Free With This Ring by Carla Kelly Page A

every flower in
Europe, Asia, and South America. The thought made her smile, where
yesterday she would have trembled in fear.
    Major Reed was asleep, so she
tiptoed to his campaign trunk and replaced his much-used razor. The
cologne was gone; perhaps he had another bottle. She looked inside
the trunk, moving aside the letters, but could not find
one.
    Curious, she picked up a letter. I
am such a snoop, she thought as she looked at the direction on one
envelope. “Lord and Lady Laren, Major Sam Reed, Third Division,
Battery B,” she read to herself. This is odd, indeed, she
reflected. Corporal Davies tells me yesterday that the major is not
married, and yet here is a letter to the happy couple. How
singular. One would not think him to be so absentminded as to
forget a wife.
    The thought made her smile. She
looked at the major, who lay on his side, breathing steadily. He’s
not a handsome man, but he should show to better advantage with a
haircut, she decided. She went closer. The afternoon sun was almost
gone now, and the lady chapel was chilly again. She raised the
blanket higher to cover his shoulders.
    He opened his eyes, then yawned.
“Well, are you a proficient barber by now, madam?” he asked, his
voice thick with sleep.
    “ I am, sir, thanks to you. If I find
myself a burden to my parents, I shall strike out on my own and
open an emporium.”
    He laughed and closed his eyes
again. “You’ll return tomorrow?” he asked.
    “ With scissors and comb,” she
assured him. “I already fancy myself good at cutting Kitty’s hair,
so you have merely to tell me how to arrange your ringlets, and
whether that mass at the back of your neck would look better in a
chignon or a top knot.”
    He opened his eyes in sudden alarm,
then laughed. “You’ll cut it army-straight, Miss Perkins! I’ll send
Corporal Davies in a carriage with you now. Lord knows, he’s not as
colorful as General Picton ….” His voice trailed off, and he
was asleep again.
    And that is precisely what you need,
she thought as she took her leave with Corporal Davies. Some of
Cook’s good beef tea would be just the thing, Lydia considered as
she sank with relief into the hackney, too tired to remove her
stained apron. I wonder if I can wheedle her out of a gallon or
two?
    Lydia woke up when the hackney
stopped in front of the house on Holly Street, and discovered that
she had been leaning against Corporal Davies. “Do excuse my
ramshackle manners!” she said. She reached up to straighten her
bonnet, and realized to her dismay that she had left it behind on
the altar in the lady chapel. “I cannot imagine what you must think
of me,” she said as the jehu opened the door to the
hackney.
    “ I think you have made me the envy
of Battery B, Miss Perkins,” the corporal replied as he helped her
down. “Do you know, for five quid, Corporal Jenkins offered to take
my place!”
    She gasped. “That is a lot of
money!”
    “ Wasn’t enough, though, was it?” he
said with a smile. “I’ll be by in the morning, Miss Perkins,
provided that Jenkins doesn’t mill me down and black my only
eye.”
    Oh, heavens, she thought as she
knocked on the door. Soldiers are certainly a breed apart. She
looked back at the hackney, which was turning the corner. “I only
hope I did not snore,” she murmured.
    Stanton let her into the house, a
finger to his lips. “Miss Kitty is prostrated with anxiety because
the flounce is not repaired on the dress she is wearing tonight to
Almack’s, and Lady Luisa is with her,” he said.
    “ Oh, the flounce!” she exclaimed. “I
was supposed to mend that this morning, wasn’t I?” And now Kitty is
in agonies, seeing her life slip away at eighteen, all because of a
simple flounce that she could repair herself, Lydia thought. Of
course, this is not to mention the other ball dresses she could
wear instead. Lydia shook her head and went quietly up the
stairs.
    The dress was still draped across
her bed, where she had left it