Antwerp

D uring the crossing to , Kenneth had many opportunities to study William Halstead. His old friend had aged considerably since they'd set off together with high hopes for the Vienna Congress. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Pneumonia had taken its toll, but Kenneth sensed the turmoil within his family had drained his fellow duke.

Despite her father's objections, Lady Willow had journeyed to the docks to see them off. She'd insisted he show her where Niven had worked in the offices. Clearly holding back tears, she'd sat in Niven's chair until the time came to board the Blue Spruce .

Kenneth could only hope his cousin had survived whatever had befallen him in the Netherlands.

Uncertainty as to Rowan's injuries must be gnawing at William. Kenneth barely knew the Withenshawe heir but, if Niven was dead, Willow would hold her brother responsible.

And what of Daisy? Did Kenneth's sister have the courage to wed a severely injured man? Falling in love with Rowan had changed her. She was no longer the selfish, frivolous girl she'd once been. But would it be enough?

As the ship eased into the berth, Kenneth filled his lungs with the salty air and decided he was being too negative. Rowan had probably suffered a bullet wound and Niven was a hardy Highlander. All would be well.

"So," he asked William. "What's the plan now we've reached ?"

Withenshawe shrugged. "I'll speak with my people here about the lay of the land. Get a sense of how we should proceed."

Losing Niven had changed Willow. She knew it for a fact as she sat once more at his desk in the offices of her father's shipping company after the departure of the Blue Spruce . When he'd first disappeared, she'd wondered, as others must have, if the anger she felt was simply the reaction of a spoiled child deprived of a toy.

But the gaping hole in her heart had never gone away. Without Niven, she wasn't a whole person. He was in her soul. Her love for him was like the blood flowing through her veins. If they'd eloped as planned, she might never have been as sure of her commitment as she was now. It was a bittersweet realization.

"Come back to me," she whispered, ignoring the curious glances of her father's clerks.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Lady Willow," a gravelly voice said. "We miss Mr. King too."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looked up. It wasn't clear who had spoken because every eye held a tear and every head was nodding in sympathy.

Tired of struggling to maintain her composure, she put her head down on the weathered desk and wept.

In , Kenneth and his fellow duke strode down the gangway and stepped ashore on the dock reserved for Withenshawe ships. They were met by a harried, balding clerk who was sweating profusely.

"Pierre," William said. "What news?"

"Your Grace," the man replied in accented English. "I don't recommend going any further. We've had to close the gates."

Puzzled, Kenneth looked across at the locked gates. A burly British soldier stood glaring at them from the other side, three stripes visible on his sleeve. "In the name of His Majesty, I demand you open these gates," he shouted, his face as red as his bushy mustache.

"What's going on?" Withenshawe asked.

"Wounded men are strewn about everywhere on the docks," Pierre replied. "I was afraid to let them in here with no ship in dock."

"I commandeer this ship in the name of His Britannic Majesty," the British sergeant shouted.

William walked calmly to the chained gates. "There is no need to commandeer my ship, Sergeant. I am the Duke of Withenshawe and I have offered my fleet for the repatriation of our wounded men. Remove these chains, Pierre."

The sergeant lost his bluster. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. I'm just anxious to get these lads home. They've been through a lot."

"I understand. My son was wounded at Waterloo. I've come looking for him."

"Sorry to hear that, Yer Grace. However, my guess would be your son is an officer."

"You'd be correct."

"Then he won't be here. So far, we've only been able to evacuate those rank and file who could walk from Waterloo."

"But you said they are wounded," Kenneth replied. "From what I understand, that must be close to fifty miles."

"And the march nigh on finished some of them off," the sergeant replied.

"Get them on board quickly," Withenshawe responded.

The sergeant saluted and hurried away as Pierre unlocked the wrought iron gates. Kenneth would never forget the pitiful sight that greeted them when they ventured out into the main docks. If these exhausted, bandaged, dirty men who were too weak to stand were the slightly wounded, heaven help those with severe injuries.

Judging by the pallor on William's face, he was as shocked as Kenneth and probably even more desperate to find Rowan than before.

"Stop fretting about the blessed bagpipes," Rowan told Niven as the carriage finally pulled into 's dockland.

"Ye dinna understand," Niven replied, staring at the ruined bag in his lap. "These pipes have been passed down for generations."

"All the more reason for a new set," Rowan retorted. "I'll even buy them for you."

Heartbroken as Niven was, it was good to hear Rowan speak of the future. "Why would ye do that?"

"Well, if you hadn't insisted on fussing about to get me out of the carriage, the lad would have skewered me. In other words, you saved my life."

"I suppose…"

"And I'll never forgive you for it."

Puzzled, Niven glanced at Rowan, relieved to see a trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Good grief," Uxbridge exclaimed when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

The reason for the outburst became clear when Niven looked out of the window. As far as the eye could see, wounded Allied soldiers lay prostrate on the docks.

"Excuse me, Sir," Wharf said as he opened the door. "Permission to tend to these men."

"Granted," Uxbridge replied without hesitation.

Wharf saluted and left.

Further along the dock, some were boarding a ship that Niven thought looked familiar. "'Tis the Blue Spruce ," he exclaimed.

"Blue what?" the earl demanded.

"It's a Withenshawe ship, Sir," Rowan replied. "Niven will get us aboard."

Pleased by this unexpected vote of confidence, Niven got out of the carriage and made his slow way through the wounded to the ship, his hopes rising that he may yet see Willow again.