Lord Somerton's Heir Read Free

roadway, the uniform of Colonel Aradeiras barely visible beneath the film of dust. This man had almost escaped but they had caught him, a French sabre nearly decapitating his head in one clean slice.
    Dempster was once more by his side but Sebastian barely registered his presence.
    ‘Go back, Captain Alder,’ his senior officer ordered.
    Numbly, Sebastian shook his head. He now knew what lay around the bend in the road, why the carrion birds circled above their heads.
    Her father had sent a message to say she had left Lisbon with an armed party of his own handpicked men as escort. In his lodgings his landlady had prepared his bedchamber with flowers and clean linen, excited at the prospect of the senhora ’s arrival.
    The wedding and their few precious days together had been a lifetime ago. To the man, Colonel Aradeiras’ escort lay dead in the dusty road around the broken carriage, no match for the rifles and sabres of the French raiding party.
    The coach lay on its side, the horses dead in the traces. His heart skipped a beat and the breath stopped in his throat. Where were the women? Where were Inez and her maid, the elderly and patient Maria?
    Sebastian flung himself off his horse, running blindly towards the broken coach. Beyond it he stopped on the side of the road, looking down an incline into a grove of olive trees at the terrible sight the French had left for him.
    Neither woman had been spared, even Maria who must have been touching seventy. They lay sprawled on their backs, their clothing rent from their bodies, the blood…the blood. Sebastian started down the incline, only to find himself pulled back. He fought the restraining hands of Harry and Sergeant Pike.
    ‘She’s dead, Alder. There’s nothing you can do for her,’ Harry was saying.
    But the blood roared in Sebastian’s ears and he could see only a red haze before his eyes. Inez, he had to get to Inez. He had promised to protect her with the last breath in his body but he had failed her, failed her in the worst possible way a man — a husband — could. He had not been there when the French had attacked. He had not fought off the ravaging wolves that had used his wife’s body for their own pleasure before bayoneting her. An animal howl of pure despair tore from his throat and he went down on his knees, still in Pike’s grip.
    The world faded and turned black and he was falling, falling, falling into that black morass of despair from which he knew he would never recover.
    ***
    Isabel awoke with a start at the sound of crashing china. She rose from her bed, lit the night candle and, pulling a loose robe over her nightdress, stepped out into the corridor. She came across Bennet at the head of the stairs, cleaning up a broken bowl that had, from the liquid that now spilled across the dark, polished wood, contained water.
    He looked up at her, dark, sunken circles under his eyes. Even though she had employed a nurse, the man had borne the brunt of the nursing and had not left his captain’s side for the last three days.
    She put her hand on his shoulder.
    ‘Enough, Bennet. Finish cleaning up the mess and then go and get some sleep. You’re exhausted. I’ll wake the nurse.’
    Bennet rose to his feet. ‘She’s useless, beggin’ your pardon, me lady, and the Cap’n can’t be left alone. The fever’s got a right hold of him.’
    ‘Then I’ll sit with him a little while and if I need help I will wake you both.’
    Exhaustion turned to horror. ‘Oh no, my lady, that would hardly be proper.’
    ‘Pish to propriety. No one need know except you and me. You’ve done a sterling job but you are no good to anyone let alone your captain in your current state.’
    When Bennet continued to look doubtful, she drew herself up and said in a firm tone, ‘I insist. Good night, Bennet.’
    She turned on her heel and walked into the room that had been her husband’s bedchamber. She paused, taking a moment to accustom herself not only to the odour of the