[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
die. Damien knew it. Miranda brooded on it. The knowledge made their every moment together all the
more precious.
For now, her beloved colonel s duties were light. While he drilled his men at their camp a couple of
miles south of the city, Miranda kept busy to distract herself from the gnawing anxiety of what would
happen when Napoleon had his army in order and was ready to fight. She toured the cathedral with the
friends she had made of the other officers wives and shopped for souvenirs of Brussels lace to send
back to London for her kinswomen. Frequent, treasured letters from Alice, Bel, Lizzie, and Jacinda kept
her well informed of the happenings at home.
At the end of April, Jacinda was presented at court and was now officially out. She rhapsodized over
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
the lavish gown she had worn before the regent and the queen, describing every detail, but complained
bitterly that the resumption of hostilities had ruined the Season that she had longed for every day of her
seventeen years. London, she wrote, wasdevoid of interesting young gentlemen. All she could hope for
was better luck next year. She wanted to come to Brussels, where everyone had gone, but her
brothers unanimously forbade her.
Alice sent her lists of both boys and girls names that she and Lucien were considering for their child,
whose arrival was expected in September. Miranda had her twentieth birthday on the eleventh of May.
Still there was no hint of battle. The waiting was growing nerve-racking. She did not know how the
troops in the field could withstand it. She went out to visit them from time to time with Damien and made
an effort to be particularly merry in order to lift their spirits.
In late May, word came that Bel had given birth to a robustly healthy boy. Both mother and son were
thriving; Hawkscliffe could not have been prouder. They named him Robert William, of course, after his
papa; the newborn s courtesy title was the earl of Morley.
As May gave way to June, Miranda could not seem to shake off a persistent nausea from the increasing
heat and humidity. Nothing laid out on the lavish tables of the hostesses nor the meals offered at the hotel
agreed with her. It went on for more than a fortnight. She did not complain of it to her husband, but finally
sent for the doctor one day while he was off reviewing his troops. The estimable doctor then made the
great revelation: She was not ill. She was pregnant.
Somehow, she was shocked to the marrow, though God knew she ought not have been, with Damien s
insatiable appetites. She was waiting for the perfect moment to tell him when a Prussian messenger came
tearing into the heart of Brussels and rushed straight to Wellington s headquarters. Shortly thereafter, the
news spread like wildfire through the city that Napoleon had attacked the Prussian troops only half a
day s ride southward.
South? she thought in horror, realizing that her husband was in that direction with his men. As she wove
through the lobby of the grand hotel, the officers she knew tried to reassure her, saying that it might be
nothing at all, just some outposts firing on each other. Yet Wellington sent out the order that the army be
ready to march at a moment s notice. She was beside herself with anxiety, waiting for Damien to appear.
When he finally came, it was evening and a steady rain had been pounding the cobblestones of the plaza.
She was waiting on a chair in the lobby of the hotel when she saw him, MacHugh, and Sutherland come
riding into the square, mud-splattered, rain running off the brims of their shakos. Heedless of the weather,
she was on her feet, running out the door to him, before he had even halted his horse in front of the hotel.
She glanced at the other two. MacHugh was looking fierce, but Sutherland appeared shaken. Damien
sprang down off his mount and stalked toward her, sweeping off his shako. She threw herself into his
arms.
Are you all right? I ve been so worried. Were you near it?
He did not answer, just held her hard for a moment. The wet and mud of his clothes soiled hers, but she
didn t care. His skin was warm and his kiss tasted of rain. We saw the retreat. Napoleon tore the
Prussians to shreds. It s best you know now that this is going to be a large battle, Miranda. I can t stay.
Can t you come in and have supper, at least?
He waved off her suggestion. No time.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
His urgency increased her alarm. Do you have all your provisions? Everything you need?
He smiled at her then. Almost, he said meaningfully, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. Get back
inside. I have to go.
But why? Wellington is at the Richmonds ball. Surely it s not that serious
He has to put in an appearance there, love, he said as he walked her back into the hotel. If he were
to leave now, the city would panic. The civilians would flee north, and that would demoralize the soldiers.
It s just for show. He ll be joining us soon at the front. My battalion has been ordered to be ready by the
time he gets there. I don t know how long this will take, but I will do my best to keep you informed of
where I am. You may need to evacuate to Antwerp. I ll let you know.
Tears suddenly flooded her eyes. This was the moment she had been dreading the moment of parting.
She almost couldn t believe it had come. She held onto him. Damien.
He pulled her into his arms again. Don t cry. I beg you, please, don t.
She knew he needed her to be strong for him now more than ever. She felt as though she could fall
senseless with fear and grief or shatter into tiny pieces from sheer weakness, but somehow she steeled
herself, reaching down into the depths of her being to pull up the resolve worthy of such a man. She
swallowed hard, clung fast to her courage, and moved back a small space, glancing up to meet his gaze.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]