to attend to, Emmaline. I am waiting for a new commission. Word could come any day and, when it comes, I must be here or the position will go to someone else.”
“You are not in the army any more?” Her gaze flicked over his uniform coat and her brow creased as if in confusion.
“My regiment was disbanded. I’m on half-pay.”
“Half-pay? What is that?” Her eyes widened suddenly and her voice rose. “Do you need money, Gabriel? I can pay you money to help me.”
“I do not need money,” he snapped. What he needed she could not give him, not without forsaking her son. “The army pays half of a salary when a soldier is idled, but do not concern yourself. I have plenty of money.”
“Even so…” she fingered the front of her dress “…I will pay for your help.”
Did she think he would accept money for such a thing? It galled him that she would presume they could make some sort of business arrangement after what they’d had together.
What he thought they’d had.
“How old is Claude now?” he asked.
She looked puzzled. “He is now eighteen years.”
“I was in the army, taking care of myself when I turned eighteen. Claude is his own man now. He must act on his own and accept the consequences.”
She seized his arm. “You do not understand. He will be caught. He will hang for murder.”
Her touch radiated through him. “That is his decision.”
“ Non, non, Gabriel,” she cried. “You must stop him. He cannot hang. I cannot bear it.”
Gabe felt himself weaken. Claude was her whole world, more important to her than anything or anyone else. Gabe had carried Claude off the Waterloo battlefield for that reason—for her —even while the cries of countless other wounded men had filled his ears. He did not regret doing so, but how many times was he expected to rescue Claude for her?
He closed his hands around her arms and lifted her away from him. He must think of himself now. Not of Emmaline. “I cannot go looking for him.”
She did not relent. “Then find Edwin Tranville. Warn him. Tell him to hide himself until I find Claude. I will send word to you when Claude returns to Brussels with me.”
He blew out a breath. “I am not going to look for Edwin Tranville.” He wanted nothing to do with Edwin Tranville. “No more discussion.”
He walked to the door and opened it. If she did not leave soon, his rapidly eroding resolve might entirely wash away. “I bid you good day.”
He pictured himself holding her in his arms, inhaling her essence, feeling her warm curves against his body.
She paused to face him. “I am staying at the Bristol Hotel, if you decide differently.”
He closed the door behind her and immediately paced the room, angry at her for making this request, angrier at himself for hoping she’d come for him. He turned towards the windows and watched her step out of the building onto the pavement. She took a few steps, then stopped to look for something in her reticule. She pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
His insides twisted.
With one distraught glance toward the building she started to walk away.
But the three officers he’d run into at the War Office were approaching her, returning from the tavern, no doubt. They swayed with drink and talked so loudly he could almost hear their words. They exclaimed in pleasure when catching sight of her.
The three men circled her, doffing their hats and bowing, their greetings too exuberant, too ungentlemanly. She tried to push past them, but they blocked her path. She stiffened and tried again.
Three drunk men in red coats? It was like Badajoz.
Gabe sensed her panic as if he were inside her skin. He grabbed his shako and hurried out of the parlour, crossing the hall to the front door. As he opened it the three men were right there, about to step inside. Through them Gabe saw Emmaline rushing away.
Hanson put an arm around Gabe’s shoulder. “Deane, my good friend. You just missed the most
“You are not in the army any more?” Her gaze flicked over his uniform coat and her brow creased as if in confusion.
“My regiment was disbanded. I’m on half-pay.”
“Half-pay? What is that?” Her eyes widened suddenly and her voice rose. “Do you need money, Gabriel? I can pay you money to help me.”
“I do not need money,” he snapped. What he needed she could not give him, not without forsaking her son. “The army pays half of a salary when a soldier is idled, but do not concern yourself. I have plenty of money.”
“Even so…” she fingered the front of her dress “…I will pay for your help.”
Did she think he would accept money for such a thing? It galled him that she would presume they could make some sort of business arrangement after what they’d had together.
What he thought they’d had.
“How old is Claude now?” he asked.
She looked puzzled. “He is now eighteen years.”
“I was in the army, taking care of myself when I turned eighteen. Claude is his own man now. He must act on his own and accept the consequences.”
She seized his arm. “You do not understand. He will be caught. He will hang for murder.”
Her touch radiated through him. “That is his decision.”
“ Non, non, Gabriel,” she cried. “You must stop him. He cannot hang. I cannot bear it.”
Gabe felt himself weaken. Claude was her whole world, more important to her than anything or anyone else. Gabe had carried Claude off the Waterloo battlefield for that reason—for her —even while the cries of countless other wounded men had filled his ears. He did not regret doing so, but how many times was he expected to rescue Claude for her?
He closed his hands around her arms and lifted her away from him. He must think of himself now. Not of Emmaline. “I cannot go looking for him.”
She did not relent. “Then find Edwin Tranville. Warn him. Tell him to hide himself until I find Claude. I will send word to you when Claude returns to Brussels with me.”
He blew out a breath. “I am not going to look for Edwin Tranville.” He wanted nothing to do with Edwin Tranville. “No more discussion.”
He walked to the door and opened it. If she did not leave soon, his rapidly eroding resolve might entirely wash away. “I bid you good day.”
He pictured himself holding her in his arms, inhaling her essence, feeling her warm curves against his body.
She paused to face him. “I am staying at the Bristol Hotel, if you decide differently.”
He closed the door behind her and immediately paced the room, angry at her for making this request, angrier at himself for hoping she’d come for him. He turned towards the windows and watched her step out of the building onto the pavement. She took a few steps, then stopped to look for something in her reticule. She pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
His insides twisted.
With one distraught glance toward the building she started to walk away.
But the three officers he’d run into at the War Office were approaching her, returning from the tavern, no doubt. They swayed with drink and talked so loudly he could almost hear their words. They exclaimed in pleasure when catching sight of her.
The three men circled her, doffing their hats and bowing, their greetings too exuberant, too ungentlemanly. She tried to push past them, but they blocked her path. She stiffened and tried again.
Three drunk men in red coats? It was like Badajoz.
Gabe sensed her panic as if he were inside her skin. He grabbed his shako and hurried out of the parlour, crossing the hall to the front door. As he opened it the three men were right there, about to step inside. Through them Gabe saw Emmaline rushing away.
Hanson put an arm around Gabe’s shoulder. “Deane, my good friend. You just missed the most
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