The sentry took two steps sideways and stood in front of the door, musket held across his chest and his blue nose forbidding in its righteousness.
“You aren’t a-coming in, friend,” he said. “The doctor’s with Brigadier Bleeker, and he’s not to be disturbed.”
William made a low sound that wasn’t quite a growl. It didn’t affect Blue Nose, though, and he tried again.
“What about Mrs. Hunter? Is she in camp, perhaps?” God, he hoped not. He glanced over his shoulder at the sprawling mess below.
“Oh. Aye. She’s in there.” The sentry jerked a thumb backward, indicating the house. “With the doctor and the brigadier.”
“The brigadier … that would be …？”
“General Bleeker. General Ralph Bleeker.”
William sighed.
“Well, if I can’t go in, would you be so kind as to go inside and tell her that her cousin has come with a message for her husband? She can come out and get it, surely.”
It nearly worked. He could see doubt warring with duty on the man’s face—but duty won, and Blue Nose doggedly shook his head and waved a hand.
“Shoo.”
William turned on his heel and did so. He strode down the hill, not looking back—and turned aside as soon as the growth of shrubs and small trees hid him from the sentry’s view.
It took no little while to circle the hilltop and make his way carefully up through the grain mill, but he was able to blend in with the people waiting there to have their flour ground and could easily see the house. Yes, there was a back door. And no, glory be to God, there was no sentry—at least not right this moment.
He waited until the small crowd had stopped noticing him and stepped away in the half-furtive manner of a man going for a piss. Quick past the forge and up to the door, and … in.
He closed the back door behind him with a surge of pleasure.
“Sir?” He turned round, finding himself in the kitchen, and the cynosure of the gaze of a cook and several kitchen maids. The air was perfumed with the smell of roasting meat—there was a huge pig turning on the spit in the spacious hearth and his mouth was watering—but food could wait.
He bowed and lifted his hat briefly to the cook.
“Your pardon, ma’am. I’ve a message for the doctor.”
“Oh, he’s in the parlor,” said one of the younger maids. She looked admiringly up William’s body, and he smiled at her. “I’ll take you!”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said, and bowed ingratiatingly again before following her out.
The house was comfortable, but seemed to have quite a few people in it; he could hear voices and the sound of footsteps overhead—there was a second story over the back part of the house. The maid led him to a closed door and bobbed a curtsy. He thanked her again, and as he reached for the porcelain knob of the door, he heard the unmistakable sound of his cousin Dottie’s gurgling laugh, and his own face broke into a grin.
He was still wearing the grin when he stepped into the room. Dottie was sitting in a chair by the fire, some sort of knitting on her lap, her face full of lively attention as the man in Continental uniform standing by the hearth said something to her.
Denzell was there, too, by the window, but William scarcely noticed, frozen to the spot by the sound of the man’s voice.
“William!” Dottie exclaimed, dropping her knitting. The man by the hearth turned sharply.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, staring in shock. “What the devil are you doing here?” The blue of his coat gave his winter-pale-blue eyes a piercing glint.
William felt as though he’d been kicked in the stomach by a mule, but managed a breath.
“Hallo, Ben,” he said flatly.
104
General Fucking Bleeker
BEN LOOKED AT HIM with a cold formality and said, “That would be General Bleeker to you, sir.” That might have been taken as humor, but it bloody wasn’t, and wasn’t meant to be.
“Bleeker,” William said, making it almost a question. “All right, if you must. But Ralph?”
Ben’s face darkened, but he kept his temper.
“It isn’t Ralph,” he said shortly. “It’s Rafe.”
“One of Ben’s names is Raphael,” Dottie said pleasantly, as though making conversation over the tea table. “After our maternal grandfather. His name is Raphael Wattiswade.”
“Is?” William said, startled into looking at her. “I thought your mother’s father was dead.” He switched the look back to his cousin. “For that matter, I thought you were dead.”