A Mistress for Major Bartlett (Brides of Waterloo)

Randall snorted. ‘I’d warrant that the dog left her though, didn’t it, the moment Major Flint came on the scene?’

‘Well, yes, but the dog was always his, more than anyone else’s, wasn’t it? And I grant you that it wasn’t a very good comparison to make, except that, well, the dog may have spread its favours widely, when Major Flint wasn’t around, but in the end, it belonged only to him. The way I shall only belong to Sarah, for the rest of my life.’

‘You expect me to believe that Tom Cat Bartlett is suddenly going to reform? Because of my sister?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you fully intend to elope with her if I refuse to grant my permission?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And oblige her to live on your pay?’

‘She says she’s perfectly happy to do so, sir.’

‘She has no notion of what that means. Why, you couldn’t keep her in gowns for a month!’

‘She doesn’t care a rap for gowns. And if you knew her better, sir, you would know she would rather be out on horseback than being dragged from one modiste to another by her mother or her sister.’

‘It won’t hurt to acquire a wealthy wife, though, will it?’

‘It wouldn’t if I cared for money. Which you know I don’t. I’ve always contrived to live well within my means. And anyway, she won’t be wealthy, will she, not if she marries me. You have said so.’

Colonel Randall made another of those low, sort-of-growling noises.

But—was he imagining it, or had Randall’s frown turned a touch less angry, and a tad more thoughtful?

‘At le

ast you haven’t debts,’ he finally conceded. ‘Or a gambling addiction.’

‘Given the way my father ended, you should know why I abhor gaming of all sorts. Although,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘in one respect, I believe I am more like my father than I ever knew.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes, sir. It only occurred to me, on my way here, this morning. I know now why he ended so badly. It was because he loved my mother so deeply. When he lost her, nothing else mattered. Not his title, not his position, not even his own son. Without her, his entire life ceased to have meaning. For the first time, I can begin to contemplate what he felt like. For I would feel like that, too, should I ever lose Sarah. And so I regret to inform you, sir,’ he said, drawing himself to his full height and looking his commanding officer straight in the eye, ‘that nothing you can do, or say, will make me give her up.’

‘I suppose you had better marry her, then,’ said Randall.

‘What?’

‘I have not the energy to repeat myself,’ he said wearily. ‘I have thought of little else since she visited me yesterday.’ The line of his mouth softened into something almost resembling a rueful smile. ‘The women in my family are strong-willed. Stubborn. Once they get a notion in their heads there is no shaking it. If she’s set her heart on you, then have you she will, by hook or by crook. Heaven help you,’ he added with a shake of his head.

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

‘Well, then, since you are to become my brother, you may as well be the first to know that I shall be leaving the army. It is past time that I returned to Chalfont and took up my duties there. All of them,’ he added, in a rather more determined tone. ‘Randall’s Rogues may be disbanded. But if they do continue, in whatever form, then I have complete confidence that I may trust them to either you or Major Flint.’

‘Sir!’ It struck him that it was particularly fitting that the next commanding officer would be either the half-brother or the brother-in-law of the man who’d originally formed the unit.

‘It will mean promotion, of course. Better pay.’

‘Sir!’ He couldn’t credit it. He’d come here expecting to get cashiered out of the regiment and instead he was looking at a possible promotion. How on earth would they work out which of them would land the job, though? Normally promotion would have gone to the officer with the most seniority. But it would be devilish hard to work out which of them that was, given the way the unit had been formed. Both had exchanged from other regiments. There was probably some clerk, somewhere, who had a formula for working out such things.

Not that he would object to serving under Flint, if it turned out he was the one who had seniority. On the contrary, he admired Flint for the way he’d worked his way up through the ranks. It took an exceptional man to do that.

‘Bartlett!’

‘Sir?’