The Ball

JUNE 15TH 1815, brUSSELS

R owan was concerned for his youngest brother. Thorne seemed to have lapsed into a trance. Rowan had seen seasoned veterans withdraw into themselves when they faced a fierce battle and had to admit Thorne was no soldier. "Come with us," he urged when his brother refused to accompany him and Ash to a ball hosted by the Duchess of Richmond. "The entertainment's meant to take our minds off the situation."

"Is that what this is?" Thorne replied sarcastically. "A situation?"

Rowan lay a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Look, we're all afraid. There's no shame in that. I'll have your back. You, Ash and I are a team. Most men won't have two other officers looking out for them."

He was relieved when Thorne attempted a smile and said, "You're right, as always. After all, it's our duty to make sure you return home safely and marry Lady Daisy."

Mention of the woman he loved knocked Rowan off balance. When the time came to face the French, he couldn't afford to be distracted by thoughts of marital intimacy. War was the immediate future. Thinking beyond that reality could undermine a man's ability to survive. "Put on your dress uniform," he told Thorne. "We're off to a ball."

"We could be back in England," Thorne remarked to his brothers after they'd passed through the receiving line and been greeted by the Duchess of Richmond.

A string quartet played for dancing couples. A long queue had formed at the refreshment table. Groups of officers lined the perimeter of the dance floor.

"Except that all the men are in uniform," Ash replied.

"And, despite the music, it's eerily quiet," Thorne said.

"Well," Rowan interjected. "We might relax for short while, but there's no getting away from what we'll face in a few days."

Thorne pitied Rowan. For the first time in anyone's memory, his brother had taken an interest in a woman. Yet, here he was, miles away from her, risking it all for his country. At least no ladylove would mourn Thorne's passing if he fell in battle. However, his death would add to Willow's grief. If all three Halstead boys were killed, their father would never recover.

There was much to live for. He didn't have a special woman in his life, but there were people who loved him, although he feared Willow might hate him when she discovered what her brothers had done.

Niven had reportedly joined the Highland Regiment which meant the Halsteads would have no opportunity to see him safe. His blood would be on their hands.

A knot of dread tightened in Ash's belly when Wellington mounted the dais at the front of the ballroom and signaled an end to the music. People whispered that perhaps the duke was about to remark on midnight's passing a few minutes ago, but Ash doubted it. Wellington had on his warrior face.

"Gentlemen," he intoned. "And dear ladies."

His somber tone of voice convinced Ash the news was bad.

"I apologize to the Duchess, but Napoleon has crossed the border into the Netherlands. We must march forthwith to halt his progress."

The fateful hour had come sooner than everyone expected, but Ash felt relieved. The terrible waiting was over. He'd never wanted to be a soldier but, by God, he'd do his utmost to put an end to the Corsican upstart's ambitions.