The Rake's Redemption Read Free

might approach the fitness of a small child.
    “A question neatly evaded. I take it you want to return to the war?”
    “Yes, I do. Till the business is finished.” And so he could fulfil the promise to his father to look after Charles.
    “How will you do that, Thomas?” Sir Edmund was leading up to something.
    “If Colonel McKenzie will not have me back and the Peer will not have me on his staff, I will exchange into another regiment.” It would mean leaving the men he’d fought beside for four years, but better than sitting idle in England while they died in Spain.
    “You could do that, Thomas. There is another way. If you can persuade and train enough of the Loyal Volunteers, you can take them to Spain as the second battalion of your regiment. McKenzie could do nothing about it. What do you say to that?”
    “I’d be pleased at the chance, sir.” In truth Thomas was delighted. His own battalion meant promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. Sir Edmund’s game made sense: leave Horsley to pay for the militia till they were ready for Spain, then use the bounty of ten guineas a head for joining the regular army to persuade the men to volunteer. “Would the Peer object to me, sir?”
    “Not so much as he’d welcome your troops. He disapproves of your behaviour, not your competence, Thomas. In four years you’ve cut a swathe through the French and he heartily approves of that. He does not approve that you’ve also cut a swathe through the ladies of the Peninsula, and shot any of their husbands who objected. Not exactly a testimony to your diplomatic skills, is it?”
    “No, sir.” No point in objecting to a fair assessment.
    “You’ll need to be clever about how you handle Horsley. No more duels, Thomas. That would finish you. And I want the battalion shipped by March in time for the campaign season. Mather has your orders, and a copy of Horsley’s. Report back to me in four weeks, Thomas. Promise me the trained men by then, and we’ll finalise the business.”
    “Sir.” Thomas could feel excitement surging through his weakened veins. He wasn’t going to be bored for the foreseeable future.
    By some mysterious telepathy Lieutenant Mather opened the door at that exact moment, to lead Thomas back through corridors festooned with paintings marking centuries of military history.
    “The capture of Philadelphia.” His guide had noticed his interest in one massive canvas.
    “Thank you, my father served with Howe.” And might himself have walked down this corridor as Viscount Alsbury before he sailed for the American Revolutionary War. Had he been better tempered then, before his disappointments began?
    “Your orders, sir.” Mather was proffering a bulky package. “The East Mercian Volunteers are based at Farnfield, on the Northamptonshire county border
    That he hadn’t expected. Farnfield. Not ten miles from Oakenhill. Since he’d come to his senses in his old room at Jermyn Street the thoughts of Judith Hampton had been more insistent. In his enforced idleness it took all the discipline he’d built up over four years not to let himself dwell on her, but there really was no reason to waste energy on foolish wonderings.
    “I know Farnfield. Thank you, Lieutenant.” Thomas returned the man’s crisp salute and went out into the dour November day. The voice of caution was whispering that this was a remarkable coincidence, but Thomas felt light enough in his mind not to care or wonder about what fluke had brought about this circumstance.
    Despite the panache with which he left Horseguards it was an exhausted and irritable Major Thomas Stainford who reached Jermyn Street twenty five minutes later. Graham Wright materialised even before his master had finished bellowing for him, but still earned himself a reprimand. “Time you left the maids alone, man, and attended to your duties.”
    “Yes, milord. Which duties would you have me attend to?” He watched with tolerant amusement as his master’s shako