She gasped. "He has been writing for three years ...."

"Two, actually, with lots of help from almost everyone in the battery."

"... to your poor mother?"

"And my aunt. They can't wait to meet Lady Laren." He scratched his head. "Matter of fact, neither can I. I'm certainly ripe for suggestions, Miss Perkins." He took a long look at her, and she stood up quickly and started to back away, even before he continued. "Are you interested in getting married?"

Chapter Six.

Major Reed laughed and motioned her back. "I did not expect a general stampede to the door!" he protested, his good humor intact. "You wound me."

She returned to the table, quite in charity with him, since he was so obviously joking. I can certainly respond in kind, she thought as she sat down again and folded her hands in front of her. "Dear Major, while I am not insensible to the honor which you do me, I must decline with regret," she said. "There now, I think I said that right." She dipped the quill in the ink again and continued her copying. "Seems a pity to turn down my first offer, Major, but I doubt that you and I would suit." She started to laugh again, and he joined in.

He lay back on his cot again. "You see my dilemma, Miss Perkins." He frowned at her. "Your first offer? I can hardly believe that. What is wrong with the men of Devon?"

It was her turn to frown. "Nothing," she replied, "once they see my sister. Kitty has had reams of bad poetry composed in her honor, and more proposals than are strictly legal, I am sure."

"No one's captured her heart?" the major asked, his eyes closing again.

"Of course not!" she replied. Kitty has no heart to capture, she thought. "Mama is convinced that someone so beautiful must only fall in love with a marquis or an earl, perhaps a duke. Do have a care if you should chance to stroll down Holly Street. You are fair game!" she teased.

He was silent quite a while, and she thought he had drifted to sleep again. I do not know why a little exertion won't help you find a wife, she considered, although I do not know that two or three weeks is precisely enough. While no jury would convict you of being handsome, I don't have any difficulty looking at you. Although I am no judge, you will probably look just as nice thirty years from now across the breakfast table. You are certainly friendly. And stubborn, she added to herself, considering how you have plagued Horse Guards. And honorable. What other officer would wear himself out for his men?

"Are you reconsidering, Miss Perkins?"

"No!" she retorted, startled into smudging the paper, certain that her face was red. "You cannot possibly succeed with this harebrained notion."

He thought about it. "I believe I would rather have the wife of my bosom meet with a fatal accident than have to admit that she was a figment of my imagination," he said frankly. "My friends would tease me past bearing, but if it were an accident, I think I could count on sufficient sympathy from them to help me bear up."

"You should have thought of all this when you were scheming in Spain," she told him, as she smiled at his wit and wondered why there were no men in Devon with a sense of humor. "Might I suggest another solution?"

"You know I am up for it."

"The truth."

He sat up and looked her in the eye, and she was hard put to keep a straight face. "Miss Perkins, where is your sense of adventure? I was lying here wondering how to find a soldier of fortune who would be willing to murder my aunt. She has been at death's door for years and years, and I know she would really like to stick her spoon in the wall and continue plaguing my uncle, who escaped from her tongue twenty years ago! And all you can suggest is the paltry truth."

They laughed together. She returned to the papers before her, and in another moment, the major was sleeping peacefully. Well, you are no nearer to solving your dilemma, but I cannot believe you ever considered that a woman would just sit on your lap, she thought. She would have to be awfully desperate to shackle herself to a man she barely knew. I know I would never.

And yet .... "Tell me, Corporal Davies," she asked as he escorted her home again in the hackney. "Major Reed is not really serious about finding a wife on such short notice, is he?"

The corporal only grinned, and left her to her own thoughts. He helped her down when the hackney stopped at her house. "It took only one battle, miss, and I knew what kind of man I was dealing with. Never underestimate the major. I know I never do."

"I am convinced, Corporal, that finding a wife must be different from conducting a ... a military campaign," she said in protest.

The corporal only nodded, as though he indulged a child, and climbed back inside the hackney, seating himself with an air of complaisance that she found amusing. "Very well, I will own that your major is a remarkable gentleman, but ladies do not enter into marriage so lightly," she told him as the footman opened the front door for her.

"Oh, we'll see, Miss Perkins" was the last thing she heard as the jehu spoke to his horses and the corporal settled in for his return to St. Barnabas.

Her amus.e.m.e.nt carried over into dinner, where she found it remarkably easy to let her own thoughts entertain her. A smile or a nod occasionally in Mama's direction served to keep her parent at bay. I am becoming so good at this, she thought, as Kitty smirked and simpered her way through a commentary on today's fitting, and the receipt of a most-coveted invitation to a luncheon alfresco. Kitty even thinks I am interested in what she says. It would do Kitty no good to contemplate the hard fact that most of the world already eat their meals outdoors, and not by invitation. And probably without strawberries dipped in sugar.

Her mental picture of Kitty nibbling on raw meat plucked from the arrow point of a Mohican quite ruined any gravity she could have brought to the discussion, which by now had moved onto the fact that Kitty's host was the son of a viscount, somewhat spotty and rejoicing in a lisp, but worth a great deal, on his father's death.

"What do you think, Lyddy?" Kitty was asking.

Think? Think? When I am still diverted by a Stone Age vision of Kitty eating on the ground? This will never do. "Actually, my dear, I was not actually attending to your conversation," she confessed. "Do refresh my mind."

Kitty frowned. "Lydia, this is above all serious! I want to know if you think I should wear white or blue muslin to a picnic."

Lydia smiled and turned her attention to her plate. "I think you should send 'round a penny post to ask the viscount what he is wearing, so you can match."

Kitty's beautiful blue eyes grew even more round. "You cannot be serious!"

"Lydia, there is no hope for you!" Mama groaned, flinging down her napkin like a gauntlet. "You have put me off my feed!"

That can't be difficult, Lydia thought as she calmly continued eating, particularly since you have already consumed lamb, fish, and sirloin in the last two courses, not to mention soup and savories. "I'm sorry for that, Mama," she said cheerfully, pleased to feel no fear at her mother's combative tone. There is something about working-seriously working-for people who need my help that could go a long way to making me braver, she thought. She glanced at her father, happy to note his half smile.

But there is no sense in rocking anyone's boat, she told herself. "Kitty, I suggest that you wear something other than white, because of the possibility of gra.s.s stains," she said.

Her sister directed shocked eyes at her. "Lyddy, I cannot imagine we would be grubbing about on the ground!"

"It is a picnic, my dear," she replied calmly, wondering where, all these years, she received the strength to remain sober and upright when she wanted to laugh at Kitty's numerous stupidities. "That is, I believe, most generally where one finds gra.s.s."

Any botanical comment on her sister's part was canceled by Stanton's appearance in the doorway. "Sir Humphrey and Lady Luisa, there is a gentleman-or rather, a soldier of some sort-to speak to Miss Perkins. Shall I show him up?"

"Not if it is that common corporal who brings her home each evening," Lady Perkins said with a shudder.

The butler hesitated, looked around, and actually addressed Sir Humphrey. "Sir, I rather think it is an officer, but his uniform is so faded that it is only a conjecture."

"Why, show him in, Stanton," Sir Humphrey said as his wife stared at him. "Best to show a little courtesy to the men who helped keep Napoleon out of our salons and drawing rooms, my love." He spoke quietly but firmly, to Lydia's delight.

She knew it was Major Reed, and indeed, he came into the room even before Stanton could return to fetch him. She rose and left the table, then started to laugh. "Oh, Major, did I forget another hat?" she asked, quite overlooking that her mother and Kitty were watching.

Even wearing a uniform faded by the Peninsular sun and stooped by his injury, the major looked every inch the soldier, except for the two straw bonnets he carried. He smiled, and Lydia couldn't help but think that in a newer uniform, and standing more upright, he probably could find a lady to marry him, possibly even on short notice.

I do believe the men of the artillery have the finest uniform, she thought, and not for the first time as she observed the rows and rows of gold braid stretching across his chest. The fit is loose, though; I fear the major has lost weight during his illness. I did give him a good haircut, however.

With a smile of his own, he handed her both bonnets. "Miss Perkins, it won't do to be absentminded," he chided her. "My men and I are convalescing, and we cannot be expected to mount a guard over your hats to prevent mice."

"Indeed you cannot," she agreed with him. She took his arm, wishing that Kitty would close her mouth, and not look so astonished. "May I introduce Lord Laren, Major Reed, Commander of Battery B of Picton's Third?"

Her mother still sat dumbfounded, but her father rose and came to shake his hand. "I am Sir Humphrey Perkins, my lord. This is my wife, Lady Luisa, and our younger daughter Kitty. Won't you join us for the rest of dinner?"

The major shook his head. "Thank you, no, but I am on my way to General Picton's quarters." To Lydia's profound amazement, he took her mother by the hand. "Lady Luisa, may I congratulate you on your daughter Lydia? I can't remember when I have ever met a more useful female. I am certain the credit is yours." He turned next to Kitty, and flashed a smile that made Lydia's stomach ping about, for some odd reason. "Ah, Miss Kitty Perkins! Several of my brother officers have been lucky enough to see you at Almack's, and indeed, words do fail them, according to their reports. I understand why."

Considering that Kitty still stood with her mouth open, Lydia could not be sure if he were serious. She watched with some interest as he turned next to her father. "Sir Humphrey, you are lucky indeed to be the proud one in charge of three-three!-such gems. Surely you will not mind if I borrow Miss Perkins for the evening? I thought not. Thank you, sir! General Picton is most particular in wanting to see her."

Lady Luisa found her voice. "Lydia? Why would anyone want Lydia?"

The major laughed. "Lady Luisa, who would have thought you to be such a tease? I know I would not." He took a step closer to the woman, and Lydia was surprised to see her mother actually take a step back. Sir, you can be completely commanding when the occasion arises, she thought.

"Madam," he continued, "the general is interested in her opinion on tending the wounded. I knew you would not begrudge her service to our country. Miss Perkins, I recommend a shawl." He indicated the bonnets in her hand. "And one of these, preferably the one without additional ventilation. I will wait in the carriage. Good day, all. Grand to meet you."

He left the room, and it became so empty and still she wondered if he had sucked out the oxygen, too. I had no idea, she thought, then smiled. No wonder his men will follow him anywhere.

Mama made no comment as Lydia bid them good night and went upstairs for a better bonnet. There wasn't any need to pinch color into her cheeks. A glance in the mirror told her that her color was quite high enough, and her eyes even had a glow to them.

There was no time to change clothes. He would have to be content to shepherd her in a plain blue dress relieved only by a lace collar. She swung a shawl about her shoulders, s.n.a.t.c.hed up another bonnet more suitable for evening, and hurried downstairs.

True to his word, the major waited in the hackney, clutching the strap. Once the driver helped her in and closed the door, she quietly took a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped the sweat from the major's face. "This is too much exertion," she said simply. "My hats could have stayed another night at St. Barnabas, and what is this hum about General Picton?"

He winced, and it wasn't all from the discomfort of his wound. "It is the unvarnished truth, or nearly enough so," he replied.

Considering that she had seldom felt a need to be stern around him, she fixed the major with a hard look. "Major Reed, I already begin to quake now when you qualify the truth. Tell me what I am really getting into."

She mollified her admonition with another wipe of his face, and he leaned back carefully. "I have been invited to the Pictons, but I know they will be gratified to hear your remarks. Now, don't look like that! Lydia, has no one ever told you that you are too suspicious by half?"

"It is Miss Perkins, and no, they have not," she retorted.

He smiled. "Besides that, I didn't want to waste this evening in a carriage by myself. If you cannot be charitable to me, at least consider the fineness of the evening and rejoice that I have sprung you from the house."

She did, thinking to herself that the night was uncommonly fine, even for late June. "What is Northumberland like, this time of year?" she asked suddenly.

He didn't answer immediately, and she was content to wait as he summarized Northumberland in his brain. She liked the way he thought through her questions because it meant he was listening. Only Papa ever listened at home.

"It's not to everyone's taste, and a far cry from the heat and general fervor of Spain," he said. "At home right now, everything would be going from that lime green look of spring into the full leaf of summer." He sighed, and she didn't even think he was aware of it. "I would be every day in the saddle now, looking over the work of my farmers and shepherds. The shearing would be over, and the wool on the market. I'd be late to bed every night, up early, and tired in between." He chuckled. "Do you know, I can't wait to be about it again. No one will shoot at me, and I understand the patois of the natives, because I can speak it, too. I can put my legs under a table, and my bed is soft in all the right places, unless Mama finally threw out that old mattress."

"You've been thinking a lot about it, haven't you?" she murmured.

"Only every day for the last five years," he said quickly. "No one was happier than I to see Boney take up residence on Elba." He was silent then, sitting beside her in the close hackney, their shoulders touching companionably. I like this, she thought. Perhaps when I return to Devon, I will make some exertion toward finding a husband. I am twenty-two, but surely there is a clergyman or a widower somewhere who wouldn't be disgusted with marrying someone past her first bloom.

"It's your turn," he said, when she had thought he was dozing. "Where do you wish to be?"

"Why, right here," she said without thinking, and then had the grace to blush. "Major, Mama says I am not possessed with much imagination. I suppose I am partial to the moment."

He touched her hand. "Then, you are probably more content than most of us who look ahead and are not so patient in waiting for the now to turn into tomorrow. Ah. Here we are, Miss Perkins."

She had to agree with him as they walked slowly toward the house. The night was fine, and truly too good to spend indoors. I do like the moment, she told herself in honest self-defense, and there is no real defect in that, even if Mama and Kitty call me stodgy.

She found herself in a plainly decorated hall, spa.r.s.e of furniture, which made her suspect that Lady Picton was inclined to follow the army herself, and not invest much time in knickknacks and furbelows that required attention and careful packing.

Lady Picton was much like her husband, somewhat commanding in appearance, with a straight back and simple clothes. Lydia noticed with some amus.e.m.e.nt that she was also a good head taller than the general, who stood beside her, his arm around her waist.

The general noticed her glance. "Miss Perkins, consider the folly of a youthful leg-shackle. Lady Picton and I were much the same height when we married at twenty. Alas, she continued to grow. Pick yourself a man like Sam here, who is as tall as he's ever going to be, and you'll get no surprises."

On the contrary, she thought as she curtsied and blushed with about equal skill, Major Reed is full of surprises and on the prowl for an instant wife.

"Tommy, I vow you have embarra.s.sed our guest," Lady Picton said as she took Lydia's hand. "Thank goodness the war is over, my dear Miss Perkins, else men's manners would evaporate entirely. Do come in and meet the other guests. Sam, how good to see you again, and upright once more."

She was in excellent hands now, no mistaking. Lady Picton took her by the arm and led her around the drawing room, introducing her to officers with names familiar from the newspaper, their wives, and other ladies she recognized from St. Barnabas. It was easy to visit, and trade stories with the women who shared her tasks of nursing the wounded. It was a far cry from the trivialities of Devon drawing rooms, or even the few parties she had attended in London, which seldom advanced much beyond conversations about fashion and the trying royal family.

Lady Picton's last introduction was to an older gentleman, who had the military bearing without the uniform. "Miss Perkins, may I introduce Lord Walsingham? He has taken it upon himself to prepare a speech for lords to question the treatment of the wounded during the war."

Lydia flashed a smile in Major Reed's direction, understanding his reasons for including her in the gathering, and for the next hour, joined the others in describing their impressions of hospital conditions. She discovered that she had little to contribute, compared to those who had served in the Peninsula, and she listened to stories of great suffering, no supplies, poor conditions, and ill-trained surgeons. There is inadequacy everywhere, she thought as she watched the animation with which Major Reed and other commanders spoke to Walsingham.

Her estimation of Major Reed rose higher, the more he spoke. So you used your own money to send home the bodies of your men, rather than have them jumbled together in Spanish soil, so far from home? she thought. He was not alone in this, or in paying for medications from his own pocket. Others told similar stories.

"Major Reed, I do believe your mother and aunt will forgive your prevarication about a wife, if they learn how kind you have been to your men," she whispered to him as the discussion ended, and she found herself standing next to him again. "I still think you should take your chance with the truth."

He only nodded, tight-lipped. She looked closer at him, then took his arm without his permission and led him to a chair. "Sit down," she ordered, and went in immediate search of General Picton.

I am full of nerve, she thought as she interrupted a gathering of officers to pull her host aside, whisper to him, and ask him what to do. In another moment, General Picton was helping his major of artillery to his feet and motioning her to take his other arm. "Sam, it is upstairs for you, and bed," he said, with iron in his voice that allowed no reb.u.t.tal. "Help him, Miss Perkins, while I attend to my guests. Sam, you are the d.a.m.nedest, most tenacious rascal it has been my misfortune to command-if I ever did command you, and I have some doubts. Take his pants, Miss Perkins, if he starts to animadvert, and make sure he stays in that bed. I'll see that you get home."

"But I must see her home," the major insisted.

"You are perfectly brainless if you do not think there are five or six officers who would like nothing better than to escort a pretty lady home!" Picton told him. "Help him, Miss Perkins, even if he is an idiot. I must return to my guests."

She did as she was bid, over the protests of Major Reed, who objected when she removed his shoes, took exception when she unb.u.t.toned his uniform jacket, and nearly fainted when she helped him from the garment. "You shouldn't be wearing something this confining yet," she scolded him, even as her heart ached to cause him pain.

She feared that his wound had reopened, but to her relief there was no blood through the bandage. Without asking his permission, she pulled his shirt away from his back and peered under the bandage.

"Well?" he asked, and he was breathing hard, to her dismay.

"No blood, but oh, you aggravate me!" she exclaimed as she removed his shoes and helped settle him on his side. His eyes were closed, and she wasn't sure, but after a moment's reflection she unb.u.t.toned the top few b.u.t.tons of his trousers and then pulled the blanket over him. She sat down in the chair beside the bed.

"Well?" he asked, after a long silent spell.

"Well, what?" she asked in turn.

"When are you going to ring a peal over me, and scold and rail, because I haven't the sense to stay wisely on my cot at St. Barnabas?" he said, his eyes open now, but heavy-lidded.

She observed his face, already quite familiar to her now, and could tell that the pain was less, now that he was lying down. "You don't need a scold from me," she said quietly.

"But ...."

"Sir?"

He smiled at her drowsily. "I know your own face well enough by now, Miss Perkins. Obviously there is something else you wish to say. Do unburden yourself."