To Dare a Rogue, Lana Williams [read an ebook week txt] 📗

They finished the dance in silence. James was deep in thought, trying to decide how best to proceed. But before he considered his options, he needed to know one important detail.

“Charlotte,” he began as he offered his arm, hoping he could find the right way to ask his question, “if I were to call on you soon—”

Tears filled her eyes even as she shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise.” She glanced at her mother as if worried she could somehow overhear their conversation.

“Set aside what everyone else wants,” he whispered as he walked as slowly as possible toward Lady Wynn. “How would you feel if I called on you?”

“You must know how much I would enjoy that.” Yet she looked away. “But I fear it’s too late.”

“We shall see.” He had to think it wasn’t given the fact that her betrothal hadn’t yet been announced.

“James, I don’t think—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” She replied without hesitation, and his heart shifted.

“That is all I need to know.” He lifted her gloved hand to brush his lips against it. “I will see you soon.”

The time had come to move forward with his life. To claim it as his own. To act rather than react. The future was coming regardless of whether he welcomed it. If he had a chance for happiness with Charlotte, he needed to reach for it. To fight for her and all that simmered between them. Being with her helped to mend the broken parts of him. He wouldn’t rest until he was whole enough to deserve her.

Chapter Sixteen

James walked into the club for the meeting with the Earl of Granger the following morning, a mix of curiosity and wariness coursing through him. He couldn’t see how he was in any position to help other soldiers when he struggled to slay his own demons. But he wanted to move forward, especially with Charlotte. Perhaps listening to Granger might help in some way.

To his surprise, Granger was already seated at a table in a corner. He rose at James’ approach and reached to shake his hand with a firm grip.

“Good to see you, Redmond. Thank you for meeting me.” His determination in all he undertook caused him to be an intimidating man. Dark hair and a serious demeanor added to the impression.

“My pleasure.” James took a seat, relieved to see the table the earl had selected afforded them some privacy. “I confess that I don't feel I'm in any position to help other soldiers. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

Granger smiled noncommittally, his expression softening. “If nothing else, I would appreciate your opinion on some of the efforts we've made thus far. I believe you were a captain in the infantry?”

“Yes, I bought my commission in 1812 and initially fought in Portugal and Spain.” Even the mention of those dark days tightened his stomach. “And, of course, at Waterloo.”

Granger nodded. “The infantry was the only force not to suffer a major defeat at Napoleon’s hands. Still, those years must’ve been difficult in many respects.”

“They were. Especially on the men in my battalion. Then again, war isn't easy for anyone.” Admitting that had him shifting uncomfortably.

“While those who remained home are pleased it’s over, I don't think most understand how difficult it is for the returning soldiers. For some men, the troubles have continued.”

“True,” James agreed. “Many find it difficult to speak to their loved ones of what happened and what they endured.”

“Have you found that to be the case as well?”

James considered brushing off the question but the curiosity and empathy in Granger's expression encouraged an honest answer. “I am still trying to adjust. While part of me wishes to forget everything that happened, doing so has proven impossible. Yet speaking about it brings emotions back to the surface.” He sighed. “Neither option seems helpful.”

“I have spoken with officers and soldiers alike who share those same mixed feelings. War is a traumatic experience and, in all honesty, it would be concerning if those who served were not affected by it. Coming home with both internal and external scars confirms one’s humanity. Only those with no heart walk away unscathed. I don’t believe those are the type of men we want fighting on England’s behalf.”

A certain measure of comfort settled over James to know he wasn’t alone in the way he felt. He hadn't realized how isolated he'd become since his return. Understanding others suffered from the same issues he did was both a relief and a concern.

“I was pleased to hear someone such as yourself has taken an interest in the soldiers and their challenges,” James said, already certain that Granger’s desire to help was sincere. “Considering the army went from 40,000 men in 1793 to over 250,000 by 1813, and now has reduced to nearly half that, the need is great. Many could use a helping hand to return to their feet.”

“A significant number returned home injured and are no longer able to do the same work they did prior to joining the war effort.” Granger leaned forward, his gaze holding James’. “I don't care to think they'll be punished for the rest of their lives by remaining unemployed and a burden to their families.”

“Agreed. Hopelessness takes a heavy toll. What types of assistance does your charity provide?” James was curious as he could name several men in his battalion who had lost a limb or worse, which made it difficult to return to farming or factory work.

“We work with several trades to help those who wish to learn new skills. Thus far those include cabinetmakers, masons, and bakers. Those former soldiers who are interested complete an apprenticeship of at least three months, sometimes six, depending on the level of difficulty and their own skills. Often they provide enough help to earn a modest wage during the apprenticeship.”

“Excellent.” James was pleased to think even a few men might be given a new