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Slowly Bartlett’s eyes opened. He stared up at Flint without any sign of recognition. ‘Sir?’
‘Don’t Sir me, Bartlett, we’re the same rank, damn it.’
‘We are?’ he asked dully. His eyelids closed before Flint could answer, as though this was of no interest to him at all.
‘Have you shown him his uniform?’ Flint demanded.
‘He had been stripped by looters when I found him.’ Sarah’s angry colour faded. She compressed her lips for a moment as though fighting back nausea.
She had found him? This drawing-room darling had ventured into that hell and come back with Bartlett? No wonder she looked queasy—it was a wonder she could sleep at night. Perhaps his half-sister had her share of the Latymor backbone, after all.
‘They had taken everything except his breeches and one boot,’ she added. ‘The vultures.’
‘Vultures…?’ Bartlett’s voice trailed off.
‘You see?’ Lady Sarah tugged at Flint’s arm. ‘Leave him alone. He has no idea who he is, what happened. He doesn’t know you. He seems to think he’s a lieutenant. Perhaps in his mind he is back when he first joined the army.’
It looked genuine enough, and the man was no coward, nor a shirker, despite his overactive social life. On the other hand, it would be just like Tom Cat Bartlett to spot a good thing—and a lovely young woman—when he came across them. Something unexpected, something suspiciously like brotherly protectiveness, stirred. ‘Have you seen the head wound?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It was dreadful, you could see the skull—and I had to stitch it. When Lieutenant Foster saw it later he said it must have been a cavalry sabre because nothing else could slice like that and give such a heavy blow at the same time.’ She bit her lip. ‘Tom is going to get better. He must.’
He probably would, unless there was internal bleeding within the skull. That could kill almost with
out warning, days after a blow, but there was no point in telling her that, she would only cling tighter to the man.
Something scratched at the door and Sarah hurried across the room. ‘Oh, Ben, shush! You know Madame le Brun doesn’t want you upstairs.’ She opened it and staggered back as a great black hairy dog hurtled into the room and flung itself on Flint.
‘Sit.’ It subsided on to his feet, panting, its tail thrashing the carpet. ‘How the devil did Dog get here?’
‘His name’s Ben. I found him tied to a baggage wagon, the poor thing. I recognised him from the review. And he led me to Justin. And Tom. And helped me fight off the deserter who tried to steal my horse. So I had to take care of him after he’d done so much for me.’
Flint snapped his fingers and the dog sat up, leaning against his leg. ‘Good boy.’ He scratched it behind the ear, obscurely comforted that the beast was safe. ‘Dog is coming back with me, now. And so are you. Pack a bag. I’m taking you to Randall’s house.’
‘I won’t go.’ She sat down on the end of the bed, one hand possessively on Bartlett’s leg. ‘You’d have to carry me kicking and screaming.’
‘It can be arranged,’ Flint muttered.
‘I don’t have to do what you say. You’re only my half-brother and if Justin won’t introduce you to me, I’m sure you’re not fit company for me.’ She glared at him, full of fierce bravado and not far from tears, he thought. ‘How are you so sure Gideon is dead?’ she asked suddenly.
‘Because I was there,’ Flint said, caught off balance before he could think.
‘Are you certain?’
‘Certain I was there or certain that he’s dead? Yes to both. You don’t get up after wounds like that.’
‘Was…was he shot? Was it quick? In the head…?’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Sabre wounds, several.’ The angry colour ebbed out of Sarah’s cheeks. She had been on the battlefield, she must have seen the slashed bodies. Her imagination was doing the rest. He though she was going to faint, or be sick, but it seemed he underestimated his sister.
‘Get out.’ She sprang to her feet and pointed at the door. ‘Get out and if you come back here again disturbing Tom then I’ll use his pistols on you.’
Chapter Five
Adam crashed into the room like a sudden clap of thunder. The door slammed back against the wall as he strode in swearing and came to a fulminating halt in the middle of the room.
Rose dropped the shirt she was mending and stared. He appeared not to have seen her sitting in the corner. ‘My own damned sister! The—’ then something in French that Rose did not understand ‘—lascivious sod! I’ll gut the swiving, good-for-nothing, fornicating—’ Rose clapped her hands over her ears. ‘And her, blast her, looking down her nose and announcing that as we’ve never been introduced she can’t see why she has to obey me! I’ll give her obey…’ He unbuckled his sword belt and tossed the weapon on to the bed. ‘And she tries to steal my blasted dog. I’ll…’
Something cold and wet nudged against Rose’s hand and she looked down to find a huge black dog watching her fixedly. It look a fold of her skirts in its jaws and tugged. Rose stood up. Adam was still swearing. The dog released her skirt and pushed her with its big head. When she stood her ground it growled softly.
