoforte and your small harp undamaged.”
She swallowed, and he imagined the movement of her cheek against his was a caress. Then she pulled away and lifted a cloth to remove the boiling kettle from the stove.
“The harp was knocked on the floor,” she said prosaically. “One of the strings is broken.”
“Then we’ll buy replacements in town if you have none here.”
She nodded, and he watched her pour the water into the teapot, gathering her strength back around her like a slightly tattered cloak. How often had she done this over the years? Because of the same man. Who would pay.
“Are you angry with Daniels?” he asked abruptly.
“Why? He’s just another desperate creature manipulated by Gerald.”
His lip quirked, and he had to repress the urge to kiss her cheek. “Then if you see it like that, I think he could help us.”
She was putting three cups and mismatched saucers on the tray, adding a jug of cream. She nodded once, and he wished he could do something as simple as carry the tray for her. Since he couldn’t, he picked up his stick and followed her back into the sitting room.
Daniels was holding the harp, frowning over its broken string. “Was that us, ma’am? I’d never have broken anything so beautiful if I’d noticed.”
“It will mend,” Natalie said mildly.
“Sit down, Daniels,” Richard commanded.
Daniels, who seemed bemused to be given a cup of tea and a honey cake, sat on the hearth, leaving the armchair for Natalie and the hard chair for Richard. He seemed to know what was expected of him—he had always been quick—for he said at once, “He called himself Gerry, and I met him at the Bird in Hand, which is more Seven Dials than Covent Garden.”
“Do you know where he lives?” Richard asked.
“No, but I had the impression it wasn’t that far away.”
“How did you travel out here?”
“Hackney.”
Richard raised his eyebrows. “So, he’s pretty flush.”
“Got decent clothes,” Daniels allowed.
“But probably about to run out,” Natalie said cynically. “Money flows through his fingers like water.”
“I can go back to the tavern and see what I can find out,” Daniels offered. “I’m rightfully aggrieved since he left me to face the music alone while he scarpered. If he’s not there, someone might have seen him or have a better idea where he’s gone to ground.”
Richard nodded. “Good plan.” He stared at his boots, thinking. “Where are your lodgings, Dan? I’ll come and see you tomorrow to discuss things.” Then, he delved into his coat and tossed a few coins on the hearth beside the old soldier. “Get some tea and sustenance in, and if you’re in touch with any of my old company who’re in need of a job, bring them round, too. If Mrs. Dan won’t mind.”
“She’ll be glad of it.” Daniels, who had looked for a moment as if he’d shove the coins straight back at him, grinned and stuck them in his pocket. “Right you are, Captain.” He drained his cup and glanced at Natalie, who set the plate of honey cakes beside him.
“Take them for your children,” she said.
*
It was a very odd way to make a friend, but by the time Sergeant Daniels left the cottage, she felt he was one.
“You don’t ask me if I trust him,” the captain observed when she had sat back down. “Given how you met…”
“I don’t need to ask. I can see that you trust him.”
“He made a bad choice because he is struggling. Cast adrift by the people who relied on him to fight and die in their wars. I include myself.”
“You are one man.”
“So is he.”
“And you gave as much as anyone to the war. Anyone who survived, and I suspect you nearly didn’t.”
An odd expression flickered into his eyes before they fell back to his boots. Suspicion washed through her like an ache, one she doubted she could ever ask.
“I am not the only man crippled in action,” he said grimly, “and far from the worst. Besides, I have enough private income to live on and a wealthy family that puts up with me. It has been four years since Waterloo. More than time for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and take back some responsibility, even if that is only a bit of extra coin for the men to help us with your erstwhile betrothed. I have an idea. I didn’t mention it before, because this is your home, but it seems more valid now.”
With difficulty, she followed the change of subject. “What idea?”
He frowned up at her through a fallen lock of hair, which he pushed impatiently out of the way. “I think… I think it may be some time before you feel comfortable staying here again. And it’s my guess that Monck is not going to give up as easily as we had hoped. So, why don’t we swap rooms?”
Her mouth fell open. “Swap?”
“You have my rooms at the hotel. We’ll tell Renwick but no one else in case one of the staff let it slip. And I will stay here, ready for the next villain to try and break-in.”
“But I can’t,” she protested. “My pianoforte is here. And in any case, I would not be allowed to disturb the other guests by playing at all hours of the night and early morning.”
He shrugged. “You only need to sleep there. For the rest, this is still your home.”
“Then I would have to trail up to the hotel, sometimes in the middle of the night.”
“I will escort you. Or one of the men I propose to keep watch for us.”
She sat back on her chair regarding him while thoughts and emotions chased around her so quickly, she could not sort them out.
“Because my music once brought you peace,” she said slowly, “you do all these things for me? Though I’m nothing to you. Though you don’t know me at all.”
“Not once,” he said, back to gazing at his boots. His lips twisted, and at first, she thought he had changed the subject. “I should not have gone back for the Waterloo campaign. I was already on half-pay. I had already had enough of death and killing. You’ll think that odd when I had been doing it quite happily for years, but I… I began to feel ill, sick not just to my stomach but to my soul. It didn’t appear to be cowardice, for I didn’t mind dying. In fact, I began to look for it, almost…court it. That is what frightened me into leaving the army in 1814, even though I had once wanted a long and glorious career there. I wanted to be a general by the age of forty. Unlikely in peacetime, I know, but such are the dreams of ignorant boys.”
