Page 4 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

“You’re a marquess. You have no need to be here. With almost a quarter of a million men serving the king, only one hundred and fifty peers and sons of peers are officers.” He squeezed Evan’s shoulder. “I want you to sell out. Go home. Take your seat in Parliament. Give up this death wish. Few men in the House of Lords have ever gone into battle as you have.” He smiled. “Maybe the next war that occurs, you can make them understand better because of your experience here and prevent others from voting to go to war.”

It was as if Maddox struck him a death blow. “You want me to sell my commission? What if I refuse?”

The colonel nodded sadly. “I cannot command you to do so. I can only advise you that it’s best. You’ve been at war for six years, Major. You’ve become a decorated officer and have the respect of every man who’s ever served under you.” His tone softened. “It’s time to go home, Evan. Make a life beyond this.”

“And if I don’t?”

Maddox’s hand fell. He gaze grew harsh. “I will make it known that you are not fit to hold a battlefield command. I’ll pull the strings that it takes in order for you to be sent back to London and work in the War Office there. I know that’s not where you want to be. I’m telling you. Sell out and return to England—or suffer the consequences.”

*

Evan stood onthe deck of the ship, wearing his officer’s uniform of scarlet coatee and close-fitting white pantaloons tucked into his tall Hessians. He’d left his trunk behind in Spain. It had contained a few short-tailed coatees and gray pantaloons, along with low field boots that he wore on campaign, things he’d no longer need now that he was returning to civilian life. He wondered what titled gentlemen wore these days since he’d been gone from England such a long time.

The only things he’d brought with him were the letters he’d received from Alex and three Bancroft had sent. Winwood’s head groom, who’d taught him to ride as a boy, always had a soft spot for him. He’d written to Evan once a year after his father banished him from home. In the infrequent letters, Bancroft kept him up on local gossip, telling him it was important he be kept in the know for the day when he returned as the new duke. Evan knew Bancroft wrote to him in secret. If the Duke of Winstead learned what his head groom did, the man would be out of a job with no references.

He spied land and knew they’d reach Hastings soon. Edgemere, his estate, lay twenty miles north of the coastal city. Once he’d turned thirteen, he’d gone to Edgemere instead of returning to his uncle’s between school terms. As Marquess of Merrick, he set out to learn everything he could about his estate and had spent many hours with the land manager going over estate records. He’d also gotten out on the land and met every tenant. Before going to war, he was proud to know all of them and their families by name.

When he left to fight, he drew up papers with his solicitor that granted Mitchell Finfrock, Edgemere’s estate manager, full power to run the place as he saw fit. Finfrock had been a kind, father-figure to him while still being a hard-nosed businessman who made sure the estate always turned a profit.

The house itself he’d closed up, letting the staff go since he had no idea how long he’d serve in the army. Only Finfrock, who lived in a small cottage near the stables, and the tenants remained. Evan supposed he’d have to see about hiring new servants to get the house up and running again. The thought depressed him.

The ship docked an hour later. With the only luggage being his satchel, which he carried on his good shoulder, Evan disembarked and went into town. He walked the streets for a bit, familiarizing himself with the city again, and then found a man who loaded his cart with goods. After a brief conversation, where he ascertained the man headed north, Evan offered to pay him to take him to Edgemere. The man readily agreed, only too happy to help an officer from the war return safely home.

The miles went by quickly. It was August in England and everything was green and peaceful in the countryside. He wondered what it would be like adjusting to such a quiet life, with no shells exploding and no men moaning as they lay dying. He’d been so used to having thousands of soldiers around him every day. Now, he would be alone—and dreaded it.

As they drew close to Fairfield, he told the man, “I’ve changed my mind. Let me off here and I’ll walk to the gates. I’m an old friend of Lord Alford and haven’t seen him in years.”

The man did as requested and stopped the cart. Evan had to insist the driver take the money and then climbed from the vehicle. He waved goodbye and started down the long drive to what had always been his second home.

Arriving half an hour later, he knocked at the front door. Alford’s butler recognized him at once.

“Come in, Lord Merrick. It’s grand to see you. You look splendid in your uniform.”

“I know I wasn’t expected, Jones.”

“It doesn’t matter. Lord Alford will be delighted to see you.”

“Evan? Is that you?”

Alex Lock raced down the stairs and wrapped him in a bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re here, in the flesh.” He looked to Jones. “Have tea brought to my study.”

They went to a large, comfortably furnished room. In the past, when he’d been a visiting schoolboy, this room had been off-limits. Of course, that was before Alex had become the Earl of Alford.

“Brandy?” his host offered.

“Why not?”

Alex poured them both a drink and passed a crystal tumbler to him.

“What shall we toast?” he asked his friend.

“That’s obvious. Your safe return to England.”

A dark shadow crossed Evan’s soul as his thoughts turned to his men who would never come home to their loved ones. Still, he wouldn’t press his conflicted mood upon his closest friend.

“To being home in England,” Evan said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could.

They drained their glasses and set them aside. Alex gestured for him to sit.

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