bloody heathens and says he happened to be there.”
Sharpe’s embarrassment was acute. He looked at Hogan. “Should I fetch my Company, sir?”
“No, Richard, you should not. It can wait. I’m thirsty, you’re thirsty, and her Ladyship is kindly offering wine.” He bowed to La Marquesa. “With your permission, Ma’am?” He held his hand out for the bottle that the chaperone held.
“No, Major! Jack will do it. He has the manners of a servant, don’t you Jack?”
“I’m a slave to you, Helena.” Spears took the bottle happily, while Hogan brought Sharpe a glass. Sharpe’s horse had moved some feet away from the carriage in search of greener grass and Sharpe was glad to be out of La Marquesa’s earshot. He drank the wine quickly, finding himself to be parched, and discovered Hogan at his elbow. The Irishman smiled sympathetically.
“She’s got you in full retreat, Richard. What’s the matter?”
“It’s not my place, sir, is it? That’s my place.” He nodded down the hill to where the South Essex relaxed on their knoll. The French were not moving.
“She’s just a woman, trying to be friendly.”
“Yes.” Sharpe thought of his wife, the dark haired beauty who would despise this aristocratic luxury. He glanced at La Marquesa. “Why does she speak such good English?”
“Helena?” Even Hogan, Sharpe noted, seemed to know her well enough to use her Christian name. “She’s half English. Spanish father, English mother, and raised in France.” Hogan drank his own wine. “Her parents were killed in the Terror, very nasty, and Helena managed to escape to an Uncle in Spain, in Saragossa. Then she married the Marques de Casares el Grande y Melida Sadaba, and became as rich as the hills. Houses all over Spain, a couple of castles, and a very good friend to us, Richard.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice carried to them and Hogan turned his horse.
“Business, Ma’am, just business.”
“This is a pique-nique, not an Officers’ Mess. Come here!”
She made Spears give Sharpe more wine that he drank just as fast as the first glass. The crystal goblet was ridiculously small.
“You’re thirsty, Captain?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“I have plenty of bottles. Some chicken?”
“No, Ma’am.”
She sighed. “You’re so hard to please, Captain. Ah! There’s Arthur!”
Wellington was, indeed, returning westward along the track behind the ridge.
Spears twisted in his saddle to look at the General. “Ten to one he comes up here to see you, Helena?”
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”
“Sharpe!” Spears grinned at him. “Two guineas he won’t come?”
“I don’t gamble.”
“I do! Christ! Half the bloody estate’s gone.”
“Half of it?” La Marquesa laughed. “All of it, Jack. All of it, and a lot more. What will you leave your heir?”
“I’m not married, Helena, thus none of my bastards can be described as an heir.” He blew her a kiss. “If only your dear husband would die I would be on my knees to you. I think we’d make a handsome couple.”
“And how long would my fortune last?”
“Your beauty is your fortune, Helena, and that is safe for ever.”
“How pretty, Jack, and how untrue.”
“The words were said by Captain Sharpe, my dear, I just repeated them.”
The huge blue eyes looked at Sharpe. “How pretty, Captain Sharpe.”
He was blushing because of Spears’ lie and he hid it by wrenching the reins harshly about and staring at the quiescent French. Lord Spears followed him and spoke softly. “You fancy her, don’t you?”
“She’s a beautiful woman.”
“My dear Sharpe.” Spears leaned over and led the Rifleman’s horse forward a few paces. “If you want her, try her.” He laughed. “Don’t worry about me. She won’t look at me. She’s very discreet, our Helena, and she’s not going to endure Jack Spears boasting round the city that he tucked his feet in her bed. You should mount an attack, Sharpe!”
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