to Olivier. ‘Monsieur! You will accompany me and we go at once. Dearest one?’ He took Kate’s hand. ‘You will stay here till I return. I shall not be long. An hour at the most.’ He bent to give her knuckles a kiss, then hurried outside and hauled himself into the nearest saddle, watched Olivier mount, then both men spurred down the track. ‘You will stay here, Sharpe!’ Christopher shouted as he left. ‘Right here! That is an order!’
Vicente watched Christopher and the dragoon Lieutenant ride away. ‘Why has he taken the Frenchman?’
‘God knows,’ Sharpe said, and while Dodd and three other riflemen took Hagman to the stable block he climbed to the top step and took out his superb telescope which he rested on a finely carved stone urn that decorated the small terrace. He trained the glass on the approaching horsemen and saw they were French dragoons. A hundred of them? Maybe more. Sharpe could see the green coats and the pink facings and the straight swords and the brown cloth covers on their polished helmets, then he saw the horsemen curbing their mounts as Christopher and Olivier emerged from Vila Real de Zedes. Sharpe gave the telescope to Harper. ‘Why would that greasy bugger be talking to the Crapauds?’
‘God knows, sir,’ Harper said.
‘So watch ’em, Pat, watch ’em,’ Sharpe said, ‘and if they come any closer, let me know.’ He walked into the Quinta, giving the huge front door a perfunctory knock. Lieutenant Vicente was already in the entrance hall, staring with doglike devotion at Kate Savage who was now evidently Kate Christopher. Sharpe took off his shako and ran a hand through his newly cut hair. ‘Your husband has gone to talk to the French,’ he said, and saw the frown of disapproval on Kate’s face and wondered if that was because Christopher was talking to the French or because she was being addressed by Sharpe. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘You must ask him, Lieutenant,’ she said.
‘My name’s Sharpe.’
‘I know your name,’ Kate said coldly.
‘Richard to my friends.’
‘It is good to know you possess some friends, Mister Sharpe,’ Kate said. She looked at him boldly and Sharpe thought what a beauty she was. She had the sort of face that painters immortalized in oils and it was no wonder that Vicente’s band of earnest poets and philosophers had worshipped her from afar.
‘So why is Colonel Christopher talking to the Frogs, ma’am?’
Kate blinked in surprise, not because her husband was talking with the enemy, but because, for the first time, she had been called ma’am. ‘I told you, Lieutenant,’ she said with some asperity, ‘you must ask him.’
Sharpe walked round the hall. He admired the curving marble stairway, gazed up at a fine tapestry that showed huntresses pursuing a stag, then looked at two busts in opposing niches. The busts had evidently been imported by the late Mister Savage, for one portrayed John Milton and the other was labelled John Bunyan. ‘I was sent to fetch you,’ he said to Kate, still staring at Bunyan.
‘To fetch me, Mister Sharpe?’
‘A Captain Hogan ordered me to find you,’ he told her, ‘and take you back to your mother. She was worried about you.’
Kate blushed, ‘My mother has no cause to worry. I have a husband now.’
‘Now?’ Sharpe said. ‘You were married this morning? That’s what we saw in the church?’
‘Is it any of your business?’ Kate demanded fiercely. Vicente looked crestfallen because he believed Sharpe was bullying the woman he so silently adored.
‘If you’re married, ma’am, then it’s none of my business,’ Sharpe said, ‘because I can’t take a married woman away from her husband, can I?’
‘No, you cannot,’ Kate said, ‘and we were indeed married this morning.’
‘My congratulations, ma’am,’ Sharpe said, then stopped to admire an old grandfather clock. Its face was decorated with smiling moons and bore the legend ‘Thomas Tompion, London’. He opened the polished case and pulled down the weights so that the mechanism began ticking. ‘I expect your mother will be delighted, ma’am.’
‘It is none of your business, Lieutenant,’ Kate said, bridling.
‘Pity she couldn’t be here, eh? Your mother was in tears when I left her.’ He turned on her. ‘Is he really a colonel?’
The question took Kate by surprise, especially after the disconcerting news that her mother had been crying. She blushed, then tried to look dignified and offended. ‘Of course he’s a colonel,’ she said indignantly, ‘and you are impudent, Mister Sharpe.’
Sharpe laughed. His face was grim in repose, made so by the scar on his cheek, but when he smiled or laughed the grimness went, and Kate, to her astonishment, felt her heart skip a beat. She had been remembering the story Christopher had told her, of how the Lady Grace had destroyed her reputation by living with this man. What had Christopher said? Fishing in the dirty end of the lake, but suddenly Kate envied Lady Grace and then remembered she had been married less than an hour and was very properly ashamed of herself. But all the same, she thought, this rogue was horribly attractive when he smiled and he was smiling at her now. ‘You’re right,’ Sharpe said, ‘I am impudent. Always have been and probably always will be and I apologize for it, ma’am.’ He looked around the hall again. ‘This is your mother’s house?’
‘It is my house,’ Kate said, ‘since my father died. And now, I suppose, it is my husband’s property.’
‘I’ve got a wounded man and your husband said he should be put in the stables. I don’t like putting wounded men into stables when there are better rooms.’
Kate blushed, though Sharpe was not sure why, then she pointed towards a door at the back of the hall. ‘The servants have quarters by the kitchens,’ she said, ‘and I’m sure there is a comfortable room there.’ She stepped aside and gestured again at the door. ‘Why don’t you look?’
‘I will, ma’am,’ Sharpe said, but instead of exploring the back parts of the house, he just stared at her.
‘What is it?’ Kate asked, unsettled by his dark gaze.
‘I was merely going to offer you felicitations, ma’am, for your marriage,’ Sharpe said.
‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ Kate said.
‘Marry in haste,’ Sharpe said and paused, and he saw the anger flare in her eyes and he smiled at her again, ‘is something folks often do in wartime,’ he finished. ‘I’ll go round the outside of the house, ma’am.’
He left her to Vicente’s admiration and joined Harper on the terrace. ‘Is the bastard still talking?’ he asked.
‘The Colonel’s still talking to the Crapauds, sir,’ Harper said, gazing through the telescope, ‘and they’re not coming any closer. The Colonel’s full of surprises, isn’t he?’
‘Stuffed as full of them,’ Sharpe said, ‘as a plum pudding.’
‘So what do we do, sir?’
‘We move Dan into a servant’s room by the kitchen. Let the doctor see him. If the doctor thinks he can travel then we’ll go to Amarante.’
‘Do we take the girl?’
‘Not if she’s married, Pat. We can’t do a bloody thing with her if she’s married. She belongs to him now, lock, stock and barrel.’ Sharpe scratched under his collar where a louse had bitten. ‘Pretty girl.’
‘Is she now? I hadn’t noticed.’
‘You lying Irish bastard,’ Sharpe said.
Harper grinned. ‘Aye, well, she’s smooth on the eye, sir, smooth as they come, but she’s also a married woman.’
‘Off bounds, eh?’
‘A