Page 4 of Make My Wish Come True
“True.” He shifted, turning a little more toward her. “But it’s what the men in my family do. All the second sons, at any rate. We go to war.”
A second son. Not the heir, the important child, but a lesser one. Gwen nodded, knowing what that felt like. Daughters were even less important than second sons. “Does the army suit you?”
The captain looked at her sharply, then his expression eased. “It does—or, did. I wanted to join the army from the time I was a boy, like my father. He was a captain of dragoons, and I never saw a finer officer. It was the only thing I ever wanted, to follow in his footsteps…”
Gwen guessed from his expression what had happened. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
He looked away. “Thank you.” A pause. “At Bergen, in the Low Countries. They wrote to my grandfather that it was a French bullet that cut him down. From that moment on, I was set on fighting the French.” He smiled wryly. “Who knew we would still be fighting the French, all these years later?”
“Who indeed,” Gwen murmured. “Forgive me if this is too bold, but… It must be awful, to be so far away and know you might never make it home, and that your whole purpose for being there is to kill other men just like you, who must also long to go home to their families.”
His face grew hard. “If those Frenchmen didn’t wish to be torn from their families and sent to kill other men, they ought to have stayed at home to begin with and not followed blasted Buonaparte on his campaign of destruction throughout Europe. The Spaniards and Portuguese did not ask to be invaded, their countries looted and pillaged, their citizens savaged and killed.” He caught sight of her wide eyes and cleared his throat. “I don’t pretend the British army is pure and noble, but in this, we are the lesser evil.”
Gwen didn’t know what to say. Wordlessly she touched his gloved hand, and to her surprise he caught her hand and gripped it, hard, for just a moment before letting go. She’d meant to apologize for bringing up such thoughts, and instead felt as though he had responded with gratitude, as if it gave him comfort.
“Apologies,” he muttered, before taking a deep breath and continuing in an easier tone. “Yes, war is dreadful in most ways. The army cares nothing for one’s personal comfort, and often contrives the longest marches through the worst weather. One week you’ll be soaking wet, with biblical downpours and swollen rivers to cross, and you’d swear you would never be completely dry again. Then the next week would be blazing hot, and you would long for even a trickling stream to dampen your handkerchief. There’s rarely enough to eat—let alone anything as delicious as at home—never a comfortable place to sleep, and precious little in the way of entertainment.” He heaved a mock sigh. “All in all, a distressing business.”
“I’m very glad you made it home,” she said in a low, heartfelt voice, not fooled by the forced cheer.
“So am I,” he said with a faint smile as he stretched and shifted in his seat. “Or nearly home, at any rate.” He turned his head to muffle a yawn behind one fist.
They rode in silence for a while, Gwen sobered by his words. Compared to what he had seen, losing a governess’s post must seem like a trifling problem. When she glanced over, it appeared the captain had drifted off to sleep, slumped against the side of the carriage.
Covertly she studied him. He looked exhausted. She’d already noted the dust in the creases of his coat and abruptly wondered if he’d come straight from Spain. He said he was hurrying home to see his grandfather, who was ill. It must be a serious illness indeed to bring a soldier home from war, through winter storms and a naval blockade.
She felt another burst of gratitude that he had offered to take her along, and resolved to be as unobtrusive as possible. She settled herself against the opposite wall and closed her own eyes.
Chapter 3
Gwen startled awake when Reggie grew restless in his basket, setting it rocking violently on her lap. With a gasp she sat up, clutching the basket to keep it from falling. Blinking away sleep, she peered out the window, uneasy at how thickly the snow was falling now. She must have made a sound of dismay, for the captain spoke.
“It’s got worse in the last half hour. Until then we were making good time.”
Gwen stifled a yawn, giving her head a brisk shake. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. “Shall we be able to make it to Blackthorpe, do you think?”
He sighed as he stretched his booted feet forward. “I hope so.”
Gwen nodded and turned back to the window. She must have dozed for quite a while, as the sky was growing dark.
“I must apologize for how I spoke earlier,” said the man beside her. “I didn’t mean to be harsh.”
“Oh, no,” she murmured. “I don’t see how anyone can speak of war without being harsh.”
He gave his faint smile. “Laments about the food and weather, mainly. It’s been a while since I had the pleasure of speaking with a lady, rather than other soldiers.”
She smiled back. “And it’s been a while since I had the pleasure of speaking with another adult, instead of children.”
He shifted his weight and looked puzzled. “How many children do you have?”
Gwen flushed. “Oh! None of my own. I’m a governess—was a governess,” she corrected.
If he noted her awkwardness, he didn’t react to it. “An admirable profession! Nearly as harrowing as the army, I’ll wager.”
Gwen couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Nonsense! That is—I’ve never been in the army, but I adore children. There is something so wonderful about seeing the delight in their faces when they finally understand geometry, or realize they can have an entire conversation in French, or have produced a truly good drawing. There is nothing in the world as excited as a child who has mastered something new, and no greater source of pride, to those around them. I’ve been fortunate, I suppose, in having bright, curious children in my charge. My current family—” She stopped. The Bradfords were not her current family any longer. “My recent family,” she said carefully, “had two boys and three girls, very good children. I shall miss them all.”
Though not their parents, she thought, but did not say.
“And now you’ve had enough of raising someone else’s children?”
