Why was he sleeping here, with Schneider? As if they were keeping guard.
Well, if they were, that was a useless endeavour, for she was quite capable of keeping guard herself.
She looked up and her gaze stopped at a vase filled with purple asters by the windowsill, which, no doubt, the innkeeper’s wife must have placed there.
Evie rose carefully and pulled one out of the vase.
Then, repressing a giggle, she carefully, carefully tucked it behind the Field Marshal’s ear. For good measure, she adorned him with a few more until she was satisfied with her handiwork.
He slept serenely on.
Then, Evie stepped lithely over his outstretched body and sought out the kitchen.
Her stomach was grumbling and she craved some breakfast.
With some good, strong British tea, preferably.
Chapter Nine
With his usual efficiency,Georg had managed to bundle everyone into two carriages and they set off right after breakfast.
Lady Evie was carried down on a stretcher, wrapped tightly in shawls and blankets. They transported her lying flat in one carriage, with the help of mattresses and pillows. Only the maid was accompanying her. The second vehicle carried Schneider, himself, and Miss Honeywell.
The latter was sitting across from him, looking thoughtfully out of the window. She had changed out of her ballroom gown to a simple dark blue cotton dress and a woollen coat. She had dark shadows under her eyes, which left him briefly wondering whether she hadn’t slept well.
He certainly had, to his great surprise, on the floor right outside the laundry room, too. He’d awoken with Schneider shaking him by the shoulder. He’d been sleeping deeply, which was rare, for normally he was a light sleeper and would wake at the batting of a fly’s wing.
When Schneider looked at him oddly, he grumbled, “What?”
“You have, I believe, something in your hair.” Schneider gestured towards his right ear. Georg reached for it and pulled out a purple flower.
“And something here.” Schneider pointed at the top of his hair.
Georg reached up and pulled down whatever had adorned the top of his head.
He stared.
It appeared to be a daintily crafted circlet of purple flowers, usually worn by girls in their hair.
“What on earth…?”
Schneider did not move a muscle. “And here, too.” He pointed at his chest.
True enough, there was yet another one of those blasted flowers peeking out from the top of his button hole. He tore it out and tossed it aside with an impatient humph.
“It appears someone has played a trick on you, sir.” Schneider, of course, had to state the obvious, as if that piece of observation hadn’t dawned on him yet.
He stared at the circlet with a frown, then narrowed his eyes as he looked at the door of the laundry room.
It couldn’t have been her…? But no. The door was still closed. Besides, he would have woken up the moment she’d opened the door. Surely?
“It must have been a child,” Schneider put in unhelpfully. “Of the mischievous kind.”
Yes, it must have been. But even so, how had that not awakened him?
He was disconcerted by the fact that he’d slept through the entire event, when he was trained to wake up as soon as a mouse stirred in the room.
He cast a sharp glance at the woman sitting across from him in the carriage.
