That was why he was insisting on attending the Duke of Wellington’s dinner party despite the objections of both his wife and his mother-in-law. Neither thought that he should leave his bed yet. It was a miracle that he was alive. Samuel ascribed his recovery to his wife’s love. Whereas Frederica was certain that it was the anti-infection qualities of her red soap. Either way, his wife had saved his life.
Dunford made sure that Samuel’s military uniform and appearance were perfection, but his wife eclipsed him. Frederica wore a sombre grey dress with a delicate black lace overlay. Diamonds hung from her ears and wrists and neck. She was more beautiful than a queen and by some stroke of fate, and a contract involving a large amount of shares in a perfume company that was about to expand to red scented soaps, she was his wife.
Freddie insisted on holding his arm as they walked together down the stairs at a very slow pace. Her hold on him tightened with each step and he was relieved to reach the bottom with circulation still in his fingers. Lady Hampford stood in the entry waiting for them to leave. Raising a hand, she wiped a tear from her eye. It was the most emotion that he had ever seen her display. His mother-in-law was usually as cool as a cucumber and as direct as a drill sergeant.
‘Frederica, you look stunning,’ she said with a sniff. ‘And, Samuel, you look very handsome. I always knew that the two of you would make the perfect pair.’
Releasing her death grip on his arm, Frederica grinned and twirled around for her mother. ‘Thank you, Mama.’
Pride filling his chest, Samuel pulled out his pocket watch. ‘We had best be going. Wellington is a military man and expects people to be on time. He did say nine o’clock and it is a quarter till. Goodnight, Lady Hampford.’
He surprised the duchess by kissing her cheek and then held out his arm for Frederica. He leaned on her for support, even though they both had bullet wounds. Once they were alone in the carriage, he showed her just how beautiful he thought she looked. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth. His wife must have thought he cleaned up rather well too, for she returned his kisses with the great enthusiasm of hers that he had grown to love. And he no longer minded that she had to have the last word—or kiss, in this particular instance.
When they arrived at Wellington’s headquarters, Samuel fixed a few of Frederica’s curls that had come loose. Nothing he did could dim the glow in her cheeks and the light in her eyes, nor the slightly swollen nature of her lips. They did not detract from her beauty, but added to it. She looked like a woman who was well loved. And he meant to love her well for as long as he lived.
Longer even.
Together, they entered the house and were led to a parlour. He walked slowly like an old man, but Frederica stayed near him. Her bright smile infectious to every person that they passed.
They overheard the Duke of Wellington speaking to Colonel Scovell. ‘This is too bad, thus to lose our friends.’
Scovell gravely shook his head. This was the man to whom he owed his life.
Wellington sighed, bringing a fist to his chest. ‘I trust it will be the last action any of us see.’
‘I hope so,’ Frederica whispered into Samuel’s ear. It tickled and sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He felt recovered enough to help his beautiful wife in their heir-begetting efforts this very evening. He had promised her a palace full of children and by golly, he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Wellington moved to welcome each of his guests. He kissed Frederica’s hand and squeezed Samuel’s hand tightly. ‘I am honoured that you would come, Pelford. You always were such a dependable member of my staff. Like a son to me.’
Samuel felt too pleased to speak, so he smiled. His own father may not have been worthy of the title, but he had beenfatheredby great men. First, the Duke of Hampford. And second, the Duke of Wellington. Both men had helped him reach his potential as a man and as a soldier. He did not need to worry any more about becoming like his father. He never would. Samuel would be a father like Hampford and Wellington. One who taught, lifted, and praised.
They sat down at the dining table that had been used to plan the battle. Samuel could almost imagine that was their purpose, for Frederica was the only woman among them. He hoped that she did not feel out of place. But she had helped earn the victory just as much as any man in the room. She had spied on the French and taken a bullet to bring back that important information.
Despite the delicious food and victory fanfare, there was a sober feeling in the room. Samuel was certain that he was not the only person who felt it.
Too many seats were empty.
Too many of their friends would never see their families or homes again.
Frowning, the general twirled his wine in his glass. ‘Nothing except a battle lost can be half as melancholy as a battle won.’
‘What do you reckon our losses were?’ Scovell asked.
Wellington shook his head, setting down his wine glass. ‘It has been a damned serious business. Blücher and I have lost thirty thousand men. It has been a damned nice thing—the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life... By God! I don’t think it would have done if I had not been there... Indeed, the losses I have sustained have quite broken me down, and I have no feeling for the advantages we have acquired.’
Samuel could not have agreed more. The battle had been closer than anyone liked to admit and without the steady guidance of the general, the result might have been quite different.
Placing both of his hands on the table, Samuel pushed his sore body to his feet. He lifted his glass in the air. ‘To Lord Wellington, who held his line like iron until the victory. To the Iron Duke.’
Every person at the table, including Frederica, stood and raised their wine glass and repeated, ‘The Iron Duke.’
Epilogue
Frederica and her husband stood on the stony shore of a Scottish freshwater loch, surrounded by green mountains. It was a glorious sight and she eagerly turned her head to see every angle. The glen was bathed in sunlight and she was glad to be carrying a white parasol that matched the little flowers on her blue morning gown of figured muslin. Her parasol had a dual purpose: to block the sun and to use as a weapon.
The wife of the Duke of Pelford always needed to be prepared.
Samuel wore a plain brown jacket and buckskin breeches. He had taken off his boots and his feet were bare. From his clothing, no outsider could have guessed that he was a decorated soldier and duke. He was so rugged and handsome that it took her breath away and butterflies danced in her stomach. She watched him untie the rope from a post and step into a small rowboat. Once he found his balance, he held out his hand to her.