Doug grinned back. “We’ll get the contract. Just you wait.”
He turned to leave but paused at the door. “How is the new warehouseman working out?” It had taken some effort to convince Spratly he needed an assistant—more a man-of-all-work to look after the facility—especially one with a badly scarred face.
“Alfie? Turns out to be a deft hand with a hammer, one-eyed or not. I set him to repair a box, next thing I know he’s enlarging our shelves.” The foreman’s mouth set in a firm line. However good Alfie’s work may be, there wasn’t enough work for another, and they bled enough in salaries as it was.
Winny Potter threw open the door when Doug approached the works. “You’ve a visitor, Mr. Marsh,” she burst out in a faux whisper that carried across the room. “A right fine gent. I put him in your office.”
Doug looked around the yard for some clue he might have missed and found it when Alfie led a magnificent beast from the stable, making room for Doug’s little pony. Whoever owned that big bay had money for certain.
Every eye in the workroom followed his progress across the floor to his office. He opened the door, looked at his visitor, and closed it behind him, shutting out the curious faces.
A man stood behind his desk with hands behind his back. His dress had nothing of the dandy to proclaim his wealth or status, but the cut and cloth spoke of quality and care, and his posture projected power. A black band around one arm proclaimed a recent loss, however, and he’d set his hat on Doug’s desk like a man perfectly at home in a merchant’s office.
His face lit up when Doug entered. “Good to see you, Sergeant,” he said, causing Doug to stand a bit straighter and his heart to warm with affection.
Doug inclined his head. Not enough, perhaps, but more than he would have in the mud of Spain two years ago.The Earl of Chadbourn never was high in the instep.“Welcome, my lord. You’ve surprised me. I never expected you to come here.”
“I escorted my sisters to Bath a week ago. I needed a relief from gossip, the waters, and the shops; I thought I’d look in on an old comrade. Shall we sit?” He took the plain wooden chair by the door, gesturing Doug toward the one behind his desk.
Doug remembered his manners. “I’m afraid we don’t have proper refreshments here, but the coffee’s better than army fare. Would you like a mug?”His mind raced. Earls don’t visit old comrades at their place of business.
Amusement lit the earls deep brown eyes. “I would love some.”
Doug poked his head out the office door and sent Joey in pursuit of two mugs of coffee, ignoring the awed expressions on his employees’ faces. He took the better chair as offered; not to do so would be rude.
“Does it prosper?” the earl asked after an awkward pause, indicating the business with a hand gesture.
“Well enough,” Doug replied. “May do better if a contract with the Assembly Rooms goes through.”
“Well enough to take on extra workers?” Chadbourn asked. “I noticed the one-eyed groom.”
“Warehouseman, my lord. We can’t afford a groom for my little pony,” Doug said ruefully. We also have a one-legged candle maker and another who hasn’t spoken since Badajoz.”
“Ought to be unspeakable,” the earl muttered under his breath. “Not sorry I missed it.” The earl had been called home when his father died just after Wellington retook Ciudad Rodrigo.
Unspeakable. Doug didn’t speak of it now. He accepted a mug of coffee and watched Joey bow out of the office with ludicrous enthusiasm.
The earl took a sip from the steaming mug and grimaced. Better didn’t mean good. “The men you’ve sent to Chadbourn Park have all prospered but one. I regret we weren’t able to help Rogers. His nightmares drove him to drink one time too many, and he never came back from the tavern.”
“Poor sod. He’ll have to face those demons himself,” Doug replied. “Thank you for trying.”
“My brother-in-law frowned at footmen with scarred faces, and so I kept the two you sent. They are excellent workers.”
“Unlamented?” Doug nodded at the black armband.
The earl shrugged. “It has been two months. My sister has collapsed under it. I have to maintain the proprieties.” He added with a whisper, “Just between us, sergeant, the man was a waste of skin.”
Doug had no answer to that. Relatives could be the very devil, but this man lived in a different world. He and the earl shared only respect grown out of shared experiences: the glory of comradeship, the horror of carnage.
In the awkward silence, Corporal Browning came to mind. “Do you have room for another? This one’s missing an arm; you need both hands to make candles.”
“If you can’t take him, I’ll find a place. Is he able enough other than that?”
“I think so. Has his pride still. He’s going hungry rather than resort to something ugly.” They both knew too many men had been left to starve with no prospects. Determination to help bound them together.
The earl sipped his coffee, lost in thought. “Do you know if he can read and write?”
“Sorry, no.”
