He nodded, but his face was on fire. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her hand to his forehead. Her cool skin felt better than a wet rag there.
‘I boiled the surgeon’s instruments in what was left of the tea. He was angry with me, but he got most of the bullet out of your chest. The rest of the shrapnel pieces he said could stay there. Then I washed your chest again with spirits and soap and sewed you back together. My sister-in-law Louisa will be so proud of my needlework.’
‘Why the Bordeaux?’
She shook her head and kissed his brow. ‘You are very obsessed with the Bordeaux, but I suppose that is a good thing. You have decided to live. I will search Mama’s cellars for some after I help you with a proper bath. The sponge bath I gave you did not get everything.’
Despite the agony of pain, his body felt strangely light. Frederica’s every touch and kiss filled the empty hole in his chest.
‘I smell like a cow house.’
She smiled at his words and a shot of pure joy went through him. He watched as she dipped a cloth into a bowl of water and placed it on his brow.
‘That’s where Scovell found you.’
Samuel smirked, even though he felt like he was lying on a bed of nails. ‘It serves me right for taking off my officer’s coat. My body was thrown in with the regular foot soldiers. Will not Grant be pleased to hear that not wearing my uniform landed me in a cow house?’
Frederica shook her head, smiling back at him through tears. ‘Oh, no, Samuel. Whatever you do, do not start Lieutenant-Colonel Grant on his diatribe about intelligence agents and uniforms.’ She paused and sniffed. ‘I am so sorry that I did not find you sooner. I was told by one of Wellington’s staff that you were dead and I foolishly believed them.’
He blinked rapidly. The general thought he was dead. Samuel felt a pang of guilt. The poor man would be mourning him and all the other lost officers. Perhaps feeling that he had played a part in their deaths. He was their leader. Their general.
‘I ought to go see Wellington and tell him that I am alive. He has been like a father to me and a much better one than my own.’
‘Excellent idea, my love.’
He tried to sit up and fell back against the pillows, gasping in pain.
Frederica pressed another kiss to his brow. ‘Wellington will have to wait. Besides, you would not wish to see him smelling of cow. Let us just try to get you into the carriage. You can have a bath when we arrive at my mother’s rented house and then I will send a note with Jim to the general telling him that you are alive.’
He watched her go to the door and call for a servant. A tall muscular man who looked like a groom entered the confined space. Samuel vaguely recognised the fellow. Somehow, Frederica and the male servant got him to his feet and together they helped him from the house and to the carriage.
Glancing around, he saw that the sun was setting. It would be night soon, but not even darkness could cover the smell of death that hung in the air.
Frederica climbed into the carriage first and the male servant lifted Samuel like a sack of wheat up to her. She placed his head in her lap and his body lay on the seat beside her. His wife stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings. He closed his eyes for several minutes to regain his strength. The carriage jostled back and forth, but he could not complain about his current location.
Fighting to open his eyes, he said, ‘Do you know that I nursed you once?’
She caressed his brow and cheek with a cool hand. It felt wonderful. She smiled down at him. ‘When?’
‘I brought measles home from Eton when I was thirteen and kindly shared them with you.’
He felt her smile as she pressed another kiss to the side of his head. ‘Measles were probably the only gift you gave me freely growing up. Besides the chocolates, when you told me that I was immature.’
Samuel felt his lips twitch into a smile, the pain in his chest subsiding a little. ‘My mother and your mother didn’t want your sisters to catch the illness, so I was tasked to help with the nursing.’
‘That sounds about right. Was I a good patient?’
‘Of course not. You dumped the chamber pot on my head.’
Frederica broke out into laughter. His chin jiggled in her lap from her mirth. It hurt his aching head a little, but her pleasure was worth any pain he felt.
‘And was it full?’
He closed his eyes again, unable to keep them open despite himself. ‘Very.’
Chapter Thirty
It was a week later before Samuel could walk down the stairs with assistance and he no longer smelled like a cow. Happily, his wife and Jim had bathed him with generous amounts of red soap before General Lord Wellington had come to visit. He had embraced Samuel like a son. Samuel had never received so much as a handshake from his own father and was deeply moved by this brief sign of affection.