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“When you didn’t write back to her.” Sergeant Anthony Brooker laughed. “I guess she figured that you were either dead or not interested.”
“I was hoping that she would believe the former.”
Anthony had been a childhood friend, the son of a minor noble. It was why he was a sergeant and Nathan were one of the officers. But Nathan couldn’t think of a better second-in-command for him than Anthony Brooker. Irrepressible as he was, he had Nathan’s back. It had kept him safe many times over the years. If it had been anyone else, Nathan wouldn’t be discussing someone so irritating in his life, something so personal.
“She seemed very interested in you when you first met.” Anthony grinned as he started reloading his rifle, reaching for the gunpowder. “I think she found the long-haired lad very attractive.”
“Tony, stop.” Nathan shuddered, turning the letter over in his hands. “She was not the woman I wanted or expected. She didn’t get the message, even when I signed up for the army.”
That had been a day. Nathan couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than having Lorraine throw herself onto him, begging for him not to go in front of the smirking soldiers. He had taken a lot of teasing from that incident, especially when he tried to explain that Lorraine was nothing to him. They hadn’t believed that.
“Anyway, she’s married now. She wouldn’t be writing to me. Not unless she’s that brazen about writing to another man under her husband’s nose.”
“You sure about that?”
Nathan’s head snapped up. “What do you know?”
“Viscount Yaxley’s brother is in one of the other barracks. I overheard him talking about his brother’s death a few months back.” Anthony waggled his eyebrows. “She’s a widow now.”
“All the more reason I should stay here in France.” Nathan shuddered. “She’s not someone I want to be associated with.”
“She wants to be associated with you.”
“Enough, Sergeant.”
Anthony laughed. “All right, Captain, all right. You’re going to burst a blood vessel at this rate.”
“Only if you keep talking about Lorraine Brooks,” Nathan grumbled. He ran a hand over the seal keeping the envelope closed. “Besides, I recognize the seal. It’s my family seal.”
“So, it’s from your mother.”
“I would say so.”
Only Lady Vanity Reynolds, Dowager Countess of Brixton, would use the seal. It was just the two of them now. Lady Brixton’s parents were dead, as were her husband’s. She didn’t have any surviving siblings. Her husband, Nathan’s father, died the year before, and it was just Nathan left. She wanted him to be back in London, be the Earl of Brixton as he was supposed to be. Nathan didn’t want the title. The only title he wanted was Captain. It suited him. He was a far better soldier than a nobleman. His father had understood that. Vanity didn’t.
Nathan opened the letter. It was either that or stare at it. He read the first few lines and then read it again. It didn’t seem to be registering properly.
“So?” Anthony probed. “Is it from the Dowager Countess? What does Lady Vanity want now?”
Vanity. Never was a name more appropriate for a woman with so many airs and graces. Even then, this letter didn’t read like it was from his mother. It felt...emotional. Scared. Frightened. Those were not words associated with Vanity Reynolds.
“Nathan?” Now Anthony was looking at him oddly. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale.”
“She says that she’s dying. That the doctor hasn’t given her long to live.”
Anthony blinked. “I didn’t think doctors could tell if anyone was dying until they were on their deathbed.”
“Neither did I. She does tend to exaggerate. Knowing her, it’s probably indigestion.”
“Her health hasn’t been that good in recent years.” Anthony pointed out. “Most of it is probably from worrying about you too much.”
Nathan snorted. “She doesn’t worry about anything or anyone except herself. It’s her image that’s important, nothing else.”
“You’ve got that right.” Anthony grunted. He ran his hand through his hair. “I know she’s your mother and everything, Nathan, but I’m not too impressed by Lady Brixton. She’s not a nice person.”
“You don’t need to be worried about offending me. You know me too well.” Nathan bit back a smile. “As long as you don’t say it to her face.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
