Clarissa glared at the clerk blocking the door of Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt’s office. The self-important wretch was determined to keep her out, claiming that Harcourt was in an important meeting with another officer.

That officer was Christian, and she had to stop him before he destroyed his army career.

“Stand aside, sir,” she ordered impatiently.

The clerk bristled. Puffing his chest out, he pointed to a chair in front of his desk. “Please take a seat, madam. You will wait for the meeting to conclude, or I will call a guard to escort you from the building. I would not wish to embarrass you, but I will not hesitate to do so if I must.”

Clarissa suspected he would, too. The very thought of the commotion that would cause made her almost nauseous. But she was tired of everyone telling her what to do, and no priggish bureaucrat would stop her now. Not when Christian needed her. “If you or anyone else touches me, I’ll scream. As long and as loud as I can. Please step aside from that door.”

The man’s face went purple, and he began to bluster. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

Grumbling under his breath, the clerk shuffled aside, and Clarissa burst into the room before he could change his mind. She slammed the door and leaned against it, trying to calm her pounding heart.

An imposing-looking officer sat behind a massive desk, his bushy moustache quivering with surprise as he stared at her. Christian stood in front of the desk. He pivoted to face her, and his mouth gaped open for a few seconds before he clamped it shut in a grim line.

Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt lumbered to his feet. “What the devil is going on here?” he snapped. “Who, madam, are you?”

Praying her legs wouldn’t collapse under her, Clarissa crossed the room to stand beside Christian. He gave a slight but angry shake of the head.

Meeting Harcourt’s glower, she mentally braced herself and then launched in. “I am Mrs. Middleton, sir. I’ve come to discuss the harm that has been done to my husband, Captain Jeremy Middleton.”

Christian finally exploded. “Good God, Clarissa! You shouldn’t have come here. What were you thinking?”

“Hold your tongue, Captain,” thundered Harcourt. “I will ask the questions.”

Christian snapped back to attention, even though he still looked furious. With her or with Harcourt, she wasn’t sure.

The lieutenant-colonel returned his penetrating gaze to her. “Mrs. Middleton, perhaps you’ll be good enough to explain your behavior. It’s not quite the thing for a lady to be racketing about the Horse Guards without an escort. Your father-in-law wouldn’t approve, I daresay.”

His scowl twisted her stomach into knots, but she held her ground. “My dear sir, do you intend to offer me a seat, or must I stand all afternoon? Has everyone at the Horse Guards forgotten their manners?” She gave an imperious sniff, for good measure.

Harcourt’s ears went red but, to his credit, he wrestled his temper under control. “Forgive me, madam. Apparently I have forgotten my manners.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, be seated.”

“Thank you, but no,” she said loftily. “On second thought, I prefer to stand.”

She heard a slight choke from Christian but didn’t dare look at him. Harcourt’s gaze darted suspiciously between them. To her surprise, he gave a grudging laugh.

“Very well, madam. You have bested me, and on my own territory. How may I be of assistance?”

Relief poured through her so suddenly that her knees wobbled. She wished she could sit after all, but she wouldn’t show Harcourt any sign of weakness.

“There has been a terrible misunderstanding, sir,” she said. “Captain Archer is under the mistaken impression that I wanted him to plead my husband’s case to you. That was never my intention.”

“That’s nonsense and you know it, Clarissa,” Christian exclaimed.

“Captain Archer,” interjected Harcourt. “Remain silent until I give you permission to speak. Is that clear?”

Christian looked ready to argue, so Clarissa pinched his arm. Harcourt’s moustache twitched, but he forbore to comment.

“Yes, sir,” Christian replied stiffly.

“As I was saying, Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt,” Clarissa continued, “Captain Archer has made a mistake. I always intended to bring you myself the information I discovered regarding these scurrilous rumors.”

“That’s odd. The captain seems quite sure of what he is doing,” Harcourt replied in a dry voice. “So sure, in fact, that he was willing to disobey a direct order. I find it difficult to believe he could misapprehend such a thing.”

Clarissa swallowed her frustration. “That was my fault. I begged him to help me. I gave him very little choice in the matter, I assure you.”

Harcourt raised a skeptical brow. “Forgive me for saying so, Mrs. Middleton, but I find your statements contradictory. Did you ask him to disobey a direct order, or did you not?”

Her nerves frayed some more. “Of course I asked him to disobey his orders,” she snapped, feeling defensive. “No one else would help me. My husband’s good name was being trampled into dust, and his fellow officers didn’t seem to care. Not even his superior officers.”

Harcourt tugged on his moustache, looking worried. And, she thought, guilty. Resting her hands on his desk, she leaned forward to press home her point.

“It was a matter of honor,” she said. “Jeremy’s honor. His family’s honor. And, once I asked it of him, Captain Archer’s honor. How could he refuse me?”

Harcourt emitted an unhappy sigh. “Sit down, Mrs. Mid-dleton. There’s no need for us to stand around like we’re on dress parade.” He frowned at Christian. “Except for you, Archer. You remain standing.”

As Clarissa sank into the wooden chair before the desk, she ventured a peek at Christian. His anger had vanished. He even winked at her. Flustered, she turned back to Har-court, who continued to inspect her with open curiosity.

“Lieutenant-Colonel,” she started, hoping to bring the conversation back to the question of Jeremy’s reputation. “Will you be able to help us? My husband’s good name has suffered great injury. It calls for immediate redress.”

Harcourt clasped his hands on his desk, his expression grim. “So Captain Archer and I have just been discussing, Mrs. Middleton. You do understand what you’re asking, don’t you? There will be risk involved in raising this issue, and the outcome is uncertain. Powerful people will do everything they can to refute the claims regarding Lord Blundell’s role in this matter. Captain Archer knows this but you must comprehend it as well, if we are to proceed.”

She squared her shoulders. No longer would she be intimidated by Blundell, or by his father, the marquess, or by any other man. “I’m not afraid.”

Harcourt nodded solemnly. “So I see. Very well, then. I will proceed.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You will? What will you do?” she asked, hardly believing it.

“I’ll make enquiries amongst officers and enlisted men. Quietly, you understand,” he said rather sternly. “This is a delicate situation, and there’s no point rattling the powers that be sooner than we must.”

Clarissa took a deep breath, the first in what seemed like ages. With luck, Jeremy’s good name could be restored. And she owed it to Christian.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt, I can’t tell you how happy this makes me,” she said. “Please accept my gratitude.”

He gave her a brusque nod and rose from his chair. “Mrs. Middleton, I beg you to excuse me. I shall keep you informed of the results of my investigation.”

Clarissa stood but didn’t move away from the desk. There was another, equally important, matter to be resolved. “What will happen to Captain Archer?” she asked, glancing at Christian. He didn’t seem the least bit worried. He gave her a roguish grin, looking so much like the insolent boy she used to know that she almost laughed.

“He’ll return to his post in the Peninsula,” said Harcourt. “It will be up to Lord Wellington to decide his fate.”

Clarissa’s relief evaporated as anxiety took its place. “Please, this was my fault. Not his.”

For the first time, Harcourt smiled at her. “I wouldn’t worry overmuch, Mrs. Middleton. Captain Archer is an excellent soldier. If a bit forward.” He finished sardonically, looking down with a pointed glance.

Clarissa followed his stare and gasped. Somehow, her fingers had become intertwined with Christian’s. She’d been so focused on asking for Harcourt’s forgiveness that she hadn’t even realized Christian had taken her hand.

Her face burned with heat, and she muttered an incoherent apology as she tried to tug her hand away. Christian tightened his grip.

“Christian,” she hissed, mortified.

“Yes, Ladybird?” he replied in the most innocent voice.

Harcourt broke in. “I must step out. Please take a few minutes, Mrs. Middleton, to recover your countenance. Captain Archer will escort you home.”

He waved away Clarissa’s attempt to thank him again and exited the room.

Hesitating, she looked at Christian, who gazed down at her with an adoring smile. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, and he seemed in no hurry to break the silence. Her heart pounded like a drum, leaving her breathless. But from what? Happiness? Trepidation?

He took her hands and raised them to his mouth. When his warm lips brushed over her skin, she trembled.

“I’m very angry with you, Ladybird,” he said, though his voice held a hint of laughter. “You shouldn’t have come down here, flying to my rescue like an avenging angel.”

She snatched her hands away, annoyed that he could think of laughing after such a nerve-wracking scene. “And what about you, you foolish man? Why would you take such a risk?”

“Because it was what you needed me to do—for both our sakes. Once you left Rosedell Manor, and after I calmed down, I realized that. You could never let Jeremy go and move on with your own life as long as this cloud hung over your head.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, gently caressing. “And you were right about another thing. Jeremy did deserve better, especially from me.”

She ducked her head, ashamed to look him in the eye. “Jeremy would have hated that I tried to manipulate you. I’m so sorry, Christian. I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

His leather-clad fingers tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him. She saw only understanding and warmth in his gaze. Her heart cracked under the weight of her own guilt, and the love she felt for him.

“He was your husband. And the army abandoned him after he made the ultimate sacrifice. No woman of spirit could accept such a betrayal. You had no choice but to search for answers.”

“I was so angry,” she said.

“With me or with the army?”

She grimaced. “With Jeremy. For leaving me.” How petty and selfish that anger seemed now.

Christian rubbed a soothing hand along the back of her neck. “He didn’t want to. You were in his thoughts every waking moment. Never doubt that.”

A rush of emotions tightened her throat. Christian, the most selfless man she had ever known, sincerely mourned Jeremy’s death. In a flash, she understood Christian would have spared her the grief of widowhood if it had been in his power, even though it meant he could never be with her.

What a gift she had been given, to have won the love of two such men in a single lifetime.

“Jeremy was a man of honor,” she said. “He always tried to do the right thing, no matter the cost. I was wrong to try to hold him back.”

“You loved him,” he said, as if that explained everything.

She supposed it did, but only Christian understood that. He had never once judged her for hating the war, or for hating what it had done to her life.

“How can I ever thank you?” she asked, fighting back tears.

He lifted his eyebrows, as if surprised by her question. “I should think it was obvious, Ladybird. You can marry me.”

The breath rushed from her lungs, and she almost staggered. It just might kill her to refuse him, but she had no choice.

“I can’t,” she choked out in a miserable voice. “You’re too—”

“Oh, Lord,” he groaned, cutting her off. “Not that again. You certainly didn’t think I was too young when we made love.”

She flushed, both from embarrassment and from the heated remembrance of his touch. “Christian! You mustn’t say such things, especially not here.”

He scoffed, then sat and pulled her onto his lap. He ignored her protests and her feeble attempts to get up.

“Clarissa, you employ your age as an excuse to put me off,” he said in a serious voice. “Damn few will give a hang about that, and you know it. Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

She fiddled with the starched linen of his cravat. His hand covered hers, stilling her restless fingers.

“You are too young, but not in the way you think,” she blurted out.

He frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re still young enough to be reckless. You’ll take dreadful risks in battle to advance your military career. Just like Jeremy. I think that’s why he volunteered for the Forlorn Hope at Badajoz. I’ve already lost one husband to that kind of reckless behavior. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another.”

Christian rubbed his chin, silent for a moment. “I can’t be sure why Jeremy made that choice. All I can do is speak to my own experience. I’m not prone to foolish acts, and I’m not going to risk my life simply to garner notice or glory. I promise you that, love. I’ve been at war for eight long years. It’s a bloody and ugly business, with damn little glory. I do my duty and I do it well, but I seek no honors. Not ones that ultimately mean little more than a piece of ribbon and a medal pinned to a coat.”

Hope stirred in her chest, like the faint hint of the breaking dawn.

“Do you mean that?” She couldn’t keep the doubt from her voice.

He captured her face in his hands, feathering a kiss across her lips. She clutched the lapels of his coat, aching for more.

A few breathless moments later, he drew back. “Trust me. I’m very good at soldiering. It’s what I do.” He rubbed his nose against hers, and she laughed.

“And I promise I’ll always come home to you,” he finished, making it sound like a vow.

She wanted to believe that was true, but she couldn’t. No man who went to war could control his fate. But somehow it didn’t frighten her nearly as much as it used to.

“You can’t promise me that, Christian,” she said, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He kissed her palm. “No. We can never be sure of what the next day will bring. But I can promise that I will always love you, for as many days as I have left on this earth.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had cried enough. If Jeremy’s life—and death—had taught her anything, it was that she wanted to live with joy, not fear.

She wriggled off his lap and straightened her gown. “When do you leave for Portugal?”

He hesitated, then came to his feet. “In a week. Why?”

Clarissa studied him. Christian might very well object, but she had no intention of letting him march off to war without her. She had made that mistake once before, and she wouldn’t do it again.

“That should give me enough time to pack and get things in order. But just barely,” she mused, mentally composing a list of things she needed to accomplish, including settling Colonel Middleton’s sister permanently in Brooke Street.

He gave her a puzzled look. “Where are you going? Devon?”

She rolled her eyes. “To the Peninsula, of course. With my husband. Where else would I be going?”

Christian’s mouth gaped as if he’d been poleaxed. But then, with a joyful laugh, he lifted her off her feet and into a crushing embrace. She squeaked in protest, but he covered her mouth in a gloriously possessive, toe-curling kiss. When he finally released her mouth, she could hardly breathe.

“Are you sure, Clarissa?” he asked, his voice deep with emotion.

She wound her arms around his neck. “I can hardly believe it myself, but yes. I am. And I want to marry you not because it’s what you want, but because it’s what I want.”

He flashed a devastating grin. “I love a woman who knows what she wants.”

She laughed, her heart so full of happiness she thought it would burst. “I choose you, Christian Archer,” she said, holding him close. “I choose you over fear and sorrow and loneliness. I will always choose you.”

He nuzzled her mouth, murmuring gentle words of love. Finally, he lowered her to the floor. As he led her to the door, he glanced down at her, his sapphire eyes glittering with mischief.

“You say that now, sweetheart. But wait until you see my bachelor’s quarters in Portugal. You may run screaming in the opposite direction.”

He was teasing her, of course, as he loved to do. But whatever difficulties lay before them, Clarissa knew there would always be a full measure of love and laughter. Christian would see to that.

She couldn’t wait.