“Another life he’s saved,” Trevor gloated. “I’d expect nothing less from theNemesis of Napoleon.”
Seth shot him a look of reproach.
“Remember what we said about being quiet, Trevor?”
Trevor snapped his mouth closed and nodded.
Cassandra laughed next to him, a beautiful, twinkling sound. “TheNemesis of Napoleon?”
His eyes met hers for a second before he turned away, the back of his neck burning as the men in the vehicle laughed at his expense.
“OrdnanceExtraordinaire!” Cooper cackled.
“Protector of the Peninsula!” Mr. Sanderson chimed in.
The coachman half turned his head. “Hellion from Hampshire.”
Lady Jasmineroaredwith laughter.
“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” Cassandra asked.
“Because it’s humiliating,” Seth grumbled.
“I was sworn to secrecy under threat of death,” Cooper said.
“I have the entire set,” Mr. Sanderson whispered to Trevor, without lowering the volume of his voice. “Take good care of yours, they’ll be worth a fortune some day!”
“Oh, yes. Please monetize my misery further,” Seth muttered.
“I think it’s your turn for a story, Mr. Reeves,” Cassandra said.
“Yes!” Lady Jasmine cheered. “Tell us how you got so famous!”
Seth took a deep breath and steeled himself before responding. “In my battalion, there was a young ensign. Where others were loud and boisterous, Charles Thomas was quiet. Introspective.” Seth watched the trees roll by, old hurt clenching at his heart as he spoke the man’s name for the first time in years. “He always had a pencil in hand, scribbling away. I assumed he was writing letters home. I hadn’t known until the third publication that he was writing stories with my name on them.” He sighed. “All of it greatly exaggerated, of course. He wrote them to entertain his comrades over a campfire. I don’t think he expected to be such a success. From what I understand, he made a small fortune off of the pamphlets.”
“Where is your writer friend now? Living in a mansion by the sea?” Lady Jasmine asked. Cooper shook his head in a quick, jerking movement. Eyes widening, she gushed, “I’m so sorry. My mouth gets ahead of me. I truly didn’t mean to offend.”
Seth slumped against the cushions at his back. Cassandra placed her hands on her knees, and her small finger brushed against his leg with a subtle, grounding movement. “It’s all right,” Seth said after sometime. “Ensign Thomas was a good man. It’s good to remember him fondly, from time to time.”
There was no going back. He stole another lingering glance at Cassandra, finding her regarding him with a gentle, understanding smile. Nestled next to the woman he loved, surrounded by friends, old and new, it was time to move forward.
Red and yellow brick houses lined the crowded cobblestone streets of Ringwood. Wooden signs swayed with the light breeze over permanent store-fronts, all but smothered by the massive outdoor street market erected through the town. Merchants called out their wares over the sounds of fiddles and tambourines as musicians played in the town square. Warm scents of baked pies and roasted meat filled the air.
Children squealed with laughter as they barreled around him. Boys chased each other with sticks while girls tended to dolls made of corn husks, tied together with yarn. Well-dressed aristocrats mingled with dust-drenched farmers returning from the fields.
Several paces ahead, Lady Jasmine pulled Cassandra by the arm through the market booths. Cooper and Mr. Sanderson stopped to inspect hunting knives. Mr. Sanderson balanced a blade in his hand, crinkled his nose, but gave a polite smile as he returned it to the display table.
Seth trailed behind them, routinely stopped by townsfolk who recognized him. As a child, he would often run away here—if he got that far. Many knew him from their work at Hollingsworth Manor and developed a soft spot for him. They fed him and provided him with a safe place to sleep until Margaret inevitably came to fetch him.
As he finished his conversation with the town butcher, Seth noticed Cassandra had extricated herself from her friend. Instead, it was Cooper on Lady Jasmine’s arm. His face carried a note of surprise asshe pulled him away, mischief written plainly in her smile.
He searched for Cassandra’s bonnet in a sea of hats. A flash of pink dipped into the apothecary, and he followed her inside. The bell above the door gave a welcoming jingle. At the counter, the shopkeeper glanced in his direction, but a paying customer reclaimed her attention.
On simple wooden shelves, glass bottles and jars housed herbs, tinctures, and soaps. In a section toward the back, Cassandra removed the lid from a glass container, lifted it to her nose, made a face before closing it and repeated the process with the next jar down the line. The next one appeared to be more favorable, as she lifted it to her nose twice and twisted the jar to read the label.
He stepped in lightly, leaned in close, and whispered into her ear.
“Anything you like?”