“Then you must go.” Amelia nodded. “We can visit Aunt Betty another day.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “You are a pearl amongst wives.”
She mock-frowned at him. “I am your only wife. Unless you wish to follow your old regiment out to India where I understand it is the fashion to acquire several other wives.”
“One is enough for me. I doubt I will be long. May I suggest you prepare for our trip down to the coast anyway so that if time permits we will be able to leave as soon as I return?”
“If that is what you wish.”
He kissed her palm and then leaned in to kiss her mouth tasting chocolate on her lips. “I am not sure what the protocol is for releasing a man who has come back from the dead from military service, but I am fairly certain there is a regulation about it somewhere.”
She patted his cheek. “Then go and free yourself from servitude to your country. I will wait to hear from you.”
Marcus went through to his own rooms to change into his uniform and find his cloak and plumed hat. It was strange to think that he might no longer be obliged to wear a soldier’s garb anymore. He’d spent his whole adult life in the military. For several years he’d been a prisoner, reduced to struggling simply to survive, but he was still a soldier at heart.
He still couldn’t quite believe that during his lost years the great Napoleon had been defeated. Like many of the British soldiers, Marcus had looked forward to confronting the little Frenchman on a battlefield and proving once and for all the superiority of square over line. Since his return he’d heard many tales about the slaughter at Waterloo and the narrow victory the Allies had fought for.
If he’d been at the battle, he might not have survived. Many of his fellow officers hadn’t, and if it hadn’t been for the actions of the Prussian commander Blucher, the outcome might have been very different indeed.
“Thank you.” He nodded at his butler and stepped out into the square where a hackney cab was waiting for him. He’d decided not to drive to his regimental headquarters himself. Retaining new information still gave him a headache and learning the route would have strained his eyes.
He would be a useless military scout now.
Marcus stepped up into the dark interior of the cab and was immediately aware he wasn’t alone. Even as he attempted to draw his sword, an arm was looped around his throat and the tip of a dagger blade pricked his skin.
“Major Stortford, or should I say Havering? One can hardly keep up these days with your rapid progress through the ranks of society.”
He recognized that voice.
“Captain Fury.”
“I hear the Duke of Diable Delamere is asking after my health and that your dear friend Jack hasn’t yet returned.”
“Jack hasn’t come back. That’s all I know.”
“Did your wife not mention that the duke and duchess are very eager to hear about how you know me?”
Marcus kept quiet as the blade was slowly withdrawn and Captain Fury took the seat opposite. His face was half-covered by a woolen scarf and the brim of his old-fashioned tricorn hat shielded his eyes.
“You have my permission to tell the duke and Jack anything you wish,” Captain Fury said.
Marcus scowled. “That’s good of you, but I don’t remember you at all.”
“What a pity. I wish this matter resolved.”
“I can assure you the moment I see Jack it will be settled one way or the other.”
“Poor old Jack. You owe me more than you might imagine, Stortford. Far more than you could ever repay me, in truth. Do not kill Jack before he reports back to me. You can tell him that when you see him.”
“I’m not your messenger boy.”
Captain Fury shrugged. “If you don’t cooperate, I will simply take Jack before you catch a glimpse of him and you will never know the truth.”
“Take him. I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. From all accounts, your entire purpose since you regained your memory has been to find Jack and kill him.”
“Mayhap I have changed my mind.”
“While you chase after your new wife’s family?”
Marcus sat forward, his hand on his sword hilt. “My wife is not a subject I will ever care to discuss with you.”
Captain Fury had the gall to laugh. “Then do as I ask and tell Jack he is not free of me until he meets me in person and delivers his final report.”
Reaching up, the captain used his cane to bang on the roof of the carriage. “Always a pleasure, my dear Marcus. Give my best to your wife. One can only hope she retains her usual robust health.”
He descended from the hackney cab with a speed and agility that surprised Marcus, who cursed quietly into the now empty space opposite him. In essence, Captain Fury was ensuring that Jack stayed alive through his first encounter with Marcus. If Marcus killed him, the captain would retaliate, and his mention of Amelia hadn’t been reassuring.
Yet another reason to keep Jack alive. Marcus frowned. What did Fury think he should remember about him? He searched his memory. There was
something
familiar about the captain, but he was damned if he could remember what it was. Had he met him in France? He had a strange sensation that the connection was further back, but couldn’t yet pin it down.
“Here we are, Major! Regimental headquarters.”
Marcus got out of the cab and looked up at the driver, who was holding out his gloved hand.
“The other gentleman didn’t pay you?” He found a coin and tossed it up to the man who caught it easily. “What a surprise.”
“And there is no issue I can foresee, Major, to stop you resigning your commission because, as we have already discussed, the position was filled after your death was confirmed. We will, of course, accept your resignation, regardless, and consider paying back your financial stake.”
Marcus nodded politely. “Thank you, sir, although it hardly matters.”
“Just trying to keep the regimental records complete, Stortford. Although you’re Havering now, aren’t you? I’m sure you can appreciate that.” The general glanced down at his desk. “You may address your formal letter of resignation to me and have it delivered before the end of the week. We will, of course, note that your retirement from the military is with full honors.”
“Despite my failure to complete my last mission?”
An odd expression crossed the old soldier’s face. “For all intents and purposes, Llewellyn has already paid that price. I doubt anyone wishes to revive the matter.”
“What exactly happened to Jack?”
“He was dishonorably discharged after a private hearing. The records were kept confidential at his father’s request, but as you were intimately involved with the matter, you are welcome to read them.” He grimaced. “I don’t believe Llewellyn was even present at the trial, which meant he was doubly damned.”
“You liked him, then, sir?”
“I found it difficult to believe he was guilty, yes.” The general looked down at his hands. “But there was an element within the army who were desperate for a scapegoat and Llewellyn fitted the bill.”
Marcus frowned. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that Jack’s part in this debacle has been misinterpreted.”
“Well, one does have to wonder because why else would the same people recruit Llewellyn to do their dirty work?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“After his dismissal, Llewellyn worked for the Crown. Spying you might call it.”
“Which makes no sense at all,” Marcus muttered.
“Agreed.” His commanding officer stood up. “I hate to bring this discussion to a close, but I am due at the War Office within the next hour.”
“I understand.” Marcus stood as well and offered a last salute. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“And thank you for your service to this nation, harrowing as it obviously was.”
“To be honest, sir, I don’t remember a lot of it,” Marcus said. Nor would he share what he had remembered, because there was nothing heroic about being chained up, almost worked to death and left half starved.
“Speak to my adjutant about obtaining those trial records before you leave. He can look them up for you and send you a message when they are available to read. You’ll have to come here. They are not allowed out of our military archive.”
“Thank you.” Marcus came to attention, saluted smartly and walked out of the room. An unexpected sense of relief flooded him, which was instantly dented by thoughts of Jack and Captain Fury.
After speaking to the adjutant, Marcus decided to walk back to Stortford House. It was highly irregular of the army to employ a man they had discharged in a dishonorable fashion. What was even stranger was that Jack had apparently agreed to go along with it.
Deep in thought, Marcus stared out of the carriage window as they drove closer to the coast. Rain dashed the small windows, and the taste of salt lingered on his lips. He spared a thought for the coachman wrapped up in his coat and hat and hoped he wasn’t getting too wet.
“Amelia, did the duke mention a Captain Fury to you?”
His wife looked up from the book she was reading. “The duke didn’t, but the duchess did. She asked if you knew him. Why?”
“And when were you intending to pass that interesting piece of information on?”
“I forgot all about it when my brother turned up.” She reached across to take his hand. “I do apologize. Is it important?”
“It might be. Captain Fury is a mysterious figure who seems to know far too much about me, Jack and everyone else involved in this debacle.” He frowned. “Fury claims I know him better than I can recall. He probably has no idea how badly my memory has been affected by my captivity.”
“The duchess said Captain Fury was involved in smuggling and trading arms and information during the war. Apparently he didn’t mind whom he betrayed as long as he was paid his due.” She shuddered. “Not a very pleasant individual at all.”
“No.” Marcus touched his throat where there was a slight mark from Captain Fury’s dagger point. “He seems rather offended by the fact that I don’t recoil in fear from him. Perhaps I
should
care more, because there is definitely something about him that worries me greatly.”
“You’ve met him?”
“One could say that, although the meetings have so far been entirely by his choice, and not mine. He wishes me to keep Jack alive.”
“Did you tell him you intended to do that anyway?”
“No, but he intends to ensure my obedience in the matter.”
“How on earth could he do that?”
“By threatening those I hold dear.”
Her eyes flashed with indignation and she sat bolt upright. “He threatened
me
?”
“Exactly.”
“He should think again.”
A laugh shook through Marcus. “Indeed he should. Although I’d rather not put my faith in your resourcefulness to the test, my love. I devoutly hope that the two of you never meet in this world.”
The carriage slowed, turned off the main highway and began the slight descent toward Highcliff village.
“Are you ready to meet Aunt Betty?”
Amelia nodded, her expression strained. “I’m afraid of what she might tell me, but at the same time, I need to know the truth.”
As that was exactly how Marcus felt about his upcoming meeting with Jack, he could only empathize with her dilemma. He took her hand.
“Whatever happens, Amelia, I will stand as your friend. We will survive this together.”
“Thank you.”
“I am not sure exactly what you are asking me, Amelia, my dear.” Betty looked inquiringly from Marcus to Amelia.
“Did Matthew ever mention receiving letters from my family?”
“I don’t think so. Why would he?”
Amelia tried another tack. “Did he leave any letters or papers to you or his brother that I might not have known about?”
Betty frowned. “There was something… I believe Jonathan passed everything onto our family solicitor.”
“Tatlock?”
“Yes, that’s correct, dear. In the next village. They dealt with all the issues arising from the transfer of the cottage into Jonathan’s name. I found them most helpful and efficient.”
“Perhaps you could write a note to Mr. Tatlock giving him permission to speak to Amelia today, Aunt Betty? That would be most helpful,” Marcus suggested.
“That’s an excellent idea.” Betty rose in a flurry of motion. “Finish your tea, and I’ll compose something suitable.” She clasped her hands to her bosom. “I cannot
wait
to tell Jonathan your news, Amelia! He will be astounded! And you—” She swung around to Marcus. “—an
earl.
How thrilling! Just think, if I hadn’t begged Amelia to take you in off the street this might never have happened. It’s just like a fairy tale.”
Marcus picked up the tea tray as Betty ran to her desk. “If I may, I’ll just pop in and speak to Dotty in the kitchen before we go.”
Betty waved him away. “Please go ahead. She will be delighted to hear your good news.”
Amelia sat quietly as Betty’s pen scratched over the paper and the clock ticked away the seconds. Dove Cottage had changed very little in her absence, but it now felt very small. No wonder she had felt as if she were suffocating. If it hadn’t have been for her chance encounter with Marcus, would she now be trapped in a girls’ boarding school—or worse, the paid companion to an aging woman.
Whatever happened next she was grateful for the chance to live again, to spread her wings and enjoy every new experience. Marcus had given her that. He’d shaken her out of her shell of self-protection, dared her to take a chance on him and she would never forget it.
“Here you are, my love.” Betty pressed the letter into her hand and then cupped her cheek. “You are happy, Amelia?”
“Yes. Marcus is a very good man.”
“I knew that. And he is an earl!” Betty sighed. “How
romantic!”
“I suppose it is.” Amelia slowly smiled.
Looking up, she saw Marcus watching her from the doorway, and went to meet him.
“I have the letter of introduction. We should probably leave now if we wish to find Mr. Tatlock at his place of work.”
Betty clung to Marcus’s arm. “You will come back and see me again, won’t you? I can’t wait to tell everyone in the village what has happened to you both. The vicar and his wife will be flabbergasted by your good fortune.”