Free The Soldier by Grace Burrowes Page B

not particularly.” He was certain of this much. “If I wanted to be of sufficient consequence to be stationed more or less in my brother’s vicinity, then I needed a commission.”
    “And that’s why you went, isn’t it?” Miss Farnum’s smile was sad as a little grumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. “You didn’t go out of a burning desire to defeat the Corsican, you went to protect your brother, and you were successful in protecting him from every hazard save himself.”
    “Just so, Miss Farnum.” He glanced at the sky then bowed slightly. Unease was sweeping up from his innards, though whether it was due to the approaching storm or the lady’s keen insight, he could not say. “If you will excuse me, Lord Amery will be wondering at my whereabouts. My thanks for your company, and I will expect to see you tomorrow at some point.”
    ***
     
    “I want to write to Rose.” Winnie announced her intention as she bounced into the library near midnight, pleased to find the earl was up, too, and sitting at the desk in his shirtsleeves.
    “Good evening, Miss Winnie.” St. Just took off a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and eyed her balefully. “Has no one told you to knock?”
    “It’s late,” Winnie pointed out, her nightdress flapping in the breeze coming in through the window. “The house is dark, and I did not think anybody was in here.”
    “So you’ve come to find writing implements?” He frowned, glancing at the clock.
    “I was going to go see the horses first. The front door creaks, and the kitchen door is usually locked, but if I leave these doors unlocked, I can get back in.”
    “Your talent for reconnaissance is impressive. Well, come here.”
    “Am I to get a lecture?” Winnie cautiously approached the big desk, only to find herself scooped up and deposited in the earl’s lap.
    “I am supposed to write to Rose, too,” he said, “but I didn’t know what to say. Have you any suggestions?”
    Winnie settled on his knees, deciding she liked this perspective. In all her varied life, she’d never sat in the lap of an adult male whom she actually liked, and she rather thought there were things to recommend about it. She felt safe, for one thing. Safe and protected, and better, she felt powerful, just like when she was up on old Roddy’s back. The earl smelled good, for another, like meadows and flowers and security. And he was warm and comfortable, at least compared to a tree limb.
    “So what would you like to write?” he prompted, setting paper, pen, and ink before her. He reached his long arms around her to do this, and Winnie noticed he’d turned his sleeves back, leaving his forearms revealed for her inspection.
    “Your arms are hairy. We should write, Dear Rose.”
    “Is this your letter or mine?” the earl asked, glancing at his forearms.
    “Mine. Dear Rose. My name is Winnie, and I live at Rosecroft. Your papa is visiting, but I would like to borrow him while he is here.”
    “Slow down,” the earl growled, setting pen to paper. “You want to borrow Douglas?”
    “Your papa is nice,” Winnie went on. “I would give him back when he leaves. I did not ask him, because he is your papa. I do not have a pony, but if I did, I would let you make him a knight. Sincerely, Bronwyn Farnum.”
    The earl finished writing, sanded the page, and sat back to arrange Winnie crosswise on his lap, which let her see his face.
    “You are jealous of my niece?” he asked, frowning.
    “She has a papa, a mama, and an uncle. I have Miss Emmie, who is my friend, but that’s all. I like Lord Amery because he listens and climbs trees, but I only want to borrow him.”
    “You want to borrow him for what?” the earl pressed, shifting her again but keeping an arm around her as he did.
    “To be my papa,” Winnie said, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. “He is not Rose’s real papa, so I thought she might not mind if he wasn’t mine either.”
    “I see.” The earl’s