Read Online My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) by Hazel Statham - Free Book Online
Authors: Hazel Statham
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coffee.
“How are you this morning, sir?” she asked, adjusting his pillows so that he might be eased to a more comfortable position. “Does your head still pain you?”
“Only slightly,” he lied valiantly. “I will not remain abed, Jane, bring me my clothes, I must see what is to be done. I will not tolerate this delay.”
“ You will do nothing of the kind, sir; you will stay where you are. I cannot believe by the paleness of your countenance and the bruising that is fast forming about your eyes that you are well enough to leave your bed. The doctor is expected shortly, he will say whether or not you are able to get up.”
The duke ’s chin firmed and a militant light lit his eyes. “That he will not, my girl; I have no need of a sawbones. I am perfectly able to rise.” So saying he lifted himself off the pillows but was immediately obliged to lean back as his surroundings spun unrelentingly before his eyes. “Maybe a little later then,” he conceded reluctantly, allowing Jane to pour him a measure of the doctor’s draught to ease the throbbing in his head.
When the medication had started to take effect and the pain subsided to a bearable level, he bade Jane to sit beside him and tell him what had happened the previous day.
“I will tell you, sir,” she said seating herself beside the bed, “but you must remain quiet and still.” A grimace was his only reply and she commenced. “As I have said, the storm had brought down several trees onto the road, they must have been struck by the lightening. The coachman was unable to avoid them at the pace we were traveling and of course the inevitable happened. As you were standing you were thrown heavily against the side.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” he asked, frowning and trying to remember the moment of impact.
“I am ashamed to say that you broke my fall,” she said with a rueful smile, attempting levity, “I was but shaken. Luckily, Hills and the coachman were thrown clear and suffered only a few minor cuts and bruises.”
“ Why the shots? Were we under attack? What happened?” His frowned deepened, but immediately he drew in his breath, the contracting of his brows causing him a great deal of pain.
“ It was banditti, sir, who attempted to waylay us and if it had not been for the intervention of Sgt. Patterson and his men, the situation would have ended quite differently. They drove off the banditti and then they helped us to bring you to the inn and to get the coach to a smithy.”
Robert was thoroughly perplexed. Try as he might he had no memory of the encounter. “Who the devil is Sgt. Patterson, and how does he come into this narrative?”
She became serious, not knowing how he would take the information she was about to impart. “He tells me that he and his men are deserters from Wellington’s army…”
“Deserters?” His brow darkened still further.
She laid a hand on his shoulder, afraid that he would attempt to rise and hastily continued with the explanation. “Sgt. Patterson said that for several days after the battle at Badajos, the troops sacked the town, some of the men deserting when parties of NCOs were sent in to quell the looting and arrange firing squads. The sergeant went after them to try to talk sense into them, but before he could find those of his regiment who had absconded, Wellington had broken camp and headed north. Sgt. Patterson and several of his men have broken away from the main band of deserters. It had been their intent to return to the ranks but if ever they do catch up with the brigade, they will face a firing squad. In effect, they are outlawed. That is how they came to be camped in the woods, but when our coach overturned and they found out that we were English they desired only to help us. Indeed when they knew who we were and why we had come to Portugal, they insisted that they help. The sergeant is coming to see you later this morning; he says that if you are well enough to receive him, he must
“How are you this morning, sir?” she asked, adjusting his pillows so that he might be eased to a more comfortable position. “Does your head still pain you?”
“Only slightly,” he lied valiantly. “I will not remain abed, Jane, bring me my clothes, I must see what is to be done. I will not tolerate this delay.”
“ You will do nothing of the kind, sir; you will stay where you are. I cannot believe by the paleness of your countenance and the bruising that is fast forming about your eyes that you are well enough to leave your bed. The doctor is expected shortly, he will say whether or not you are able to get up.”
The duke ’s chin firmed and a militant light lit his eyes. “That he will not, my girl; I have no need of a sawbones. I am perfectly able to rise.” So saying he lifted himself off the pillows but was immediately obliged to lean back as his surroundings spun unrelentingly before his eyes. “Maybe a little later then,” he conceded reluctantly, allowing Jane to pour him a measure of the doctor’s draught to ease the throbbing in his head.
When the medication had started to take effect and the pain subsided to a bearable level, he bade Jane to sit beside him and tell him what had happened the previous day.
“I will tell you, sir,” she said seating herself beside the bed, “but you must remain quiet and still.” A grimace was his only reply and she commenced. “As I have said, the storm had brought down several trees onto the road, they must have been struck by the lightening. The coachman was unable to avoid them at the pace we were traveling and of course the inevitable happened. As you were standing you were thrown heavily against the side.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” he asked, frowning and trying to remember the moment of impact.
“I am ashamed to say that you broke my fall,” she said with a rueful smile, attempting levity, “I was but shaken. Luckily, Hills and the coachman were thrown clear and suffered only a few minor cuts and bruises.”
“ Why the shots? Were we under attack? What happened?” His frowned deepened, but immediately he drew in his breath, the contracting of his brows causing him a great deal of pain.
“ It was banditti, sir, who attempted to waylay us and if it had not been for the intervention of Sgt. Patterson and his men, the situation would have ended quite differently. They drove off the banditti and then they helped us to bring you to the inn and to get the coach to a smithy.”
Robert was thoroughly perplexed. Try as he might he had no memory of the encounter. “Who the devil is Sgt. Patterson, and how does he come into this narrative?”
She became serious, not knowing how he would take the information she was about to impart. “He tells me that he and his men are deserters from Wellington’s army…”
“Deserters?” His brow darkened still further.
She laid a hand on his shoulder, afraid that he would attempt to rise and hastily continued with the explanation. “Sgt. Patterson said that for several days after the battle at Badajos, the troops sacked the town, some of the men deserting when parties of NCOs were sent in to quell the looting and arrange firing squads. The sergeant went after them to try to talk sense into them, but before he could find those of his regiment who had absconded, Wellington had broken camp and headed north. Sgt. Patterson and several of his men have broken away from the main band of deserters. It had been their intent to return to the ranks but if ever they do catch up with the brigade, they will face a firing squad. In effect, they are outlawed. That is how they came to be camped in the woods, but when our coach overturned and they found out that we were English they desired only to help us. Indeed when they knew who we were and why we had come to Portugal, they insisted that they help. The sergeant is coming to see you later this morning; he says that if you are well enough to receive him, he must
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