The Captain and the Cavalry Trooper by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

Author:Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead [Harkstead, Catherine Curzon and Eleanor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Published: 2018-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

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In rooms that had once housed the doomed monarchs of the Bourbon dynasty, their grandest inhabitant now sat against the pillows in an opulent four-poster bed, elegantly smoking an expensive cigarette. Queenie felt far more at home here than he ever had in dull old Oxford or gray old London, and it was right that he be on the arm of a general. At least until a field marshal came up for grabs. He glanced at Bowes-Fitzgerald, his head resting on the pillow beside Queenie, and thought how old the general was looking these days—far older than he had during their assignations in the pre-war city.

Perhaps it was the war, perhaps it was the fact that Queenie Charles had been kicking him in the balls with an army boot for the better part of five minutes, or perhaps it was the strain of being walked around the rococo suite on the end of a silk scarf that had been fashioned into a dog’s leash, but whatever the cause, he had aged by a decade since he’d shed his uniform.

“Daddy.” Queenie pouted his most beautiful pout and danced his fingers through the general’s white hair. If his real daddy had been a general perhaps he wouldn’t be here at all, but Alfred Charles was a clerk, a nobody, so his son was a manure-shoveling groom. “Your Queenie is not a happy little thing.”

“Yes, my lady, what is it?”

“Look at my hands.” He held them out, showing off his pale, smooth palms and elegant fingers, the nails almost pristine but not quite. “I’m not made to shovel shit, am I? It occurs to me that I’m made for chateau life!”

“My elegant Dotty-Dolly, my lovely girl.” The general clasped Queenie’s hands and pressed them to his mouth. He winced slightly as he shifted on the pillows. “You have claws, too.”

“They are not half so sharp as Captain Thorne’s temper.” His pout grew more dramatic. “He has been very cruel to me, Daddy, because I wanted to stay true to you. I know he has been spreading the most nasty rumors about me, you cannot believe anything he tells you!”

“A report has come across my desk from Thorne, about certain…” Bowes-Fitzgerald cleared his throat. “I don’t have to read it, Dotty-Dolly. Would you like Daddy to tear it up for candle-spills?”

“And perhaps just a little, tiny signature from my daddy might move me into the chateau? I’d be so much happier polishing an officer’s cap badge than shoveling up muck in a nasty old yard.” Queenie leaned down to kiss the general’s forehead, breathing in the scent of cigar smoke. “And might I have a little room to call my own? I talk so loudly in my sleep, and I say all sorts of silly things!”

Bowes-Fitzgerald’s mouth became a tight, bloodless line. “Well, we can’t have that, can we, what? A transfer for my dear Dotty-Dolly… That can be arranged…oh yes—into the chateau you shall go, my darling!”

“My adorable, darling daddy!” Queenie snuggled to the general and took a drag on his cigarette.

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