Page 46 of Tempting the Marquess

“Is everything ready for a departure first thing in the morning?”

The man grimaced. “Not quite. We purchased a cart to carry the colonel back to Calais, but got into a scrap when it was being delivered. Buggers wanted thrice again the price, and we didn’t have the blunt to pay for it. With all due respect, sir, the army can be slow with money.”

“I understand, believe me. But this particular mission, unofficial though it may be, has been signed off at the highest level, and generously equipped. There will be more than enough for a new cart, plus weapons and supplies to restock your cellar.”

“That is good to hear. All around us, blacksmiths and farriers and carpenters, not to mention all the farmers, are being called into service. The French are preparing for war, sir. I hope to God Britain and her allies are ready, because I reckon Napoleon will be marching north inMay.”

William froze. “Thatsoon?”

“Aye. So we need to get Colonel Langley away from here and back to England as soon as possible.”

“Can I seehim?”

Gray Hair nodded. “Come this way. He’s in the backroom.”

Ducking his head under the low door frame, William followed the man down a narrow candlelit hallway. Another soldier stood at attention outside a closed door. “Is this Colonel Langley’sroom?”

“Aye, sir. We have guards posted outside, across the road, next door, and upstairs too. Ain’t no one getting to him. We shoot to kill. No warnings.”

“Good,” said William, taking a deep breath. Then he unhooked the latch and pushed open the door. Like the hallway, the room was lit by candles. It wasn’t large, but the furniture was sturdy, and the linen surprisingly clean. Sheets of fine muslin had been tacked to the roof to protect from insects.

Crossing the room, he paused next to the bed. No matter what Alexander’s brother looked like, he had to remain calm and reassuring. He lifted the fabric, to find a dark-haired man on his side facing the wall. “Robert?”

The unmoving, and naked figure on the bed coughed. “Who wants toknow?”

William swallowed back bile. It was Robert’s voice, and yet sounded all wrong. Hoarse. Raw, like chains scraping stone. “It’s me. Standish.”

Slowly, Robert turned away from the wall and looked athim.

Christ. Hell. Fuck.

William pressed a fist to his lips to halt a gasp of horrified denial. This couldn’t be Colonel Lord Robert Langley. That man was tall and broad-shouldered and built like barn. That man was dashingly invincible, and the acknowledged pride of the British army. Not so acknowledged, but the pride of the Langley familyalso.

This man was…broken.

Robert’s skin bore the harsh evidence of years in the Spanish and Southwest France sun, and was burnished nearly bronze. And yet he was haggard and coated in sweat. His cheeks were sunken, as though he’d stopped eating. But far worse were his wounds. The French had done their best to hack him to pieces—three long, shallow slashes marked his chest, more crisscrossed his shoulders and arms, and one cut a path down the side of his thigh. But his face had fared worst, a deep jagged gash stretching from chin to ear. The wounds had been carefully stitched, and looked clean enough. But he would carry the scars for the rest of hislife.

Robert’s lips lifted in what might have been a smile, but his startling amber eyes were hollow and dull, as though he had already given up on life. “Standish. It’s reallyyou.”

“Damned right it is. I’ve come to take youhome.”

* * *

Samantha lasteda further week of no news before she ran out of items in her bedchamber to destroy with both her wayward dagger and restless hands.

It was time for action. Surely if anyone knew what was happening in France, it would be the Duke of Southby. So like it or not, he was going to be paid a very impromptu visit.

It had barely gone nine o’clock in the morning, far, far too early for calls, when she marched up the wide steps to the entrance of Langley House. Located on the other side of Grosvenor Square from William’s townhouse, it was a palatial three stories and constructed of golden brown stone.

Plastering a smile on her face, Samantha sharply rapped the large brass knocker. Yet as soon as the door was yanked open, her nerves deserted her. Stephen had often joked about Southby’s fearsome butler Wallace, but nothing could prepare for standing face to face with the man mountain, almost as wide as he wastall.

“Yes?” he growled, his freezing cold gray eyes boring a hole throughher.

Somehow she managed to lift her quivering chin. “I am Lady Samantha Buchanan, the Earl of Westleigh’s cousin. I need to discuss an urgent matter with his grace.”

“And what might that urgent matterbe?”

“Lord Standish’s mission to rescue Lord Robert.”