A Mistress for Major Bartlett (Brides of Waterloo)

‘Lady Sarah, don’t disparage yourself this way. What you have done for me is nothing short of miraculous. I never thought—’

‘No. And nor would anyone else think me able to cope with anything so real as stitching up wounds or nursing a sick man through a fever. A social butterfly, that’s all I am.’

‘No, Lady Sarah. You are so much more than that.’

‘What?’ She flung her poor abused riding hat across the room in vexation. ‘What more to me is there than fashionable clothes and insipid conversation?’

‘Loyalty,’ he replied without a second’s hesitation. ‘To your brother. Not many society women would stir themselves out of their safe drawing rooms to go hunting for an injured brother. Nor take pity on anyone else, if she didn’t find who she was looking for. Nor put themselves through such an ordeal. Most society women would have turned me over to the care of servants, rather than contaminate their fair little hands with my blood, my sweat.’

‘No, I’m sure that’s not true.’

‘Oh, but it is. This Mary person may be more used to dealing with practical matters, if she’s a schoolmistress. But don’t compare your greatness of heart to her ability to cope with things as a matter of course.’

Heavens, no wonder she wanted her first kiss to come from his lips. He might not mean the half of what he said, kissing her might mean nothing to him, but oh, how she wanted to believe he admired her. He kept on making her feel as if there was something about her, apart from her title and wealth. As if he’d seen something in her that nobody else ever had.

She smiled at him sadly.

‘You are so sweet, Tom, to say things like that. But—’

‘I’m only saying it because I believe it. Lady Sarah, you may have led a sheltered life up till now, but these few days have shown what you really are, deep inside. And what you are is brave and compassionate, and kind. You haven’t run from your fears, or hidden behind propriety. You just rolled your sleeves up and did what had to be done.’

Perhaps that was what she should do now. Roll up her sleeves, take his face between her hands and show him what she needed.

Her heart banging against her ribs, she went to the bed and sat down. Reached out her hand.

But what if he didn’t really mean all those things he said? What if he didn’t find her attractive?

Instead of leaning forward and kissing him, she just took the hand he held out to her and pressed it to her cheek.

‘Oh, Tom.’ No wonder he was so successful with women. He knew exactly what to say to make them feel good about themselves. To make their hearts melt with tenderness towards him. To want to press kisses all over his dear, battered face.

This was what made rakes so dangerous. This was exactly why she avoided them.

Fortunately, Madame le Brun came in just then, with another tray of soup and freshly baked bread, before she could summon up the courage to really make a fool of herself.

And after they’d eaten, she took care to keep the atmosphere light.

* * *

But as night drew on and the time for going to bed loomed ever closer, Sarah became more and more aware that tonight it was all going to be very different. The impropriety of sharing a room with Tom when he’d been crazed with fever hadn’t bothered her very much at all. Besides, she’d remained fully dressed, since there hadn’t been the time, or the opportunity, to change into her nightwear.

But tonight he was in his right mind. And even though she’d had Gaston install a screen between his bed and the pallet she was going to use, it still felt positively scandalous to come into his room in her nightgown, rather than her day clothes. Especially when she’d been thinking about kissing him, on and off, all afternoon.

Not that he’d shown any inclination to attempt anything improper, she sighed, flicking her braided hair over her shoulder. For all his talk about her being loyal and brave, and compassionate, he hadn’t said anything about her being desirable.

Not that she wanted him to, she huffed as she lay down on the pallet and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Not now her fit of jealousy, or whatever it was, when she’d thought about him kissing someone else, had worn off. She didn’t want that kind of attention from such a notorious rake. It would be terribly wearing, having to fend him off all the time.

And she would fend him off. Of course she would.

She turned on her side and thumped the pillow into shape. She mustn’t forget that if he did attempt to seduce her, it would only be because it was his nature to try to bed the nearest available woman. She had too much pride to join the long line of women who’d fallen prostrate at his feet.

Even if he asked her to.

Which he hadn’t. Wouldn’t.

She turned over again, vainly trying to find a comfortable position. Which was impossible when she was so very aware of him lying there, not four feet away, clad only in a nightshirt, so far as she could tell.

But her eyelids soon grew too heavy to hold open. She hadn’t slept in more than brief snatches for days. Had worked harder, and been through more than she ever had in her whole life.