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Bertram nodded. “In the meantime, she should stay in bed?”
“Yes, that would be best. Once she’s strong enough, she can take the air once a day but should not overexert herself.”
“Understood. Well, thank you for your hard work Mr. Fischer.”
The doctor nodded with a tight smile. Bertram turned and left his tent. He had a strategy meeting with the various heads of infantry in the Duke of Wellington’s tent and so he headed in that direction. He passed various soldiers along the way, going about their business, and nodded to them as they walked by. He loved the camaraderie of the barracks where there was much less pandering to his status as a Duke.
He paused outside Wellington’s tent, clearing his throat loudly before entering. The Duke was at his table, poring over a map. He looked up as Bertram entered the room and smiled. “Good morning, Your Grace. And how did you sleep?”
Bertram huffed with laughter. “Well, the cot in the soldiers’ barracks is not as comfortable as mine, I can tell you that.”
“That’s what you get for helping damsels in distress. How is she doing?”
“Getting better, thank you for asking.”
“I don’t suppose she’s ready for questioning?”
Bertram tensed. “No, she isn’t.”
“Mmm…” Wellington looked skeptical. “Thybaut, you have to know that it has not escaped my notice how protective you are of this woman. Do I need to remind you that she is a traitor?”
Bertram shook his head, “No, you don’t. But she risked her life to warn me of the danger to me and mine and so my honor demands that I give her a chance.”
Wellington nodded. “I do understand that. But as you say, she risked her own life to save yours. If we can get her to talk, she can tell us more about these would-be assassins.”
Bertram sighed. “Give it another day or so, then I will ask her myself.”
Wellington stared at him without blinking.
“I know,” Bertram answered the look. “But she’s still weak and there’s no real urgency. The plan is proceeding as designed.”
“You do not know who she has spoken to about the Third Man, what messages she’s sent, none of that.”
“I do not think she sent any messages or met with anyone. She might have been on her way to do so when she got sick.”
“Might. Which means you don’t know. We cannot rely on conjecture.”
Bertram sighed. “Fine. I will speak with her tonight.”
Wellington nodded. “Good. Now, have you heard from the Third Man yet?”
Bertram shook his head. “Hardly. It’s barely been a week. I think we have to give him more time.”
“Mmm.” Wellington stared thoughtfully down at the table. “I shall defer to your expertise on this, Thybaut, but do not wait too long.”
Bertram nodded gratefully. “I won’t.” He left before Wellington could come up with more objections to his approach with Letty.
* * *
After the bath Mrs. Fischer gave her, Letty was feeling a lot better and a lot sharper. As a result, her predicament was much clearer to her. She was essentially a prisoner in the British barracks. By now, Andre the smuggler had already seen her message and would be wondering where she was. He might alert the French garrison that she was missing. She didn’t know what would happen next.
Will they assume I’ve turned traitor?
She’d lived under the stigma of being half-English for so long that she would absolutely not have been surprised if that happened. She kept watch on the entrance of the tent, taking note as to how busy the foot traffic was. She scanned the room for weapons, catching sight of a poker next to a charcoal stove whose fire was gently banked.
I could use that if I had to.
She blinked her eyes slowly, feeling how heavy they were. Somnolence took over and the world became darker by the minute. Suddenly she felt another presence in the room and tensed. Forcing her eyes open to slits, she saw a dark shape, bent over the Duke’s desk. He was fiddling with the Duke’s shaving kit, pouring something onto the razor and then rubbed it into the shaving strop as well.
