‘Never.’
Frederica gave a small watery chuckle. ‘I want to grow old with you.’
Samuel ran his palms up and down her back, sending shivers over her skin. ‘We will travel the world together and you can take over your mother’s company.’
‘Where will you take me first?’
‘Do you fancy a trip to Scotland? I have a little castle up there on a loch, very private, the perfect place for a wedding trip. That is of course if your mother has not already sold that property. Perhaps we’d better check with her before we set off?’
Frederica let out another watery chuckle. ‘A prudent idea.’
Samuel looked past her to the Duke of Wellington, who waved one hand at him. ‘I must go, my darling. We will be marching in front of your house. I will look for you at the window.’
‘I will be there.’
He took both of her hands in his and kissed one and then the other, squeezing them before he released them. Frederica watched him walk to Wellington’s side, and they left the ball together. It took all her strength to stay standing upright on her own two feet, holding on to her painful side. It felt like he was walking away with her heart and leaving her chest with a large gaping hole. The tears that she had not allowed to fall streamed down her cheeks and onto her white bridal gown.
Mama put a gentle arm around her shoulders and held Frederica for several minutes while she sobbed. She accepted a handkerchief from her mother and wiped her eyes and nose with it. Glancing around the large room that had been full when she arrived, she realised that more than half of the guests had already gone.
‘The soldiers are going to march past our house,’ Frederica said, sniffling. ‘I should like to see them.’
‘Then we will leave at once.’
Mama shepherded Frederica to the entrance, where they waited only a short time for Jim and the driver to arrive with their carriage. And back at their house on Rue de Lombard, her mother asked Harper to move two chairs to face the front windows.
They sat together, mother and daughter, watching regiment after regiment pass by—the Brunswickers, Scotch, and English. Frederica did not think she could have slept through it even if she had wished to. Noises filled the air: carts and wagons clattering against the stone road, soldiers blowing bugles and beating drums, horses neighing, and people shouting farewells. Frederica recognised the Gordon Highlanders at once by their tartans and kilts. They marched by in perfect formation and fearlessness. Standing before them was a trio of bagpipe players that played a lively Scottish jig. She saw Mark riding a horse. She waved and smiled. He tipped his hat to her.
Shafts of light peeked through the chimneys and over the rooftops—morning had come. Mama retired to bed, but Frederica stood at the window, determined to stay awake until Samuel came by.
At last, she saw the unforgettable face of the Duke of Wellington, and on his right, mounted on his exquisite mare, rode Samuel. He was still dressed in his bright red dress uniform coat. Frederica tapped against the glass and waved furiously. Samuel kissed his hand to her and was gone from her sight within moments.
Slumping down into her chair, she fell fast asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
General Wellington led his staff to Quatre Bras. When they rode into the small Belgian town, Samuel felt the hair on his arms rise—it had already begun. He saw the French army charge against the Dutch Belgians. Instead of holding their positions in the abandoned houses and sheds, the soldiers fled for the Bossu wood in a panic. Samuel saw his friend the Prince of Orange raise his sabre high in the air and yell for his troops to turn and fight, but the soldiers did not heed him.
Wellington swore in disgust.
The Prince of Orange turned on his horse and saw Wellington and Samuel. He galloped towards them in a fury, his thin face red from a mix of exertion and embarrassment.
‘’Pon my soul, my men were holding fine, returning shots, until the French cavalry charged with their shouts of“Long live the emperor!”’ Billy explained, ‘and my force buckled.’
‘Obviously,’ Wellington said dryly. ‘We have no time for excuses. Go back to the woods and rally your troops to fight man to man in the trees. You will hold the French at Bossu woods.’
Billy saluted Wellington and galloped back to the forest with the same fury he had come with.
Wellington waved Samuel forward with a hand. ‘Pelford, we must find some way to hold our position. I have no great confidence in the Dutch Belgians. We cannot lose possession of the Nivelles-Namur road, or we will lose contact with the Prussians.’
Samuel pointed. ‘Lord Wellington, look. Picton’s forces are not a half a mile down the road. All is not lost.’
Wellington took a small spyglass from his pocket and looked through it. Samuel saw his mouth move as Wellington counted the infantry and light cavalry brigade divisions.
He closed his spyglass. ‘Pelford, you must tell Picton that he has to hold the French. No matter the cost.’
Samuel saluted the general and urged his tired horse towards Lieutenant-General Picton and his men. He relayed the message and the Welshman let out a string of vile curses.
‘Get on with you, Pelford. Tell Wellington that we’ll hold the line.’