old man was dead and yet little of Dammartin’s anger had dissipated. His father had been avenged, and still Dammartin’s heart ached with a ferocity that coloured his every waking thought. All of the hurt, all of the rage at the injustice and loss remained. He knew he had been severe with girl. She was young, and it was not her hand that had fired the bullet into his father’s chest. He had seen that she was frightened and the pallor of her face as she realised her mistake over Ciudad Rodrigo, and even then he had not softened. Now that he was away from her he could see that he had been too harsh, but the girl knew much more than she was saying, and if Dummartin was being forced to drag her with him all the way to Ciudad Rodrigo, he was damn well going to get that information—for the sake of his country, for the sake of his mission…for the sake of his father.
The dragoon camp was filled with the aroma of cooking—of boiling meat and toasting bread. Dammartin’s stomach began to growl as he strode past the troopers’ campfires, his eyes taking in all that was happening in one fell swoop. Lamont had a pot lid in one hand and was stirring at the watery meat with a spoon in the other. Molyneux was sharing a joke with a group of troopers. The prickle of anticipation whispered down Dammartin’s spine, for Josephine Mallington was nowhere to be seen.
‘Where is Mademoiselle Mallington?’ The stoniness of his voice silenced Molyneux’s laughter. Lamont replaced the pot lid and spoon and got to his feet. The troopers glanced around uneasily, noticing the girl’s absence for the first time.
A slight flush coloured Molyneux’s cheeks. ‘She was here but a moment since, I swear.’
‘Check the tents,’ Dammartin snapped at his lieutenant, before turning to Lamont. ‘Have the men search over by the latrines.’
With a nod, the little sergeant was up and shouting orders as he ran.
Dammartin knew instinctively that the girl would not be found in either of these places. He strode purposefully towards the horses. None were missing.
Dante was saddled by the time that Molyneux reappeared.
‘The tents are empty, Captain, and Lamont says that there’s no sign of her down by the latrines.’ He bent to catch his breath, tilting his head up to look at Dammartin. ‘Do you want us to organise a search party?’
‘No search party,’ replied Dammartin, swinging himself up on to Dante’s back. ‘I go alone.’
‘She cannot have got far in such little time. She is on foot and the harshness of this countryside…’ Molyneux let the words trail off before dropping his voice. ‘Forgive me, but I did not think for a minute that she would escape.’
Dammartin gave a single small nod of his head, acknowledging his lieutenant’s apology. ‘Mademoiselle Mallington is more resourceful than we have given her credit for.’
‘What will happen if you do not find her? Major La Roque did not—’
‘If I do not find her,’ Dammartin interrupted, ‘she will die.’ And with a soft dig of his heels against Dante’s flank he was gone.
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