The Improper Wife Read Online Free PDF Page B

sip of his brandy.
    He’d certainly made a mull of things all the same.
    After the heady victory at Vitoria, he’d been primed for celebration. His friend Lansing assured him he’d found two fresh Spanish girls eager to entertain the two English officers. They’d all spent a rollicking night together, the Madeira flowing in abundance.
    Gray had been too full of drink to precisely recall bedding Rosa, but Lansing assured him he’d had a splendid night. When Gray returned from his leave in Gloucestershire three months later, Rosa identified him as the man who sired the baby she carried in her womb. Her father insisted Gray do the honorable thing by her.
    So he had married her. What else could he have done? He’d strictly forbidden her to accompany him on the campaign, but she followed him to Orthes. Perhaps she feared he would desert her, as Lansing deserted her cousin by returning to England.
    Gray would be damned if he’d allow himself to be embroiled in another female’s troubles, especially when those troubles were not of his making. He delivered her baby and paid her charges at the inn. Her belongings were bound for Curzon Street. It was enough.
    Gray drained his glass and placed the cork back in the bottle. He threw some coins on the table and stuck the bottle into his pocket.
    No bloody way he would call on his cousin. Let good-hearted Harry solve the woman’s problems. Gray washed his hands of her.

Chapter
THREE
    T hree days later Gray stepped up to the door of the comfortably elegant townhouse on Curzon Street. He wore his new regimentals, the blue coat more presentable than the worn uniform that earned the 13th the nickname Ragged Brigade.
    He’d found a man to cut his hair and he’d shaved his cheeks smooth, using the same razor that cut the baby’s cord, but Gray disliked thinking of that.
    Why the devil was he standing upon this doorstep at all? The sky was almost blue this fine May afternoon. He could be walking through Hyde Park, pretending to be in the country.
    More likely he’d be searching for some dark room in which to gamble or drink. Perhaps it was just as well he was doing precisely what his cousin wished. Gray sighed. He disliked following family dictates on a manner of principle. God knew he’d defied plenty of them.
    No, his reasons for making this call were selfish, no other way about it. The past two nights had brought nightmares, more horrific than he’d experienced before. The repeat of Rosa’s death was no surprise, but this time Maggie Smith and her child took Rosa’s place, over and over, a kaleidoscope of destruction. Brandy no longer guaranteed oblivion. The images returned whenever he closed his eyes.
    Gray drew the line at witnessing babies blown to smithereens, even in a dream, so he entered into a bargain with God. If God would stop the nightmares, Gray would atone for his sins.
    God invited him to go first.
    Gray sounded the gleaming brass knocker. The door was promptly answered by a footman who bowed as he entered. The butler appeared in the foyer.
    “Is the baron in?” Gray asked, handing the footman his shako and gloves.
    “Lord Caufield is not at home, sir,” the butler answered, eyeing him with one brow slightly raised.
    It was testimony to Gray’s rare appearance in the house that the servants did not know him. “Lady Caufield, then.” He handed the man his card.
    The butler glanced at it and apparently recognized his connection. “If the captain would be so good as to wait in the parlor.”
    Gray followed the man above stairs to a sun-filled room with glass doors opening onto a stone balcony. A breeze stirred the curtains and sent cool air through the room and into the hallway. Gray wandered onto the balcony and gazed out. Even the tiniest London garden gave pleasure in the spring.
    He would leave England within the week. Perhaps in these next few days, he’d catch his last glimpse of the country’s verdant beauty. Country hills awash with wildflowers.