He couldn't conceal his eagerness and Judith felt a great surge of affection for him, followed by apprehension. So many young men all so ready to find a bloody death on the battlefield.
"My first battle," he said.
"Yes, and you will be brave as a lion," she said, smiling with a great effort. "Come, I'll see you off."
She walked with him downstairs. Men in uniform milled around the hall. Orders were hastily and quietly given. Groups of soldiers took their leave, trying to appear as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened as they went through the great doors standing open to the stone steps outside. Once outside, however, discretion went to the four winds and they were off and running, calling for carriages, yelling orders and information.
Judith reached up and kissed Charlie lightly on the corner of his mouth. "Be safe."
"Oh, yes, of course I shall." He was impatient to be off, his eyes chasing?round the hall. "Oh, there's Larson. He's in my company."
"Off you go, then." She gave him a friendly little push. He gave her a rueful, slightly guilty smile, then ducked his head and kissed her with a jerky bob.
"I do think you're wonderful, Judith."
"Of course you do," she said. "Be off with you. You have more important things on your mind now than dalliance."
"Yes, yes I have. That's quite true."
She waggled her fingers at him as he backed away into the crowd. He grinned suddenly, blew her a kiss, and then turned and plunged into the melee, calling for his friend.
Feeling stricken, Judith turned and went back up the stairs. Sebastian was looking for her. He held her cloak, his own already around his shoulders. "Judith, I must take you home."
She glanced around at the emptying salons. "Yes, there seems little point remaining. Although maybe we might hear some more news."
"There'll be no more news to be had here." Her brother draped the gold taffeta cloak around her shoulders. "Wellington and Clausewitz have left with their entourages. They're to set out for Quatre Bras within the half hour." He urged her down the stairs with an impatient hand under her elbow.
"What's your hurry, Sebastian?"
"Oh, come on, Ju." He looked anxiously around. "I don't want to miss anything."
"Miss what?"
"The battle," he said, again propelling her down the stairs.
"You're going?" But she knew the answer. It would be impossible for Sebastian to kick his heels in Brussels while the fate of Europe was being decided such a short distance away.
He gave her the same rueful, slightly guilty smile she had received from Charlie. "I'd give my eye teeth to have a crack at Boney myself, Ju. Since I can't do that, I must at least be there."
She made no attempt to dissuade him. If their lives had been different-had been as they should have been -her brother's birthright would have included a pair of colors in the Scots Greys, the regiment that had seen the service of generations of Devereux. It must be torment for him to be forced to stand on the sidelines while his peers in their brilliant regimentals plunged into the fray.
But soon it would be put right. Soon Sebastian would reclaim his birthright. She linked her arm through his and squeezed it tightly. He returned the squeeze ab-sentmindedly and she knew that for once his thoughts were a great distance away from her own.
5
At their lodgings, Judith waited in the sitting room while Sebastian changed out of his evening dress and into buckskins and riding boots.
"Where are you going to find a horse?"
"Steven Wainwright has offered to mount me on his spare nag." He checked through his pockets, counting the bills in his billfold. "You'll be all right, Ju?"
She wasn't sure whether it was statement or question. "Of course. We'll meet here when it's all over."
He bent to kiss her. "I hate to leave you… but…"
"Oh, go!" she said. "Don't give me a second thought. But just be careful. We have things to do and we can't risk a stray bullet."
"I know. Do you doubt me?" The excitement faded in his eyes to be replaced by the shadowed intensity so often to be found in his sister's.
She shook her head. "Never."
Judith listened to his booted feet on the stairs and the slam of the front door. She went to the window overlooking the narrow lane and watched as he strode, almost at a run, toward the center of town.
It was four o'clock in the morning and the city was as alive as if it were midday. Bells were ringing; people leaned out of windows in their nightcaps, shouting across the narrow lanes. She could hear the roar of the crowds in the streets a short distance away, a roar edged with hysteria. The citizens of Brussels were terrified.
Judith had no intention of missing the drama herself, although she couldn't have told Sebastian that. It would have ruined his own adventure. Swiftly she changed out of her ball dress into a dark-blue riding habit of serviceable broadcloth and drew on her York tan gloves. She unlocked the wooden chest under her bed, put away the paste jewelry she had been wearing, and took a wad of bank notes from the supply, tucking them away in the deep pocket of her coat. Into the other pocket went her pistol, cleaned and primed.
She let herself out of the house, locking the door behind her, then hesitated, wondering which direction to take. She needed transport, but she suspected that tonight horses couldn't be acquired for love or money. The inhabitants of Brussels would be holding onto their horseflesh in preparation for flight.
Following a hunch, she turned into an alley that would lead her even farther away from the fashionable part of town, into the poorer commercial areas. The people here would see less need to run from the ogre.
Raucous shouts, singing, and laughter came from a tavern at the end of the lane, yellow light spilling from the open door onto the mired cobbles. Some people were not intimidated by the prospect of battle on their doorstep. A farmer's cart stood in the shadows and her heart leaped exultantly. Between the shafts, a thin horse hung a weary head.
Judith crept up to the cart, patting the nag's hollowed neck. The cart was empty so presumably its owner had sold his produce that evening and, judging from the noise within the tavern, was probably drinking up his profits. With luck he wouldn't surface for hours and she could return the horse before he'd missed it. She unhitched the bridle from the post. Cautiously she backed the horse and cart away from the tavern. Then she sprang onto the driver's seat, shook the reins gently, and clicked her tongue. With a heavy sigh, the horse pulled away down the lane.
As soon as she emerged from the poorer sections, Judith realized the panic in the city was full blown. Houses stood open as their residents ran back and forth with possessions, filling carriages and dog carts. Men and women hurried through the streets, and everywhere was heard the cry for horses.
As she drove down a narrow cobbled lane, two men came out of the shadows, seizing her nag by the bridle, close to the bit. The horse came to an immediate stop with a snort indicative of relief. "All right, miss, we're requisitioning your horse," one of the men said. He wore the baize apron of a servant, but the man accompanying him was a stout, florid gentleman in satin waistcoat and knee britches. He stood breathing heavily, hanging onto the bridle for dear life.
"On whose authority?" Judith demanded, her hand moving to her pocket, closing over the pistol.
"Never you mind on whose authority," the stout gentleman wheezed. "I need that horse."
"Well, so do I," Judith pointed out. "Let go of the bridle, if you please, sir."
The man in the baize apron came round to the side of the cart, his expression menacing. In his hand, he held a club. "Now, don't make trouble for yourself, miss. You step down from there nice and quick, and no one's going to get hurt."
"I hate to disillusion you, but someone is most definitely going to get hurt." Judith drew the pistol from her pocket, leveling it at the man with the club. "Step away from the cart, and you, sir, release the horse."