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A few minutes later the groom arrived with an overstuffed small paper bag. “I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but the feller at the coffee shop wouldn’t let me remove a pot of coffee and a cup from the premises. He said the miss would have to come and drink her coffee there. I did find some nice meat pies for her, though.” He handed over the bag, which Christopher immediately passed to Lady Moreton.

“That’s perfectly all right. I appreciate the effort,” she said before Christopher even had a chance to respond. “Could I ask you, please, to run one more errand for me? I need you to convey a message to Lord Colburne. Please tell him Lady Moreton needs him and his professional opinion urgently.” She gave the groom the address and sent him on his way.

The man did have the grace to pause and look to Christopher for permission to run the errand for the lady. Christopher gave him a slight nod, feeling ashamed he’d thought so little of her just a moment ago. Clearly, this Lord Colburne was someone with some medical knowledge. She was trying to help Freddie.

“Thank you,” she said, resuming her seat and opening the bag. She pulled out a pastry. Giving him a guilty look, she said, “I do hope you’ll pardon me.”

“Of course! Please, eat,” Christopher said quickly.

She gave him a grateful smile and bit into the pie. Juice rolled down her chin adorably. She caught it after dropping the bag on the bed next to Freddie. “Mmmm, this is so good!” she said as she swallowed.

Christopher just laughed and said, “Eat up, then.”

She didn’t need a second invitation, taking another healthy bite. As she did so, she lifted the bag and offered it to Christopher.

“No, thank you. They’re all yours,” he said.

“I’m certain I wouldn’t be able to eat more than one,” she protested.

“Then save it for later.”

“I’ll take it,” the man in the bed behind her said.

She turned and gave him a smile. “Your stomach is doing better, Ensign Milton?”

“No, but that sure smells good.”

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t want to be the one to clean up after it doesn’t agree with you.”

“Oh, come now, give a dying man a taste o’ that, at the very least?” he said, giving her a pleading smile.

“I don’t think you’re dying,” she said with a laugh.

“You don’t know,” he said with a pleading tone to his voice.

“Well, all right, but just half.” She pulled the second pie out of the bag and broke it in half, handing part of it to the ensign and, with a shrug, finishing off the rest herself.

“Where were you stationed, Ensign?” Christopher asked.

He and the man struck up a friendly conversation, but before long, a tall, slender, very blond, well-dressed man strode up to them. Christopher was on his feet immediately. He knew this man! “Crowther? It’s Crowther, isn’t it?”

He stopped and stared at Christopher, giving Christopher the overwhelming desire to scrunch his shoulders up and bury as much of his face behind his shirt points as possible. He forced himself to stay still. “Pennyston! What are you doing here?”

“Sergeant Freddie Jones was my batman,” Christopher said, indicating Freddie in his bed.

Crowther looked at the sleeping man. “Oh. Well, it’s good to see you.” He reached out a hand for Christopher to shake. “And it’s Colburne, now. My brother passed a few years ago,” he explained.

“I am sorry. He wasn’t…” Christopher said, shifting his eyes around the ward.

“No! No. He never bought a commission. Er, a hunting accident,” Colburne explained.

“Oh.” Christopher nodded.

“Lady Moreton,” Colburne turned to her. “You said it was urgent.”

“Yes,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her waist. “The doctor here thinks they’re going to have to take off Sergeant Jones’ leg because of the infection. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking a look?”

“How would Lord Colburne know any better than the doctor?” Christopher asked. “Not that I want Freddie to lose his leg, but…”

“I’m a physician,” Colburne explained. “While you were fighting the French, I was learning from them—in France, studying medicine,” he said with a smile. “Let me take a look.”

“Thank you!” Lady Moreton said, moving away so Colburne could have access to Freddie and his leg.

Christopher was pleasantly surprised when she moved around the bed to stand next to him. It was all he could do to not put a hand around her waist protectively. He wished he could comfort her in some way. She looked so worried.

They stood together in silence as Colburne revealed Freddie’s leg and then shook his head sadly as he removed the dressing. “This does not look good,” he said softly.

“Oh, dear,” Lady Moreton said. She wrung her hands nervously.

Christopher reached out and put a calming hand on hers. “Whatever happens, you’ll have done your best. And he will survive,” he said.

She looked slightly relieved at his words. “Thank you.”

How ridiculous that she was thanking him, when it was he who should be thanking her. She’d spent the entire night with his batman and then called in a second opinion to ensure that Freddie got absolutely the best treatment.

“Well, as I said, this doesn’t look good, but I don’t think we should rush to remove the leg just yet. Once this infection is gone, it may simply heal on its own,” Colburne said, looking up from his examination.

“The doctor thought the infection might spread,” Lady Moreton said.

Colburne frowned and prodded at Freddie’s leg a bit more. “No, I shouldn’t think so. It’s entirely localized to the wound. I say we give it a bit of time. If the fever continues for longer than twenty-four hours then, yes, it will mean that it will have spread. Otherwise”—he gave a shrug—“it should be fine.” He gave them a reassuring look. “I’ll just have a word with the man, and we’ll get this sorted out. Don’t you worry. And I’ll send a nurse to rebandage the leg with a fresh dressing.”

With that he strode away.

Christopher could hear Lady Moreton sigh with relief. “Very well, then.” She leaned across Christopher toward Freddie and whispered, “Do you hear that, Sergeant? You need to get over this fever, so you can keep your leg.”

Freddie shifted a little toward her but continued to sleep.

“It almost seems as if he heard you,” Christopher said, surprised.

She stood up and smiled at him. “I think he did.”

Oh yes, he would listen to her as well, so long as she continued to smile at him in that way.

“I say, Pennyston,” a voice pulled Christopher’s attention reluctantly away from Lady Moreton. He looked up to find Colburne smiling at him. “I beg your pardon, but I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a drink this evening at Powell’s?”

Christopher was confused. “Powell’s?”

“Have you just returned to Town?” Colburne asked. “Could you have not heard of the most popular new club?”

“Yes, I have just returned—two days ago—so, no I haven’t heard. What is it?” Christopher was intrigued.

“It’s owned by the Viscount Wickford and is the most popular gentleman’s club now—at least among a certain social set, by which I mean me, my friends, and half of parliament.” He laughed.

“Well, then…” Christopher was about to say yes when he smiled. Feeling the now almost-familiar pull of tight skin across his cheek reminded him of why he couldn’t. “I’d love to, but…”

“But what?” Colburne asked.

“It’s not yet become a favorite pastime to frighten grown men,” Christopher said, putting a hand to his damaged cheek. “Perhaps another time.”

Colburne frowned at him. “I’m sure you wouldn’t—”

“Believe me, I would,” Christopher said quickly. He could feel his chest tighten with anxiety. It was a real shame. He would have liked to have gotten to know Colburne again. They hadn’t been great friends in school, but he was the only other person, aside from Lady Moreton, who he didn’t seem to scare witless by his disfigurement. An idea struck. “Say, why don’t you come over to my home instead? We can have a drink, maybe a nice meal, and catch up.”

Colburne smiled and nodded at that. “I’d like that. Thank you. Say, why don’t I bring Warwick too?”

“Warwick? You mean Binton? Did the old duke…?”

“Yes, a number of years ago,” Colburne answered.

“Huh! Well, then, yes, of course, bring Warwick. It’d be good to catch up with him as well.” He couldn’t very well tell him not to, but Christopher did worry about how yet another person would react to his face. He didn’t anticipate this going well.

~April 13~

Ellen walked into Lady Ayres’ drawing room, eager for a relaxing afternoon of inspiring conversation and an enjoyable game of whist with her friends in the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society.

“Have you heard, Lady Colburne,” the Duchess of Kendell said as Ellen seated herself next to Diana after greeting everyone, “the Count Zollern might be coming to London.”

“No, I don’t know him, Your Grace,” Diana said, reaching forward to help herself to a buttery biscuit from the plate in front of her.

“Where is Count Zollern from, Your Grace? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of him or Zollern,” Ellen asked.

“It’s near Stuttgart,” the older lady said. She too was eyeing the plate of biscuits but then put a hand around her generous waist and took a sip of tea instead.

“Oh, that sounds fascinating,” Ellen said, accepting a cup of tea from the maid standing nearby.

“You speak German, do you not, Lady Colburne?” the duchess asked.

The younger lady gave a little laugh. “I did. Not very well, though, and it’s been nearly two years since the last time I had an opportunity to do so.”

“That’s right, you lived in Bavaria didn’t you?” Lydia asked, joining in the conversation. She was seated next to the duchess, so it was easy for her to have one ear toward their conversation and another to the conversation Ladies Blakemore and Ayres were having with Duchess Bolton on the other side of her.

“I lived in Munich, but not for very long and, as I say, my German was never very good, I’m afraid,” Diana said.

“Well, I’m sure the count will speak English,” Ellen said.

“Or French, I suppose,” Lydia speculated.

“Perhaps,” Diana said.

“Do you speak any languages aside from English, Lady Moreton?” Lydia asked.

“I was taught French for about six months before my governess gave up on me. To be honest, neither one of us tried very hard. She felt it silly to teach a foreign language to a young lady who would, in all probability, never leave the country,” Ellen admitted.

“What a shame! I’ve found it incredibly useful to be able to speak French. I was also taught to read Latin and Greek and have enjoyed the ability immensely,” Lydia exclaimed.

“Well, we are not all quite as adamant about reading Greek plays in the original,” Diana said with a laugh, teasing her good friend.

Lydia had the grace to blush slightly.

“It sounds as if your governess was much more dedicated to her profession than mine,” Ellen said with a smile. Inside, her stomach was turning into a knot of embarrassment at her ignorance. She had never thought education to be of much use to a young lady when she was young, and her governess had agreed. The only thing she’d ever truly learned was how to be a good wife, hostess, and to care for the infirm who, when Ellen was young, included both her governess and Moreton’s mother.

“I have to admit, the only reason I was enthusiastic to learn French was in the hope my father would take me to France with him for the races,” Diana said with a little laugh. She leaned toward Ellen and added in a quieter voice, “I probably would have been more like you and not learned a word otherwise.”

Ellen gave her a grateful smile. “So was it your ability to speak French that convinced your father to bring you with him?”

“I actually think it was the fact that I could race a horse well. The language would have come in time,” she said with a little shrug.

“How lucky you were to have such an opportunity,” the duchess said.