Marrying the Royal Marine by Carla Kelly

Author:Carla Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

‘So that is why you married her,’ the Sergeant said.

Polly flinched, which made Hugh’s heart sink even lower. Bastard! he thought. Damn the man. But this was no time to argue, so he merely shrugged. ‘Think what you will. I am speaking of money. Dinero, dinheiro, denaro, geld. Think of all the words for money you have learned as you have tramped through Europe! Imagine that in your pockets.’

He had no idea how this would play. If today was his unlucky day—so far, there was nothing to dispute the notion it could be the unluckiest day of his life—then he had just attempted to bribe one of the few incorruptible men in anyone’s army. He stood up, pulled Polly to her feet, and started walking away from the church. One step, two steps, another. The Sergeant did not stop him, but walked at his side. Was it possible even a battle-hardened veteran of Napoleon’s campaigns didn’t care so much for what had just happened? One could hope; Hugh did. But then,

‘A bribe? You want to bribe me, Colonel?’ the Sergeant asked, putting out his hand to stop them.

I found the only honest man in Napoleon’s army, Hugh thought with regret. Well, then, we have nothing to lose. ‘I suppose I do,’ he said frankly. ‘One doesn’t make Colonel without exercising some initiative. Not in the Royal Marines, at least.’

He knew how that sounded in English. In French, Hugh thought it had a certain Gallic panache. At least the Sergeant hadn’t motioned for one of his men to run him through with a sword.

In fact, the Sergeant was smiling—a little smile, to be sure, but a smile. After a long pause, the Sergeant even chuckled. In for a penny, Hugh thought. ‘It’s not for me, especially,’ he said. He turned to Polly and gave her a kiss on the temple and a little shake to get her attention. ‘And it’s not even just for my wife.’ He nudged Polly again. ‘Shall I tell him, darling?’

He looked her in the eyes and she gazed back through those spectacles that magnified her eyes a little. Follow me with this, he thought, trying to communicate through nothing more than a look, something he knew his parents, married years and years, had been quite good at. To his infinite relief, she inclined her head towards him as though the conversation was a delicate one.

‘It’s this, Sergeant: my wife is in the family way. I especially want her to survive this experience and at least give my estate an heir.’

To her credit, Polly didn’t even flinch. He knew she understood his French, because her lips came together in a firm line and she concentrated on her shoes.

‘If you can help us, it is worth a great deal to me, Sergeant,’ he concluded simply.

They were in the square now. Hugh concentrated all his attention on the Sergeant, even as his skin crawled at the sound of women and children screaming in some of the buildings. The

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