“Certainly. He’s my brother—or was.”
“What?” Germain and I exclaimed as one. He looked at me and giggled.
“I thought Hal was your only brother,” I said, recovering. I glanced back and forth between John and Percy. There was no resemblance at all between them, whereas John’s resemblance to Hal was as marked as if they’d been stamped from the same mold.
“Stepbrother,” John said, still more shortly. He got his feet under him, preparing to rise. “Come with me, Percy.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said, raising my voice slightly.
“How do you propose to stop me?” John was on his feet, staggering a little as he tried to focus his eyes. Before I could answer, Mr. Beauchamp had lunged forward and grabbed his arm, to keep him from falling. John jerked violently away from him, nearly falling again as he stumbled backward into the cot. He caught his balance and stood glowering at Beauchamp, his fists half clenched.
Beauchamp’s gaze was locked with his, and the air between them was . . . electric. Oh, I thought, glancing from one to the other, suddenly enlightened. Oh.
I must have made some small movement, because Beauchamp’s gaze flicked suddenly toward my face. He looked startled at whatever he saw there, then, recovering himself, smiled wryly and bowed.
“Madame,” he said. Then, in perfect, accentless English, “He is really my stepbrother, though we haven’t spoken in . . . some time. I am here as the guest of the Marquis de La Fayette—amongst other things. Do allow me to take his lordship to meet the marquis. I promise to bring him back in one piece.” He smiled at me, warm-eyed and sure of his charm, which was considerable.
“His lordship is a prisoner of war,” said a very dry Scottish voice from behind Beauchamp. “And my responsibility. I regret that he must remain here, sir.”
Percy Beauchamp whirled round, gaping at Jamie, who was filling the tent flap in a most implacable fashion.
“I still want to know what he wants with Papa,” Germain said, small blond brows drawn down in a suspicious glower.
“I should like to know that, too, monsieur,” Jamie said. He came into the tent, ducking, and nodded toward the stool I had been using. “Pray be seated, sir.”
Percy Beauchamp glanced from Jamie to Lord John and back again. His face had gone smooth and blank, though the lively dark eyes were full of calculation.
“Alas,” he said, the slight French accent back. “I am engaged to le marquis—and General Washington—just now. You will excuse me, I am sure. Bonjour, Mon Général.” He marched to the tent flap, head held high, turning at the last moment to smile at John. “Au revoir, mon frère.”
“Not if I bloody see you first.”
NOBODY MOVED FOR the space of nine heartbeats—I counted them—following Percy Beauchamp’s dignified exit. Finally, John sat down abruptly on the cot, exhaling audibly. Jamie caught my eye and, with a slight nod, sat down on the stool. Nobody spoke.
“You mustn’t hit him again, Grand-père,” Germain said earnestly, breaking the silence. “He’s a very good man, and I’m sure he won’t take Grannie to bed anymore, now that you’re home to do it.”
Jamie gave Germain a quelling look, but his mouth twitched. From my position behind the cot, I could see the back of John’s neck flush a deep pink.
“I’m much obliged to his lordship for his care of your grannie,” Jamie told Germain. “But if ye think makin’ impertinent remarks regarding your elders is going to save your arse—think again.”
Germain shifted uneasily, but rolled his eyes at Lord John in a “worth a try” sort of way.
“I’m obliged to you for your good opinion, sir,” John told him. “And I reciprocate the compliment—but I trust you are aware that good intent alone does not absolve one from the consequences of rash conduct.”
Jamie was beginning to flush as deeply as John.
“Germain,” I said. “Do go away. Oh—see if you can find me some honey, would you?”
All three of them looked at me, startled at this apparent non sequitur.
“It’s viscous,” I said, with a slight shrug. “And antibacterial.”
“Of course it is,” John said under his breath in a hopeless sort of way.
“What does ‘viscous’ mean?” Germain asked, interested.
“Germain,” said his grandfather, in a menacing tone, and he hastily disappeared without waiting for enlightenment.
Everyone took a deep breath.
“Lie down now,” I said to John, before anything regrettable might be said. “Have you got a moment, Jamie? I need someone to hold the mirror while I fix his eye.”
With no more than an instant’s hesitation, they both obeyed, not looking at each other. I was nearly ready; when I’d got Jamie positioned and the ray of light focused on the eye, I once more irrigated the eye and socket gently with saline solution, then rinsed my fingers thoroughly with the same stuff.
“I need you both to hold completely still,” I said. “I’m sorry, John, but there’s no other way to do this, and if we’re lucky, it will be quick.”
“Aye, I’ve heard that one before,” Jamie muttered, but desisted when I shot a sideways look at him.
I was afraid to use the forceps, for fear of puncturing his eyeball. So I spread the lids of John’s affected eye with the fingers of my left hand, wedged the fingertips of my right as deeply into the eye socket as I could, and squeezed.