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T hey arrived back in London at mid-morning the following day, and Harrington delivered Diana to her brother’s home. The plan was for her to pack a few things and join him at Astley House that evening.

He had the coachman take him directly to Horse Guards.

William Windham received him immediately.

Harrington summarized their search during the house party and presented the transcribed letter.

“This is word for word. It looks like a simple recipe to my eyes, but I’ll let your office determine if there’s anything more to it. ”

“Good.” Windham glanced over the letter. “You picked up Swedish more quickly than I thought.”

Harrington hesitated but decided that honesty would be the best approach. “Truth be told, I didn’t. I don’t know if you heard, but I recently married. It happens that my wife speaks Swedish.” He cleared his throat. “I know you said to keep my assignment in the strictest confidentiality, but?—”

Windham waved this off. “It seems to have turned out all right. Who is your new bride, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Harrington shifted in his seat. “The former Lady Diana Latimer.”

The Secretary of State’s eyebrows shot halfway to his forehead.

Harrington chuckled. “I take it you’ve heard of her.”

“The richest heiress in all of England? Yes, I’d say I’ve heard of her.” Windham laughed. “And you were the one to land her. Gracious.”

“It’s not like that,” Harrington said hastily. “I don’t care about her money. I really don’t. She’s… well.” He swallowed. “She’s wonderful.”

The corners of Windham’s eyes crinkled. “Good for you.” He straightened, abruptly somber again. “Excellent work on this assignment, Lieutenant. That’s two successful commissions in a row. I will certainly keep that in mind when I find myself in need of assistance in the future.”

It was on the tip of Harrington’s tongue to say, Oh please, God, no . But he managed a tight smile. “Thank you, sir. Should I rejoin my unit in Hampshire, or?—”

The Secretary of State cut him off with a sweep of his hand. “Stay in London for the time being. I am sure we will have need of you soon enough.”

Harrington rose. “Yes, sir. I’m sure you have a hundred things to do, so I’ll take my leave.”

Windham, who was already reaching toward a stack of correspondence, waved him out absently.

He headed for the stairs, feeling strangely free.

It was the first time in a few years he hadn’t been at the army’s beck and call.

William Windham would probably come up with a new mission for him soon enough, but he might have a few days, or even a few weeks, of relative leisure.

The timing could not have been better. He and Diana would be able to enjoy a honeymoon of sorts.

He should probably find out what issues were currently being debated in Parliament now that he was an MP.

The thought still made him shudder, but quickly on its heels came the reminder that he would have Diana not just sharing his bed, but by his side.

No more sneaking around, no more struggling to find five minutes to ask her what the hell he should do.

The thought settled over him like a warm blanket, followed by the strangest conviction—that with her help, he could do this.

The only other matter of business facing him for the next few days was finding a townhouse to rent.

That notion also felt strange. The army was not what you would call a lucrative career, at least, not at the lowly rank of lieutenant.

For junior officers, the costs of uniforms and equipment usually exceeded what they received in salary, and it was something of a point of pride for noble families to take on the cost of outfitting their younger sons as an act of service for king and country.

Harrington had therefore never given much thought to establishing a household of his own.

He’d had no prospect of being able to afford it for at least another decade, if he survived that long.

But he quite liked the thought of setting up house with Diana. Hell, just talking to her was a delight, and if they were living in the same house, he would see her constantly, from breakfast to bedtime. The notion seemed almost too indulgent, like a never-ending dessert course.

And, of course, as they’d made it back to London, the promise her brother had extracted from him had been fulfilled.

That meant there was a very real possibility they would make love tonight.

The prospect was exciting for obvious reasons, but he also felt trepidation.

Because as things stood, they would be staying at Astley House tonight, with his little sister, Lucy, in the room next door.

He didn’t want anything to mar their first time making love. Maybe they should get a room at a hotel. Someplace where the sheets weren’t infested with fleas—the Pulteney, perhaps? Could he arrange for a room on such short notice?

Harrington was so distracted with thoughts of what he and Diana would be getting up to that evening that he almost ploughed into a man coming up the stairs. He realized with a start that it was General James Gordon, who held the post of Military Secretary.

He snapped to attention. “My apologies, General. I was lost in thought.”

“Lieutenant Astley.” A smile spread across General Gordon’s face. He gestured for Harrington to accompany him. “Come. It happens that you are just the man I was hoping to see.”

Harrington complied, because what else could he do? He had a sinking feeling that he had just leapt out of William Windham’s frying pan, straight into General Gordon’s fire, but he clung to the hope that the general merely had a few questions about the retreat from Hanover.

General Gordon led him to his own office, which was well-appointed for all that it was a fifth the size of the capacious room where William Windham carried out his business.

Harrington declined the general’s offer of tea, hoping he could keep this quick. “What did you wish to see me about, sir?”

The general folded his hands in front of him on his desk.

“As I’m sure you have heard, there has been a recent surge of interest in light infantry troops, thanks in large part to the efforts of the 95 th Rifles during the retreat to Cuxhaven.

The army has decided we need more of you.

We’d like to start by adding a battalion of skirmishers to the King’s German Legion.

They’ll need training.” He leaned forward.

“And the army has decided that you’re the man to do it. ”

Harrington replied, “Yes, sir.” Because really, there was nothing else he could say. That was the nature of the army—you received an order, and you followed it.

Although in truth, this didn’t sound all that bad.

He’d heard whisperings that the 95 th Rifles would soon be bound for Argentina, of all places.

Harrington couldn’t imagine what good they would do halfway across the world.

Surely, Napoleon was giving Britain enough trouble to deal with in this hemisphere.

But training troops was something he thought he would be good at.

Regular infantry soldiers carried muskets, which were so inaccurate that there was little need to aim beyond pointing them in the general direction of the enemy.

The idea was that if an entire line of men fired in unison, a few bullets were bound to find a target.

But light infantry troops, or skirmishers, as they were often called, carried Baker rifles.

They did not partake in the traditional tactics of forming lines and squares.

The job of skirmishers was to fan out in front of an advancing line, taking cover where they could find it behind walls or trees, and to demoralize the enemy by picking off his troops one by one.

A skirmisher had to be a good shot, and that was where Harrington could help them.

It occurred to him that training troops would take place on domestic soil. It was as safe a mission as he was likely to get. And that meant Diana could come with him!

She had made noises about heading out that afternoon to start looking at townhouses. He should send her a note. It seemed they wouldn’t be renting in London after all, but in…

“Where will the training take place, sir?” Harrington asked.

“Ireland. Bandon, to be specific. It’s a little town in County Cork.”

“Bandon. Very good.” A quiet Irish town was quite the departure from the busy whirl of London. He wondered if Diana would be willing to make the change. “When do I depart?”

Gordon laughed. “That’s why I’m so glad I ran into you on the stairs. I’d heard Windham had sent you on some errand or the other. I was worried you wouldn’t make it back in time, but here you are.”

Harrington tilted his head. “Will I be leaving soon, then?”

“At high tide.” The general stood. “Go and pack your trunk, Lieutenant. You’ll be sailing for Ireland tonight.”