“Come down to the kitchen. There should be hot water there and you can wash up while I find you food.” She wrapped a supportive arm around his waist and steered him toward the steps that ran down to the kitchen and servants’ quarters. “You can tell me what is going on out in the world.”
“The French are invading through Charleroi,” he said succinctly. “There will be a battle soon, maybe several. Wellington has been waiting to see which way the emperor will jump. As of tonight he’s moving out and preparing to engage. I could tell you far more if you wish, but let’s save that for later.”
“We have better things to talk about,” she agreed.
They’d reached the long kitchen. At one end there was a decent-sized hip bath and a screen that could be placed in front of it for privacy. A heavy bucket of water was always warmed by the kitchen fire. Simon had just about enough energy left to dump the hot water in the hip bath, along with some cooler water so he wouldn’t poach.
He moved behind the screen and started stripping off his travel-stained garments. “Is the screen necessary? I’m quite sure you’ve seen everything.”
She laughed and handed a glass of red wine over the screen. “I don’t want another woman to come in and see how lucky I am!”
“I’m a fairly sorry specimen just now.” He subsided into the water and closed his eyes as he sipped the wine, feeling delightfully pampered. “Speaking of which, where is everyone? I’d have thought that the drums and bugles would have woken up the household.”
“I think most of the household has gone out to see what is happening. Except Marie, of course, and Madame Maurice, who is sitting with her.”
From what he could hear, Suzanne was slicing food, meat or bread or cheese. At the moment, he wasn’t particular. She continued, “Where will the troops assemble before they march out?”
“The Place Royale in the lower town.” He sipped more wine. “It will be a madhouse there.”
“Many good-byes,” she said softly. “I’m lucky that I’m saying hello tonight.”
He thought about not saying more, but better she was warned. “Wellington might want me for something else, but he did tell me to come home and get some rest tonight.”
“Oh.” Suzanne’s voice was distinctly unenthusiastic. “While you’re splashing, I’ll go upstairs to get your robe. I don’t suppose you want to put those clothes on again.”
“Definitely not.” He applied himself to scrubbing thoroughly, from the top of his head to his toes. He was reluctant to emerge from the warm water, but falling asleep in the hip bath wasn’t appealing. He’d climbed from the tub and had toweled himself reasonably dry by the time Suzanne returned with his robe and a pair of heavy socks.
Since he was properly decent and clean, he gave her a long, warm embrace after he emerged from behind the screen. Lord, he’d missed her!
The feeling was mutual. She moved away reluctantly. “The sooner you’re fed, the sooner to bed.”
He smiled. “Don’t expect much when we get there.”
“We’ll see.” She gestured toward the table. Ham, cheese, bread, a slice of meat pie, and more wine. It was the best meal he’d seen since he’d left the Cordiers’ house.
As he dug into the food, she poured wine for herself before saying, “I have really good news—Lucas has shown up on our doorstep and he’s sleeping upstairs. He was almost as tired as you are.”
Simon looked up from his food, delighted. “Lucas is here? Or rather, Frère Jude?”
“He is now Lucas again, having decided it was time to leave Frère Jude and his self-imposed exile behind.” Suzanne sipped her wine. “He said he felt he would be needed here.”
“He always had an uncanny ability to do that,” Simon said as he applied himself to the meat pie again. “I once was tossed by my pony and broke my arm. Lucas felt something was wrong and came and found me.” He swallowed a bit of pie. “Similar things happened more than once.”
“That’s a useful ability! I suppose he’s now being drawn by the knowledge of the upcoming battle and its victims.”
“Very likely. He was always a better man than I.” Simon took a thoughtful swallow of wine. “His ability to find me was a result of how close we were, I think. I might have a touch of the same thing, because I could never quite believe he was dead. It seemed that somewhere out there, he must be alive. And he was.”
“I’m so glad for both of you.” Suzanne set her half-empty wineglass down and asked the question whose answer she didn’t want to hear. “How long do you think it will be before you find out what Wellington wants of you?”
“I don’t know.” Simon pushed his plate away, no longer hungry, his gaze on Suzanne. “Perhaps twenty-four hours.”
She stood and extended her hand. “Then let’s not waste any of that time,mon chéri.”
Chapter 39
Suzanne fell asleep with a smile, safe in Simon’s arms. And was wakened by a woman’s wrenching cry of agony.
Beside her Simon also blazed into wakefulness. “What?”
