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British troops.
    As their commanding officer, their shabbiness and lack of discipline was his fault. He had let them get into this state of moribund boredom, verging on despair. Indeed, he’d fallen into it himself for some time, before Beatrice’s letters had awakened him to a new sense of purpose, a new sense of belonging.
    Starting from today, it was all going to change. Whatever the merits of the conflict in the Transvaal—and of late he had begun to wonder just how justified England’s position was—he was going to live to return to England.
     
     
    Beatrice kicked off her shoes and stockings and lowered her feet into a basin of steaming water. Though it was midsummer, the weather was cool enough to make a warm footbath a lovely treat. Lenora was working nights again, leaving her with a few evenings to herself.
    She reached into her pocket and drew out the letter that had arrived in the late post. Their lodgings had turned into a hive of activity for the Royal Mail: letters were received there almost every day for one or other of them. An envelope with a foreign postmark was no longer a curiosity to be wondered over by the whole house, but could be enjoyed by the recipient in secret.
    Bronkhorstspruit, Transvaal, June 1880
     
    Dearest Beatrice ,
    How wonderful to receive your letter, just to think of summer back home warms my spirits. We’ve moved into winter here, and the nights are bitingly cold under our thin blankets. Even with all my clothes on, I lie on my stretcher and shiver all night with only your letters to keep me warm.
    Especially your postscript, so forward you were. But not too forward, be assured I do not think less of you. I confess I did blush a bit when I first read it, although after some thought I imagine seeing your womanly form would definitely be rather nice. I like such directness in circumstances such as mine, and I hope that you do as well.
    But I shan’t complain of the cold too much, for despite the conditions under which we live there is still plenty of wonder in the world to raise a man’s spirits. One of the most striking sights to behold in this dusty country is the night sky. When there is no moon the sky is the blackest of black from horizon to horizon, but there are so many stars blazing with a steady light. In some places they are so closely packed that they are like talc carelessly spilt over a mahogany sideboard. What it would be to have you at my side. We could stay close, warming each other while we talk of inconsequential things and let the world carry on without us.
    You write in your letter the male body is one of God’s most beautiful creations. Naturally I would differ, and venture to say the female form, with its soft curves and enticing scents, is surely the epitome of creation.
    And with that thought in my head I shall try to sleep. I sincerely hope you have the time and inclination to reply, and if you do, please be bold! Cast aside social graces and write the things you want to write. I promise to do the same if you are agreeable.
    All my heart ,
Percy
     
     
    Folding up the letter again, she tossed it onto her desk. He certainly had a silver tongue, did this soldier of hers. His letters gave her a window into another life, into his thoughts.
    She wiggled her toes in the warm water and hummed a popular romantic ballad under her breath. There was hardly a romantic bone in her body, but something about the captain’s missives made her think quite longingly of love and romance.
     
     
    The heat of the afternoon sun was at its peak when Captain Carterton and his men returned to the parade ground after their midday meal. The white cork hat kept the worst of the sun off the captain’s face, but he could still feel the harsh rays burning his fair skin. Even though a year in South Africa had tanned his face a few shades of brown darker than normal, the fierce sun still had the power to burn his skin to a crisp.
    He had his men set up targets at the far end of the