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expense—because the laws over there
were far more lenient towards men of his stamp.
    ‘I, too,’ he said with a curl to his lip, ‘have male relatives
who care for nothing but their own pleasure. And they have left me with the
unenviable task of cleaning up the mess they’ve created. Though it is far from
being what I would wish to do at this juncture in my life, now that I have
become a viscount I have had to resign my commission and embark on a hunt for a
wife.’
    ‘That’s silly. I mean, there’s absolutely no need to resign
your commission just because your family is putting pressure on you to marry.
Plenty of officers with titles marry, and even take their wives on campaign with
them. And I should have thought that our country is in particular need of every
experienced officer it can get if we are to keep Bonaparte from rampaging all
over Europe again.’
    ‘That was exactly what I said to my grandfather when he
insisted I sold out!’
    It was extraordinary to hear her voice his own objections with
almost the same vehemence as he’d felt when his grandfather had banged his fist
on the desk, his face turning purple with rage as he’d bawled, ‘I want you
married and setting up your nursery without delay. I let your father persuade me
that Mortimer needed time to make his own choice. Hah! See where that got me! Chased every skirt in the neighbourhood
and told me to my face he was enjoying himself too much to settle down. Well, I
shan’t make the same mistake with you! Either get yourself to Town and pick a
bride, or I shall pick one for you.’
    He shot Lady Jayne a wry smile. ‘But after a
lengthy…discussion…’ the details of which he would never reveal to a living soul
‘…I realized that even though, as you correctly state, England does need
experienced officers, Wellington himself would agree that the preservation of an
old and distinguished family is of at least equal importance as trouncing the
Corsican tyrant.’
    He paused, gripping the handle of his cane so hard she wondered
he did not snap the head clean off.
    ‘My grandfather is old,’ he said eventually, ‘and, though he
won’t admit it, not in the best of health. Over the last year he has suffered a
series of nasty shocks. You probably know that both my father and then my older
brother suffered fatal accidents within months of each other. He has become
seriously concerned about the continuation of our family line. And, as he so
pithily put it, anyone can lead troops into battle, but I am the last hope of
the Cathcart family.’
    His stomach swooped into the same knot as it had done that day,
when he’d seen his entire life’s achievements brushed aside as being of no
consequence. For a moment the demons that had plagued his childhood had come
swarming back. The demons that had insisted he was of no intrinsic worth. How
could he be, when even his own parents did their best to ignore his very
existence, whilst pampering and coddling his brothers?
    But then he’d remembered that, in spite of what his grandfather
had said about anyone being able to lead troops into
battle, there was a damned sight more to being an officer than he knew. Earning
the men’s respect, for one thing, was no sinecure. The majority of them came
from the gutters, and had a natural distrust of anyone who represented
authority. But they’d learned to trust him with their lives. Depended on
decisions he’d made for their very survival. And, more than that, he’d
maintained their morale—even when times were at their toughest.
    The demons had fled, whimpering, as he’d drawn on all the
self-confidence he’d acquired during the eleven years he’d served in the army.
Eleven years during which he’d grown from a diffident boy into a seasoned
veteran.
    His grandfather had implied that his only function in life was
to father the next generation. But, by God, he was going to do more than that.
If he could organize a regiment, then he could damn well learn to