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eadow which is just a little way beyond the town.’ The carriage turned down from the main street amidst crowds on foot, horse back and in carriages, all heading in the same direction into the country-side.
Then Mrs Tresilian gasped, and Julia craned round to look. Ahead was nothing but a sea of colour and a milling mass of horses and riders covering the wide meadows that stretched along the River Dender, up to the sharp slope of the woods.
‘There must be thou sands of them,’ Julia murmured in awe as the coachman manoeuvred the barouche into position.
‘Six or seven thousand,’ he agreed. ‘Forty six squadrons, so Major Carlow tells me. There, you see: the heavy dragoons, then the light dragoons.’
Julia craned her neck: Hal would be there, impossible to distinguish in the mass of horsemen.
‘And the batteries-howitzers as well,’ the baron explained. ‘And I believe they have the Rocket Brigade in there somewhere.’
‘It is like a wall of red brick,’ Mrs Tresilian murmured, gazing at the heavy dragoons, but Julia was searching the lines of blue, distracted by the shifting pattern of broad lapels in at least four colours. And then she saw the big horse, ghostly grey amongst the darker bays, blacks and chest nuts. There were other greys, but none as big and pale as that one. She had found Hal. Julia sat back against the squabs, her eyes fixed on the distant figure, happy.
The sun shone and the troops manoeuvred, wheeled, reformed. The inspecting dignitaries came down over a temporary bridge and then passed up and down the ranks; the picnic was unpacked and consumed; and Julia nearly spilled her lemonade down her new walking dress when the twenty-one gun salute was fired.
Phillip was struck almost dumb with excitement, his eyes wide, fixed on the shifting pattern of horsemen, the displays of artillery drill, the glitter of weapons and orders.
Then the duke and his guests left, heading—so the baron informed them—for a grand dinner at Lord Uxbridge’s headquarters. Julia took a deep breath, half dazzled by the spectacle, half disappointed that it had all been at a distance.
‘Ah, they are beginning to break up,’ the baron said. ‘Many of them have a distance to go back to their quarters. If we stay here, young Philip will see some of them closer. You would like that? Eh?’
Julia kept a firm hand on her brother’s shoulder as they stood by the carriage watching the troops clatter past in small groups. And then Phillip gave an excited squeak and Julia turned. A big grey horse was approaching from behind them.
‘Baron.’ Hal touched his hand to his shako. ‘Mrs Tresilian, Miss Tresilian. And Master Phillip, are you enjoying yourself?’
Julia could only be thankful he was talking to her brother. If he had asked her a question, she doubted she could have made a sensible remark. It was ridiculous, she told herself. She was a mature woman, not some silly chit to be dazzled by a uniform. But here she was, her heart pounding, wanting to smile like a looby, all because one man was there looking like a statue of valour come to life.
‘What’s your horse called, Major?’ Phillip asked. He was standing, at a cautious distance from the big hooves, hands behind his back.
‘Max.’ The horse turned his head and looked down at the small boy who stood his ground and stared back.
‘He’s very big.’
‘Seventeen hands. Would you like a ride?’
‘Me?’
‘If your mama permits.’
‘Major—’
‘He will be quite safe, ma’am. Phillip, hold up your hands.’ Hal leaned down, caught the boy’s wrists and swung him up onto the saddle before him. ‘There you are. Perhaps Miss Tresilian should walk with us, just in case he wants to get down?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Julia kept pace as Hal turned the horse down towards the river, through the long, un tram pled grass and away from the bustle of people leaving the review ground.
Hal spoke quietly to the child. ‘I bred Max from one of my big hunters and a mare belonging to my brother, but he’s bigger than both of them. He is five years old, just a bit older than you.’
Julia saw her brother relax and begin to grin. He leaned back trustingly against the man holding him and started to ask questions, all of which Hal answered with patience, speaking to the child as though to an equal. He seemed to under stand the little boy and be prepared to take any amount of trouble with him. Julia looked up and saw the two of them, chatting away like old friends as the horse wandered down towards the river. Then she stumbled as realization hit her like a blow.
She was falling in love with Hal Carlow. She hadn’t seen it when she had looked at the dashing, dazzling cavalry officer; then, she had simply admired and desired him. It was this quiet man, absorbed in amusing a small boy he hardly knew, who had snatched her heart.
‘Yes please, sir!’ Phillip said and she stared, realizing she had missed something.
Hal swung down, leaving Phillip perched up alone in the saddle. ‘Hold the reins like I showed you,’ Hal said, walking round to run the stirrups right up the leathers so the child could put his feet in them. ‘Sit up straight. There you go.’ He bent and whispered, ‘It is all right, Max will just walk with me. Come on, Mr Tresilian! At the walk. Forward!’
He took Julia’s hand and tucked it under his elbow. ‘Did you enjoy the review?’ Max plodded after them.
‘It was wonderful, thank you so much for arranging it. The baron has been kindness itself.’ She hoped she was sounding normal; it was difficult to tell.
