what was happening and what was about to happen on the borders between France and Belgium. He was as eager as anyone else for some definite word, and he looked, as everyone else did, for the duke, and wondered what his absence might mean.
He happened to have Susan Jennings on his arm when some Scottish soldiers, splendidly clad in their kilts and full Highland dress, marched into the ballroom to the music of the bagpipes and entertained the company with reels and strathspeys. It was difficult to imagine that the same soldiers might be in battle before another day was done. Difficult, that was, unless one stood quite still for a moment and felt the very tangible tension behind the surface gaiety of the ballroom.
“How wonderful they are!” Susan said. “I wish I were Scottish every time I see them.”
“I think I am glad I was never called upon to use my wind to blow into those pipes,” Lord Eden said. “Has your husband left already, Susan? I have not seen him.”
“He is still here,” she said. “And please do not talk about his leaving or anyone else’s leaving. I shall faint quite away at the very thought.”
“You, Susan?” he said, smiling down at her. “You have a great deal more courage than you will admit to, my dear. You were in Spain. And you have remained here.”
“I try,” she said, raising large tear-filled eyes to his. “I try to be brave, my lord, but I am just a poor timid thing, as you must know. I must be a burden on those who know me.”
“I am sure you are not,” he said. “I am sure your husband honors your courage, Susan. It takes far more fortitude to appear brave when one feels afraid, you know.”
“I try to be brave,” she said, one tear spilling over and down her cheek. “You understand how hard it is for me, my lord. Thank you. My husband is sometimes rather brusque with me. Though I do not believe he means to be unkind.”
Lord Eden smiled and was relieved to see that the orchestra was ready to begin the next set of dances. He was engaged to dance it with Madeline.
The Duke of Wellington, looking as genial and relaxed as he always did in society, arrived at the ball soon after midnight. But any hope-or fear-that the latest rumors and panic were as ill-founded as all those that had preceded them was almost immediately put to rest. The duke, normally reluctant even to mention military matters at a social event, admitted that the troops were finally off to war the next day.
Later, during supper, a dispatch was delivered to the Prince of Orange with the news that Charleroi had fallen and that the French were already twenty miles into Belgian territory. But the news caused a sensation only to a very depleted gathering. Most of the officers had already taken their leave in order to rejoin their regiments.
Lord Eden sought out Madeline before he left. He drew her into the hallway beyond the ballroom, but there was no chance of any great privacy. It did not matter. Under the circumstances, two people could find all the privacy they needed merely by looking into each other’s eyes.
She clung to his hands. “You are going, Dom?” she said. “I am glad I have stayed. I have always hated you for this, you know, and have thought it all so senseless. But sometimes the most senseless and brutal deeds are necessary. And this is. I can see it, having been here for a while. You have every reason to go. You are using your life heroically. I am very proud to be your twin.”
He was rather white-faced. “Mad,” he said, and swallowed, “I always hate this business. You know that. What can I say that will have any meaning?”
She smiled. “Nothing,” she said. “We don’t need words, you and I. Just go, Dom. Go now, my dear.”
He squeezed her hands until she bit her lip with the pain. “Don’t grieve too much for me,” he said. “If anything happens, go on living, Mad. And be happy. This is something I want to do, and I do not regret what it may cost me.”
“Go,” she said, still smiling. “Kiss me once and go.”
He held her hands still as he kissed her. “I’ll be back,” he said with a sudden grin before turning and hurrying away down the stairs. “I have no intention of relinquishing my claim to be the elder twin, you know.”
She stood smiling after him until he was out of sight. And then the fan that she held broke in two in her hands.
Lord Eden hurried back to his billet to change out of his ball clothes, and found Captain Norton all ready to leave, alert and smartly dressed now that it was time to go into action.
“You go on ahead,” Lord Eden said when it seemed that the captain would have waited for him. “I promised to call on Simpson if there was need. We will catch up to you somewhere.”
His friend grinned at him. “Don’t delay too long,” he said. “You might miss all the fun.”
“Not a chance!” Lord Eden said with a laugh, hurling a silk shirt to the floor and trampling over it a moment later as he went for his boots.
Charlie was not in bed, he found less than half an hour later as he knocked on the door to his rooms. There was light within. If he knew his friend, he was probably all ready to leave.
Their faces were very set and without expression, he saw immediately when Charlie opened the door. He tried to smile. “It’s time to go,” he said.
He would have turned and left, but Charlie went from the room, and Mrs. Simpson stood looking at him. Her face was quite composed and quite without color. She held out both her hands to him.
“You will take care of yourself,” she said.
“Yes.” He smiled and took her hands. “And you, ma’am.”
There was a wonderful comfort in her presence. He never had known what caused it. He would have avoided taking any leave of her if he could. But he was not sorry now that he was holding her hands and looking down into her eyes. Perhaps Charlie was to be envied after all. He squeezed her hands.
“Come home again,” she said quietly. “Please come back again.”
“Yes,” he said.
And when he released her hands, she came into his arms and raised her face for his kiss. And he felt none of the terrible sick panic he had felt with all the others-with Edmund and Alexandra and the children, with Madeline. Only a certain peace as he kissed her and then hugged her to him and breathed in that fragrance from her hair that had haunted him for a few days. And a release of new energy that was no longer nervous energy, but a purposeful desire to go out and do the job that he was trained to do.
He smiled down at Ellen Simpson as she released him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. And he looked up briskly at his friend, who had been standing quietly in the room since she had spoken her last words. “I’ll see you outside in a few minutes, Charlie.”
Ellen turned to her husband and looked at him as if down a long tunnel. He held out his arms to her.
“Well, lass,” he said.
“Charlie.” She put herself against him, her face pressed to his shoulder.
And he rocked her in his arms. They communicated at a level far deeper than words. He put her from him eventually and held her face in his hands.
“My precious, precious treasure!” he whispered, and kissed her once, briefly, on the lips. “My sweetheart.”
“Go now,” she said as she always said to him on such occasions.
And after the door had closed quietly behind him, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She did not dare move. Not yet.
So. It was done. She had sent her men on their way, and there remained only the wait to see if either or both of them would come back to her again.
Charlie, her love. The light of her life. The precious only light. The only person on this earth she would gladly, gladly die for. The only person she could not-dared not-contemplate living without.
And Lord Eden-Dominic. Her husband’s friend. Her friend. Beautiful, smiling, charming Lord Eden, whom she had seen reluctantly, unwillingly, in the past weeks as a man. As a very attractive man of her own age. And now he was going with Charlie into the carnage of war. She might never see him again.
And so she had sent him on his way with her love. She had kissed him as a mother might. As a sister might. And perhaps a little differently from either.
And Charlie was gone.
Charlie was gone.
