she struggled to collect herself, her mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings. She was intensely relieved that her problem was solved—assuming Major Lancaster didn’t die in the night—yet she half wished she’d never set foot in the York Hospital. Though neither man had shown disgust at her impulsive suggestion, she felt like a carrion crow feasting on the almost dead.
Well, she and the major had made a bargain, and it was too late to withdraw now. There was comfort in the knowledge that he’d seemed pleased to accept her proposition. Yet when she thought of the major’s courage, his amused green eyes, she could have wept for the waste. How many other men and boys had died as a result of Napoleon’s ambition, or been crippled like Richard Dalton and Rhys Morgan?
It didn’t bear thinking of, so Jocelyn stood and carefully donned her gracious-lady facade. By the time she reached Rhys Morgan’s ward, she appeared composed again, though misery still knotted in her midriff.
Hearing an anguished, Welsh-accented voice, she paused in the door of the ward, just out of sight of the Morgans. “Who would ever want a cripple like me?” Rhys said harshly, “I can’t fight, can’t go down in the mines, would only be half a man working on the farm. I wish the damned cannon had blown my head off rather than my leg!”
Hugh’s softer voice started making soothing noises, too low for Jocelyn to hear the words. She squared her shoulders before entering the ward. Here was something she could do for a man who would be around long enough to benefit.
When she approached the bed, both brothers turned to face her. Rhys’s face was tense, while Hugh’s showed the guilt and misery of a whole man in the presence of one who was maimed.
As Hugh stood, Jocelyn said to Rhys, “Corporal Morgan, I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course, my lady,” he said woodenly.
“I know it would be very dull after all you’ve done and seen, but would you consider coming to work for me? My aunt will be leaving soon to set up a separate household, and she’ll be taking several of the servants, including one of the two men who work in the stables. As a cavalry man, surely you are experienced with horses. Would you be interested in the position?”
The corporal’s face reflected shock, and dawning hope. “I should like to be a groom.” His gaze went to his missing leg. “But I … I don’t know if I can manage the work to your ladyship’s standards.”
Deliberately she looked to the flat place on the bed where there should have been a strong, healthy limb. “I see no reason to doubt your competence, Corporal.” Wanting to lighten the mood, she said mischievously, “Please say yes, if only for your brother’s sake. He is positively menaced by housemaids trying to capture his attention. Having another handsome young man in the household will make his life easier.”
Hugh blurted out, “My lady!” his face turning scarlet.
At the sight of his brother’s embarrassment, Rhys leaned back on the pillows and laughed with the air of a man rediscovering humor. “I shall be most honored to work for you, Lady Jocelyn.”
“Excellent.” Another thought struck her. “Why not ask the doctors if you can be moved to my house for recuperation? It’s a much more pleasant place than this, and your brother will be glad to have you near.”
“Oh, my lady!” Hugh exclaimed, his face lighting up.
“I … I should like that very much, Lady Jocelyn.” Rhys blinked a suspicious brightness from his eyes at the prospect of leaving the hospital.
“Then we shall expect you as soon as you are released.” As she withdrew so that Hugh could have a private farewell with his brother, she thought of David Lancaster, who was so frail that any attempt to move him would probably cause his death. Rhys Morgan was robust by comparison. With a comfortable place to live and a good job waiting, he would adjust to his loss fairly soon. And she would get a fine groom in the process.
A few minutes later the footman joined her, and they left the building. Jocelyn inhaled the warm summer air with relief. Even with the smells of the city, it was blessedly fresh after the hospital.
Behind her, Hugh said hesitantly, “Lady Jocelyn?”
She glanced back at him. “Yes, Morgan?”
“My lady, I will never forget what you have just done,” he said gravely. “If there is ever anything I can do to repay you, anything at all …”
“It was easily done, and I’m sure your brother will be a worthy addition to the house,” she said, shrugging off his gratitude.
“It may have been easy, but few would have done it. ’Tis said in the servants’ hall that there isn’t a lady in London with a warmer heart than yours.”
She inclined her head briefly in acknowledgment, then turned to scan the street. “Do you see where my carriage is waiting?”
Carriages were easier than compliments.
Before returning to Upper Brook Street, Jocelyn paid a visit to her lawyer and man of business, John Crandall. In the years since her father’s death, the lawyer had become accustomed to dealing directly with a lady, but today her requests raised his experienced eyebrows.
“You’re going to marry a dying officer?” he repeated incredulously. “It will fulfill the terms of the will, but your father’s hope was that you’d find a husband to keep you in line. This Major Lancaster can scarcely do that.”
Jocelyn did her best to look soulful. “Why do you think I have not married elsewhere? The attachment between David and me is … is of some duration.”
It wasn’t quite a lie. An hour qualified as “a duration.” “He was in Spain when I visited my aunt and her husband. But the war, you know …” Also not a lie, though certainly intended to be misleading. “I have never known a braver or more honorable gentleman.” That, at least, was the truth.
Mollified, Crandall promised to procure the special license, arrange for a clergyman, and have the settlement and quitclaim documents ready in the morning. On the ride home, Jocelyn pondered whether to tell Lady Laura about her wedding, but decided against it. Her aunt had said in as many words that she didn’t want to know about Jocelyn’s marital schemes. Far better to explain after the deed was done, she thought wryly. She’d learned early that it was easier to get forgiveness than permission.
Jocelyn awoke the next morning with a bizarre sense of unreality. Today is my wedding day. Not that this was a real marriage, of course. Yet that knowledge could not mask the reality that today she would take the step that for most girls was the most momentous of a lifetime, and she was doing it almost at random.
On impulse, she decided to add something special to the tragic little ceremony that would take place later that morning. When Marie appeared with her chocolate and rolls, she sent the girl down to the kitchen with orders to pack a basket with champagne and glasses, and to gather a bouquet of flowers in the garden.
She chose her costume with special care, selecting a cream-colored morning gown with pleats and subtle cream-on-cream embroidery around the neckline and hem. Marie dressed her chestnut hair rather severely, pulling it back into a twist with only the most delicate of curls near her face. Seeing that her mistress looked pale, Marie deftly added a bit of color with the hare’s foot.
Even so, Jocelyn thought when she
