Flint’s eyes widened, but he dropped to the floor and reached under the same bed she’d been crouched under not what, four days ago? He got the thankfully empty chamber pot to her just in time.
She didn’t have much to lose, since she hadn’t had her breakfast yet, but what little she did have ended up in the chamber pot, her stomach heaving relentlessly for far too long.
By the time she could chance straightening, Flint was seated alongside her, his arm around her shoulder.
“Here,” he said, offering his handkerchief. “Start here.”
Felicity accepted it and wiped her mouth with badly trembling hands. “Thank you. Sorry. I believe I have had one too many surprises today.”
“You?” Flint echoed on a wry laugh. “I’ll thank you not to pull a stunt like that again as long as I live.”
She looked up. “I wasn’t the one with the gun. He was waiting in my room.”
Flint nodded. His left arm still around her, he reached over to brush the damp hair back from her face. His hand was shaking as badly as hers.
Before she could think better of it, Felicity caught hold of it and pressed it against her chest. “We’re all safe,” she said. “Breathe.”
His chuckle was dust-dry. “I am here to comfortyou, you little nodcock. Not the other way around.”
“There is no rule that says we may not comfort each other.”
Reaching for the chamber pot, he cast a wry look at her. “Are we finished here?”
She gratefully handed it over. “Your reflexes are excellent.”
“Too much practice.”
Setting the pan on the end table, he reached back around and gathered her into his arms. Felicity wanted to sob. She had never felt so warm, comforted or safe in her life. It wouldn’t last, though. It had never been meant to last.
At least for this moment she could savor it. She could pretend that when she was frightened or sad or frustrated, she would always have Flint’s arms to walk into, his chest to rest against, the steady thrum of his heart to beat against her ear.
“I cannot believe you did that,” he whispered over her head, resting his cheek against her crown.
“Did what? I told you. Mr. Reed was waiting for me. Not the other way around.”
“I’m talking about someone far more dangerous.”
“Oh, the duke?” she huffed in outrage all over again. “He does not deserve you.”
There was a pause, and then the returned rumble of his voice against her ear. “How did you know about Hougoumont?”
“If you remember, I mentioned that we followed all your exploits at school.”
“Hougoumont happened in June. You’ve been out of school for three years.”
“Anyone who followed news of the battle of Waterloo knows what a heroic stand the soldiers made there. Besides, one of my girls’ brothers is in the Coldstream Guards.”
“What is his name?”
“Fletcher. Lieutenant Harvey Fletcher.”
“Gangly blond who laughs like a horse?”
She pulled her head back and grinned at him. “That is Lieutenant Fletcher to the life. You pulled him out of that barn, didn’t you? He didn’t talk about it much, but he had burns, too, and he thought you walked on water.”
She saw Flint close his eyes and knew she had pushed him back into that nightmare. Lifting her free hand, she laid it against his cheek.
“If you had gone back in yet again, we would have lost you, too, and the men would have lost their leader. And then who knows what would have happened to the rest? You all saved the battle by holding Hougoumont.”
