Hero in the Highlands Read Free Page B

pulled at Gabriel’s face. “Beg pardon? I know you ordered me to the command hill, General, but I have never sought personal glory from the blood of my men. That—”
    â€œA great many officers serve under me, Major Forrester,” Wellington cut in. “Do you imagine that the loss of one from my side—even a competent, capable one—would cause me to surrender?”
    â€œOf course not.” And there was the boot he’d been expecting.
    â€œIt irritated me when you galloped off. Not because I required your counsel, but because I know you ride pell-mell into battle, and I had reason to wish you kept from harm.” He reached into one of the pockets of his blue coat and produced a much folded letter, which he set down and slid across the table. “This arrived by special messenger before dawn. A second note is inside, addressed to you.”
    Frowning, Gabriel leaned forward and picked up the thick note. “I don’t—”
    Wellington took a breath. “I have written letters to lords, informing them that their precious thirdborn sons—not as precious as their firstborn sons, of course—have been killed in battle. This one”—and he gestured at the missive—“is out of even my experience. I invited you here tonight because it seems the sort of news one should hear from a sympathetic soul rather than read on one’s own in the middle of a foreign country and a damned war.”
    â€œI … Are you certain this is meant for me? My parents are long dead, and I have but one sibling. A younger sister, living in London.” His heart thudded. “Has something happened to Marjorie?”
    â€œNo.” Wellington tilted his head. “You have no cousins, either, I presume.”
    â€œNo. What—”
    â€œYou do have an uncle. A second uncle, rather. Or is it third? I can never keep the distant ones numbered correctly.”
    Gabriel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I remember my mother talking about a great-uncle she detested, and I know there was bad blood in the family…” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t take up your time with my boyhood recollections, sir. This has something to do with the—my—second or third uncle, I presume? If he’s died and left me some debt, I would appreciate if you simply told me. Any creditors will find it difficult to squeeze blood from this turnip.”
    â€œHe has died, but he has not left you any debt. Rather, you have something of an inheritance coming to you.”
    For a moment the look in Wellington’s steely blue eyes was almost sympathetic, and Gabriel’s gut tightened. Whatever could make a battle-hardened general feel pity couldn’t be good. He wanted to look at the missive, but Wellington had made it clear that he wanted to deliver the news, himself. Since he’d already disobeyed his general once today, doing so again seemed ill-advised. “My lord,” he finally said, when the earl seemed content to allow the moment to draw out to the horizon, “first the offer of dinner and now this … reluctance of yours to deliver me the information you possess is rather alarming.”
    â€œYes, I would imagine it is.” Wellington paused. “You’ve proven yourself a damned fine, ferocious officer, Gabriel Forrester, and not just by your actions today. I—and the British army—shall miss your service.” Finally he sat forward and tapped the paper Gabriel held clenched in one hand. “Your distant uncle was the Duke of Lattimer, owner of several small estates in England and one exceedingly large one in Scotland. They, and the title, are now yours, Your Grace.”

 
    Chapter One
    â€œFor God’s sake!” Gabriel exploded, momentarily mollified at seeing the quartet of wig-wearing fellows seated across from him jump. “Stop talking!”
    â€œBut Your Grace, this is all