As the evening passed, Catherine knew with nerve-searing certainty that something was terribly wrong. She and Elspeth sat together in the morning room, the dogs at their feet. There was nothing unusual about Louis sleeping, but even Clancy's high spirits were subdued.

It was almost a relief when the knocker banged in an eerie echo of two nights before. Both women dashed to the front door to find Will Ferris again. His face was haggard and blackened by powder, but apart from a bandage around his right forearm, he was uninjured. With a cry, Elspeth flew into his arms.

Catherine envied them, wishing her own life was so simple. She gave them a few moments before asking, "What news, Will?"

Still holding Elspeth, he said in staccato sentences, "The battle is won. Bloodiest thing I ever saw. Your husband isn't hurt, but Captain Mowbry was injured. I came to tell his wife."

"She took the children to Antwerp. What are his injuries?"

"A ball shattered his left forearm. He was knocked from his horse and likely would have died if not for your husband, ma'am. Captain Melbourne turned around, took him up, and brought him back to our lines."

Thank God for Colin's indomitable courage. "I must bring Charles home. Do you feel strong enough to take me o him now, or will you need to rest first?"

Ferris looked alarmed. "I'm well enough, but I can't take you to Waterloo, ma'am. Every house in the village is full of dying men. It's no place for a lady."

"I promised Anne I would care for Charles as if I were her, and by God, I will," she said flatly.

When Ferris tried to protest again, Elspeth said in hersoft burr, "Don't worry, Will. Mrs. Melbourne can manage anything."

Outnumbered, Ferris surrendered. Everett was called from his room above the stables to prepare the small cart that was used for household hauling. The groom covered the flat bed with straw and Elspeth brought blankets while Catherine packed her medical kit, including her laudanum. Rather than travel in the cart with Everett, she donned the breeches she had sometimes worn in Spain and rode Colin's horse, Caesar.

As they set off through the Namur Gate, she asked Ferris about the fate of other friends. He knew nothing about infantry officers like Michael and Kenneth; however, he was well informed about the cavalry regiments. The litany of casualties was brutal. Men Catherine had known for years were dead or grievously wounded. Though the Allies had carried the day, they had paid a bitter, bitter price.

The road passed through a dense forest. It was a lovely drive during normal times, but as they neared the village of Waterloo the way became clogged with wagons, dead horses, and spilled baggage. Luckily their cart could squeeze through where a larger vehicle would have been stopped.

It was after midnight when they reached their destination. Leaving Everett with the cart and horses, Catherine followed Ferris to the house-turned-hospital where Charles had been taken. An irregular mound lay beside the door. With a shudder, she recognized it as a pile of amputated limbs.

Inside the house were the groans and stoic suffering that she knew all too well. A strangled cry came from the salon at the left. She glanced in and saw that the dinner table was being used for operating. A frowning Dr. Hume bent over it.

Ferris led her through the crowded house to the small side room where Charles lay. He was conscious, though obviously in pain. When he saw her, he said huskily, "What are you doing here, Catherine?"

"Substituting for Anne. When the outcome of the fighting looked chancy, Lord Haldoran offered to take her and the children to Antwerp until the danger was past. In return, I promised to care for you. Which means a kiss, though not quite the one Anne would give you." She bent over and touched her lips to his forehead. "We've come to take you home."

He smiled faintly. "I'd like that. I believe it's almost my turn for the cutting room. After my arm comes off, we can go."

His eyes drifted shut. She studied his drawn face, then gave a nod of satisfaction. The arm would certainly have to be amputated, but if there was no infection, he would pull through.

Softly she said to Ferris, "Since we'll be here for a bit, why don't you lie down and get what rest you can?"

He rubbed his face, smearing the powder marks. "A good idea. I noticed an empty corner in the next room. I'll doss down there until you're ready to leave."

A few minutes later, a boyish voice murmured, "Ma'am, could… could you get me some water, please?" The speaker was an ensign on the next pallet. There was a bandage around his head and another around his shoulder. He was heartbreakingly young.

"Of course." She went in search of a pitcher of water and a glass, finding them in the kitchen. The ensign accepted the drink gratefully. She was giving water to a man on the other side of the room when Colin's bemused voice said, "Catherine?"

She looked up to see her husband standing in the doorway. He was filthy and exhausted, but intact. "I'm so glad to see you." She rose and went to him. "I've come to take Charles back to Brussels."

"Good. I stopped by to see how he was." Colin put an arm around her and drew her close in a gesture that was as much fatigue as affection. "Lord, what a fight it was! There's not a man who came through who won't be proud to have taken part, but it was a near-run thing. Damned near-run." For a moment he rested his chin against her hair. Then he released her.

"You were right about your magical immunity to bullets," she said. "Ferris told me you saved Charles's life."

"The credit must go to Michael Kenyon for insisting I take his horse. During the afternoon, we made the grandest cavalry charge I've ever seen. It was magnificent." His eyes brightened at the memory. "We sent the French flying, but we went too far into their territory, then had to retreat with their cavalry after us. The ground was muddy from the rain. If I'd been riding Uno or Duo, they would have caught me."

He grimaced and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "That's exactly what happened to Ponsonby, the Union Brigade commander. Like me, he didn't want to risk his best mount, so he was riding a second-rate hack. Because of the heavy soil, the beast became blown during the retreat. Ponsonby was run down and killed by lancers. I was spared his fate only because Kenyon's horse has incredible stamina. Saved Charles and me both."

"Then I'm very glad Michael insisted on the exchange." She hesitated, then asked, "Do you know how he fared in the battle?"

"I've no idea." Colin's brows drew together. "Did you come here on Caesar? If so, I'll take him and you can ride Thor back to Brussels. Because the Prussians missed most of the battle, they took charge of the pursuit, but tomorrow I imagine we'll go after the French, too. I'll need a fresh horse."

Catherine described where Colin could find Caesar. "Is the fighting over?"

Her husband shrugged. "If Napoleon manages to regroup, there could be another battle."

"Dear Lord, I hope not," she said with a glance at the wounded men surrounding them.

"Perhaps it won't come to that. I don't imagine I'll see you again until we're in Paris. Take care." Colin kissed her cheek absently and left.

A few minutes later, orderlies came to take Charles to Dr. Hume. Catherine accompanied him. The exhausted surgeon greeted her with no show of surprise. After a careful examination, he said, "You're in luck, Captain. I'll be able to leave you the elbow. Do you want a piece of wood to bite?"

Charles closed his eyes, the skin tightening across his cheekbones. "That shouldn't be necessary."

Catherine moved forward and took hold of his right hand. His fingers clamped around hers and sweat showed on his brow when Hume sawed off the injured arm, but he uttered no sound. Hume had the swiftness that was essential to a good surgeon, and the operation was over in minutes.

An orderly was taking away the severed limb when Charles said hoarsely, "Wait-before you toss that out. There's a ring my wife gave me on our wedding day. I'd like it back, please."

The orderly looked startled. Then he tugged the ring from the dead finger. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Catherine took the ring and slid it onto the third finger of Charles's right hand. He whispered, "Thank you."

Catherine said, "Dr. Hume, I want to take him back to Brussels. Will that be all right?"

"He'll be better off there than here," the surgeon said. "Give him some laudanum so the jarring of the cart won't distress him too much. You know how to change dressings.".

"Yes, and I've also got Ian Kinlock staying at my house, when he has time to rest."

Hume laughed, his expression lightening. "Trust you for that. Mowbry's a lucky man-he'll have the best of care."

The surgeon returned to his operating table. Catherine instructed the orderlies to take Charles back to his former pallet. She gave him laudanum, then sat back to wait for the drug to take effect. A few minutes later, she again heard a surprised male voice say, "Catherine?"

When she looked up, it took a moment for her to recognize the man in the doorway because of the sticking plaster that covered most of his cheek and curved into his dark hair. But the burly build was unmistakable.

"Kenneth!" She rose and took his hands. His Rifle Brigade uniform was almost unidentifiable and one epaulet had been shot off, but he was blessedly alive. "Thank God you came through." She glanced at the sticking plaster. "A saber slash?"