A Lady for Lord Randall (Brides of Waterloo)

Mary’s happiness was quickly dimmed by the thought of the bloody conflict to come, but she tried to hide it from Sarah. The girl had two brothers fighting and she did not wish to add to her distress.

‘His last battle of the heart, at least,’ she continued, trying to be brave. ‘He knows that when he returns I shall be waiting for him.’

* * *

Damn. Randall veered away towards the door. He wanted to take his leave of Mary alone, not with his sister looking on. He would go back as soon as he had seen Robbins. Impatiently he followed his man back to the ante room and sat down to pull on his Hessians.

‘Well?’ he said, getting to his feet again. ‘Where is the Latymor sword?’

Robbins coughed. ‘I couldn’t find it, my lord.’ He looked up fleetingly at Randall. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. It was in the trunk last night, my lord, that I’m certain of, because I had to move it to put in your buckskins that I had brushed clean. I haven’t been to that trunk since.’

Randall stared at him. He rubbed his chin. It had been there this morning, because he had pointed it out to Mary. Then with crystal clarity, he recalled the words he had overheard her speaking to his sister.

I am confident that Randall has fought his last battle.

A cold fist squeezed his heart. He must be mistaken. He gave himself a mental shake and waved his man away.

‘It doesn’t matter, Robbins.’

‘But, my lord, you always—’

‘I have my dress sword; that will have to do this time. I must have moved the other one and forgotten about it.’

But he knew that was a lie. The words Mary had uttered so passionately echoed in his head.

I would give anything to have you safe away from here.

The conviction was growing, heavy as lead in his chest. He dismissed his batman and returned to the ballroom, his brain racing.

Mary was not from a military family, her parents had been radicals, her father a confirmed anti-royalist and a supporter of the revolution in France. She had told him that she was opposed to war, but he could not believe she would do anything to prevent him fighting. Yet he had not opened the trunk since Mary had left. No one else could have taken it. And what else could she mean by those words to Sarah?

I am confident that Randall has fought his last battle.

* * *

His eyes raked the room. Mary was standing by the wall. She was alone now, smiling and tapping her foot in time to the music as she watched the dancing. Could she look so happy if she thought he was going into battle? Nearer the door couples were saying goodbye, their faces sombre, distraught. A young wife was saying a tearful farewell to her officer husband and when he walked away she fell into her friend’s arms, weeping. A stark contrast to Mary’s seeming unconcern.

Randall felt a touch on his sleeve and turned to see Major Flint at his shoulder.

‘You were looking for me, Colonel?’

‘The game is on, Major. Ride back to Roosbos and get the men moving, quick as you can. I will meet you at Enghien.’

‘You are not coming?’

Randall’s mind was still on the missing sword. He remembered Mary standing in his room, cloaked and veiled, ready to leave. He went over their last meeting, moment by moment. She had sent him off to find Robbins, to ask him to summon a cab for her. He had only been gone moments, but long enough for her to take the sword from the trunk and strap it around her waist. And when he returned she had refused to let him embrace her. She had put out her hands and kept him at a distance when he had so much wanted to hold her one last time. Why should she do that, if not to prevent him discovering what she was carrying? His doubts were hardening into certainty.

He said grimly, ‘Not yet. I have some unfinished business.’

Randall strode across the room, his temper rising. He recalled another occasion, when he had told her what he expected of his men.

Unquestioning obedience? I do not think I could give anyone that.

Suddenly it all made terrible sense.

As if aware of his eyes upon her Mary turned her head and he saw the smile falter. A look of pure terror flickered across her face. As well it might, if she guessed he had found her out. He had trusted this woman. Bared his very soul to her and this is how she repaid him.

The rein he had been keeping on his anger finally snapped.