Innocence in Regency Society: The Mysterious Miss M / Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress. Diane Gaston

for freedom.

      Until Waterloo, soldiering had been his freedom. Living by his own wits with men who understood what was essential in life. Making the most of each day. Grateful for food, shelter, the occasional warmth of a willing woman. Laughing and drinking and sleeping under the stars. Surging with excitement, raging against the enemy. Testing skill, courage and luck. He would trade everything to go back to those days in Spain.

      What blithering nonsense. Those days had vanished with Waterloo.

      A heavy fatigue overtook him, but he proceeded to shave and dress. He would put the best face he could on this day, for Madeleine’s sake.

      Below stairs, he walked past the dining room and smiled. Their little household rarely supped at the table there, except for the last meal of the day. He liked the informality of the kitchen where they gathered as equals in this venture to survive.

      That would vanish, too, with his decision. When his money flowed again, he would be master.

      As he neared the kitchen door he heard Madeleine’s voice.

      ‘Sit, Sophie. Please do. I will tend to the meal.’

      Sophie’s inevitable protest dissolved into a fit of coughing.

      Madeleine looked up as he entered. Linette clambered over the chairs to get to him.

      ‘Deddy!’ The little girl jumped into Devlin’s arms.

      ‘Devlin,’ Madeleine said, ‘please tell Sophie to sit and allow me to do the work. She is ill.’

      ‘I am not ill.’ The little maid, sallow-faced with dark circles under her eyes, choked on her words and turned her head to cough some more.

      Devlin opened his mouth, but had no chance to speak.

      ‘I cannot see how she fooled Bart. He never would have gone out had he known.’ Madeleine fussed at putting bowls on the table.

      ‘Deddy play?’ Linette batted her long lashes at Devlin.

      Madeleine whirled to the child. ‘No, Linette, sit here and eat.’ She swept over and took the child from Devlin’s arms.

      She put Linette back in her chair, raised high by a wooden box upon which Linette now stood, not sat. Madeleine continued, ‘Dev, please do something. Sophie will not listen to me.’

      As if to prove Madeleine’s words, Sophie pushed her hands on the table to raise herself. Devlin pressed his fingers to his brow.

      ‘All of you, sit!’ he commanded.

      The three sat, like obedient soldiers.

      He glared from one to the other. ‘Linette, do as your mother says. Eat. Maddy, stop fussing. If you wish to ready the meal then bloody do it.’ He softened his voice for Sophie. ‘Little one, do not exert yourself. It is foolishness when Maddy is capable of a simple breakfast.’

      Sophie did as she was told, coughing softly, eyes downcast.

      Madeleine rose to pour a cup of tea for Sophie and Devlin. ‘You need not have snapped at me.’

      He glanced at her, regretting his burst of temper, but her eyes held the hint of a smile and a softer expression that spoke of what had passed between them the previous night.

      ‘I apologise.’ His eyes held hers for that moment. He hoped she knew he was sorry for more than a fit of temper.

      Between coughs, Sophie said, ‘I need to tend to my sewing.’

      Madeleine started to protest, but Devlin shot her a glance to keep quiet. She spooned him a bowl of porridge.

      ‘You need sew no longer, little one. We have had a change in fortune. In fact, I intend to return your earnings to you.’

      Sophie’s eyes grew wide. ‘We have money?’

      ‘We will by this afternoon, I expect. I will call on my brother again. He will give me the money this time.’ He cautiously took a spoonful of the lumpy porridge. Perhaps by the morrow they would be feasting on boiled eggs and ham.

      ‘You see, I will do as my brother wishes and he will advance me the money.’ Devlin would leave further explanation of their change in fortune to Madeleine, not knowing how to tell Sophie about his need to marry.

      ‘May…may I continue with the sewing?’ Sophie asked, her eyes darting warily.

      He leaned to her and placed his hand on her arm. ‘You may do whatever you wish. I do shout and bluster, but you are a free woman, Sophie. Not mine to command.’

      Madeleine stood behind him with the pot of tea. She brushed against him as she poured.

      ‘Where the devil is Bart?’

      ‘Gone to find work,’ Madeleine said.

      ‘Deuce, you did not stop him?’

      ‘He left before I came down.’

      Bart would be out searching for some sort of back-breaking labour, or something so dangerous, only a few of the out-of-work war veterans would compete for the job.

      ‘He went to a lead factory in Islington,’ Sophie said, before a cough stopped her.

      ‘When?’

      She held her throat, as if that would hold back another coughing spell. ‘An hour or more, I think.’

      He could hire a hack and catch up to him. Devlin took a quick sip of his tea and rushed off to warn his sergeant not to risk his neck another time for Devlin’s sake.

      He found Bart at the factory door where he and others hung about, hoping to be chosen for a job. The factory billowed black smoke and flecks of black ash covered the pavement and buildings. How could anyone abide such dismal surroundings?

      ‘Come on, Bart. Let us get you out of this damned place.’ He gestured his friend over to the hack.

      Bart did not leave his place in the ragged line that had formed. ‘It is honest work, Dev, and pays well.’

      ‘You no longer need to break your back. Our fortunes have changed.’

      Bart stared at him, hands on his waist. After a moment he abandoned the line and walked over to the hack.

      Devlin explained the whole business as they rode back. Bart responded with a grim expression. ‘It is right enough, Dev, but I do not like it all the same.’ He shot Devlin a suspicious glance. ‘Are you certain you have thought this through?’

      Devlin nodded, frowning. ‘This is not one of my impulsive acts. I have sat up half the night figuring this. We are mere days from having no blunt at all. What else can we do?’

      The two men stared at the buildings passing by, the only sounds the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones and the shouts of vendors selling their wares.

      ‘When the time comes,’ Devlin said at last, ‘I want you to stay with Madeleine.’ He did not have to explain what he meant.

      ‘We have not been apart since Spain. I’ll not desert you now.’ Bart’s thick brows knitted together in one straight line.

      Devlin regarded his friend with a wan smile. ‘Sophie will not wish to leave Madeleine, I expect, and I doubt you will wish to leave Sophie. Am I correct?’

      Bart did not answer, but neither did his craggy brows move from their stern expression.

      ‘I can only do this if I know they remain safe.’ Devlin’s voice became low and insistent. ‘I must depend on you to look out for them. I will not be able to see to it myself.’

      Bart stared at him as the hack neared St James’s Street. ‘I will do as you say.’

      That afternoon, Madeleine was alone in the house. Linette napped. Sophie, who had insisted herself fully recovered, went to return her sewing to Madame Emeraude and get another batch. Bart accompanied her, so she need