The Work of Art: A Regency Romance by Mimi Matthews

Author:Mimi Matthews [Matthews, Mimi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Perfectly Proper Press
Published: 2019-07-22T22:00:00+00:00

Philly went very still in his arms. “That’s why you were so certain that you might have killed me? Because of what you did to this other man?”

Arthur felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he looked down at her. “I’ve frightened you.”

“Yes. Perhaps a little. I didn’t believe you when you said you could have harmed me. I thought you were merely distraught. But now…” She was trembling. “If you woke from a nightmare and thought I was this man…”

“I shouldn’t have told you. It’s served no purpose except to upset you.”

“It’s too late for that now. You must continue.” She tightened her fingers on the front of his waistcoat. “Who was he, Arthur? Why did you have to kill him in such a brutal manner?”

If he hadn’t told her so much already, Arthur would have said nothing more. But Philly was right. He must continue. “The last battle I fought in Spain…It was at Albuera.”

Her brows drew together in an elegant line. “It didn’t have a favorable outcome, I fear.”

“We won the battle,” Arthur informed her dryly. “We were annihilated by cavalry, cut to ribbons by musket fire, and by every measure smashed beyond all recognition, but we won the battle. Unfortunately, there were precious few of us left to enjoy the victory.”

“Oh, Arthur.”

“My regiment fought until we weren’t a regiment anymore. It was chaos, Philly. Cannon fire, smoke, and driving rain. The French pouring over the hills from every direction like a flood, and our own men outflanked and outnumbered. My horse, a chestnut named Lucius, took a musket ball through his shoulder, and I took one in my leg. I managed to continue fighting until a shot from a cannon cut Lucius out from under me. At the same time a piece of artillery shell struck me in the back of the head. I was unconscious before I hit the ground.”

She clutched his waistcoat even tighter, crushing the fabric in her fingers.

“There were too many wounded to treat, and those of us who couldn’t walk off the battlefield were left to lie there. It rained all night, even worse than it had during the battle, and there were sounds—all sorts of sounds like the howling of the wolves and the carrion birds that came to scavenge amongst the bodies, the sounds of men crying out for help, the sounds of men dying. I stayed on that battlefield, bleeding and insensible, for more than a day, halfway sunk into the mud and the mire beneath the dead bodies of my men. When the search parties finally came through, they didn’t see me.”

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the water lapping in the pond faded away. Arthur had a sense that he was somewhere else entirely.

“At nightfall, the human scavengers came. They stripped the bodies. Stole whatever was of value. If the soldier they robbed happened to have a little life left in him, they snuffed it out with a knife or a hammer.

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