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‘Thank you, my lord. You expect to be in Brussels today, I think?’
‘Yes.’ He poured a cup of coffee for her before returning to his seat. ‘I have told the baggage coach to go direct to the schoolhouse and drop off your trunk, but I want to stop off at Roosbos, where the Rogues, that is, my men are camped. There will be no need for you to get out of the carriage when we get there, in fact I must insist that you do not. If all is well there I shall then escort you to the Rue Haute.’
‘There is no need for you to trouble yourself, sir. I am sure your coachman will find his way without you.’
‘Undoubtedly, but I promised Harriett I would see you to your door and she would not forgive me if I did not do my duty.’
Mary did not argue. They both had their duties to perform. He had his artillery troop and she had her school to run. Once he had delivered her to the Rue Haute their paths need never cross again.
* * *
When they emerged from the inn some time later the rain was falling steadily from a leaden sky.
‘Surely you do not mean to ride in this?’ exclaimed Mary, stepping back into the passage. ‘You will be soaked to the skin.’
‘I have a good hat and a greatcoat.’
She sank her teeth into her lower lip and observed the downpour.
‘Tell me truthfully, if I was not here would you use your carriage?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Then you must do so, my lord.’ She met his eyes, but fleetingly, so as not to blush. She did not want him to think she was being anything but sensible. ‘I am sure we can endure each other’s company for a few hours.’ He understood her meaning, she was sure of it, and when he hesitated she added with a touch of humour, ‘Your sister would not forgive me if I was the cause of your catching a fatal chill.’
The stern look fled and a muscle twitched at one corner of his mouth.
‘I am not so weak,’ he said, ‘but neither am I so stubborn that I cannot see the sense of keeping dry.’
He gave instructions to his groom, handed Mary into the coach and jumped in behind her. He seemed to fill the coach and suddenly she wondered if her kind-hearted impulse had been so very sensible after all. He was so very big, so very male now that they were shut up together. Mary felt decidedly awkward as they rattled out of the inn yard and she sought for something to say to break the silence.
‘I know your troop is known as Randall’s Rogues, but are they so very bad, my lord?’
‘Worse. A ragtag collection of the most ungovernable men in the army. Thieves, and villains, the lot of them. My company is their last chance; the alternative is transportation or the noose for most of them.’
‘But you give them the opportunity to redeem themselves—that is very noble.’
His mouth twisted. ‘There is nothing noble about it. They are all good artillerymen. As long as they obey me then they remain in my unit.’
‘And the officers?’ she asked him.
‘Much the same. Villains or by-blows.’
Her brows went up. ‘Surely you do not condemn a man because he has the misfortune to be a bastard?’
‘Of course not, but circumstances can make or break a man. My soldiers are
desperate fellows, all of them. They need desperate men to lead them. Together we make a formidable force.’
Mary sat back in her corner, watching him. She said quietly, ‘You are very proud of them, I think.’
‘Yes, I am.’ His face softened a fraction before he recovered and added roughly, ‘There is no room for sentiment in war, Miss Endacott. The Rogues are what they are and I would strongly advise you to stay away from them.’
Even their colonel?
The question hovered on her tongue but she did not utter it. She already knew the answer to that. Especially their colonel.
* * *
