Page 45 of Tempting the Marquess

“Indeed, poppet, indeed.”

* * *

Pontoise,France

At this rate,he would be more than happy to never sit in a saddle again. Ever.

Suppressing a wince, William pulled his greatcoat tighter around his body to shelter from the steady rain. Not only a backside that would possess a saddle imprint for the rest of time, but a set of webbed feet aswell.

The soldiers in civilian clothing who were guarding the small party said rain was common in the northern parts of France, but it felt more like the gods were laughing at them. After about one hundred and seventy damned miles on horseback, he had no sense of humorleft.

Especially when Samantha was so far away. He’d tried to stop thinking about her on the short sea voyage to Calais, and as they trotted down one rocky, unkempt trail after another in order to stay away from officials and French soldiers gathering in all sorts of random locations, but failed utterly. It seemed he’d had his glimpse of heaven, and nothing less would do. Certainly not the company of grim-faced soldiers, nor the nondescript houses in Arras and Amiens and Beauvais who provided information, bread and cheese suppers, pallets for a few hours rest, then sent them on their way. Not that they’d protested. It was too important to get to Robert, especially as the situation in and around Paris grew more heated and leaned further and further toward Napoleon’s cause. And the road home with a badly injured man would be slow and dangerous.

But damnation, he missedher.

“Town is just up ahead, sir.”

William turned to the soldier riding next to him and inclined his head. The entire journey he’d been called nothing but sir. White had insisted that no names or titles be used, which was fair enough. If they were being watched or followed, the less information to identify them, the better.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “What is it like? I haven’t been here before, always carried on straight to Paris.”

“Very medieval. Lots of churches and convents. The streets can be narrow and steep in places, which makes them a pain in the arse…er, difficult to travel quickly.”

William stifled a smile. “Pleasant for artists to sketch rather than those moving produce. Or weapons.”

“Aye, sir,” said the soldier, his eyes darting left and right as they inched their way down a rather derelict path amongst the vegetation. The main road was nearby, but the closer they got to the Ile de France region, the more cautious the group had become. “Here, look. Just through the trees. Welcome to Pontoise.”

Even at dusk, the majesty and history of the area was evident. The cathedral spires rose high into the sky with an impressive gothic façade and even a Renaissance-era dome. If he remembered correctly from the brief notes he’d read about the place, English armies had invaded on a few occasions, but had always been thrown out eventually.

Yet as lovely as the town appeared, he was here for one reason only: Robert. And he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d set his own eyes on Alexander’s brother and knew for a fact he was alive. Truth be told, he was wary of what he might find. Robert’s men were fiercely loyal toward their colonel, and spoke of him in nothing but glowing terms as a soldier and a leader, but there was a bleakness in their eyes that spoke of grave uncertainty for the future. Even badly injured might be an understatement.

William turned back to the soldier accompanying him. “Where are our quarters? Is Colonel Langley there?”

If he weren’t used to noticing fine detail, he might have missed the other man’s shoulder slump. Hell. They were all bracing themselves for the worst.

“Yes, sir. After the skirmish, we had to get him out of Paris as soon as possible. We didn’t want to move him, the state he was in…but them damned blue coats would have killed him on the spot had they found him. There was a rumor…men in the city offering a huge bounty for his head. His actual head. Like in the bloody Revolution.”

“Christ,” William whispered. “You did the right thing.”

“Wellington would have had our guts for garters if we hadn’t. He and our colonel, they are almost like father and son. That’s why the French want him dead so badly. And they almost succeeded. Only thing that saved us was we got their riflemen before they got ours, so their swordsmen were left with less protection. We killed ’em all. But not before…before…”

“I understand.”

“No, sir. You don’t. We had the best of the best for the Peninsula War. But our ranks were decimated so they could send more troops to fight the Americans. Too many of our numbers now are green as fucking…beg pardon, inexperienced. We had some fresh officers in Colonel Langley’s group for Paris. Sons of the peerage who barely knew how to hold a damned sword, foisted on our colonel because of who his brother is. Those bastards are the reason Colonel Langley was cut to pieces. He was protecting their lily-livered hides.”

Nausea churned violently in his stomach. “Take me to him. Atonce.”

The fading light proved to be their friend, and a half hour later, they approached a simple two-storied wooden building in a shabbier section of Pontoise. Even though William couldn’t see much, he could practically feel the eyes, and weapons, trained on them from both sides of the street. And that was incredibly reassuring.

The soldier dismounted in an enviably efficient and smooth manner. “This way, sir.”

Gritting his teeth, William slid from his saddle. Under the guise of giving his borrowed horse a pat, he took a moment to stretch his muscles, all while praying his legs wouldn’t collapse under him. After a few twinges of sharp pain it seemed his limbs were going to behave, so he followed the soldier into the building. Several burly men waited just inside the door, heavily armed and gazes colder than a Siberian winter.

One man with graying hair stepped forward. “State your business.”

William inclined his head. “Package collection for Mr. White.”

At once, the room warmed and the men around him relaxed. Gray Hair half-smiled. “About time you got here, sir.”