Page 45 of The Hero

“Bristol did. As best he could under the circumstances,” he added heavily. “As I have said, the hair and structure of the body were similar to Plymouth’s, but the face— It was caved in, damaged beyond recognition.”

Harry frowned. “I thought you said he died from a sword being thrust into his chest?”

“He did,” Gideon confirmed. “But there was a charge of horse through those woods before the battle ended, and Bristol assumed the damage to Plymouth’s face was caused by his having been trampled on by a horse’s hoof.”

“You no longer think that?”

“There is no denying that the birthmark is not there.”

“Then where is Plymouth’s body?”

That, Gideon knew, was the question they all wished to find an answer to. “We have spent the past three weeks questioning any of the other members of our regiment who are still alive. All deny having seen anything untoward that day.”

Harry frowned. “You doubt my father saw those two men and the cart?”

“Not for a moment,” he stated unequivocally. “Nor do any of the other Ruthless Dukes or Robert Granger—I still refuse to call him Plymouth,” he acknowledged in a hard voice. “They, along with Granger, have now all traveled to the Continent with their wives to speak to the people living near Waterloo, and see if they remember the events of that day.”

Harry snorted, sure that all the people in the area of that momentous battle would remember how it laid waste to their homes and livelihood.

Even so, she felt sure such a journey would more than likely turn out to be nothing more than a wild-goose chase for those gentlemen and their duchesses. If no one else in the regiment saw anything untoward that day, then she doubted the local people, possibly having chosen to stay as far away from the fighting as possible, would have done so either.

A thought occurred to her. “Should you not have gone with them?”

Some of the tension eased from Gideon’s body. “Possibly, and I will do so. But I could not stay away from you for a day longer,” he admitted huskily. “It has felt as if I were missing an integral part of me these past three weeks. One that is necessary for me to be able to breathe.”

Harry’s heart swelled. “I have been absolutely desolate without you.”

Gideon lifted her chin as he turned to face her, the two of them now gazing into each other’s eyes. “With your permission, I will go downstairs and ask your father for your hand in marriage.”

“We will go down and ask him together,” she decided softly.

One of Gideon’s hands cupped the side of her face. “Do you wish for a big wedding?”

“I wish to accompany you to France.” She had every intention of being at Gideon’s side when he traveled to the Continent to help the other gentlemen and the duchesses search for what had become of their beloved friend and cousin, Plymouth.

Gideon chuckled. “I had thought if you accepted my proposal, that might be the case. Which is why I paid Prinny a visit before leaving London—the Prince Regent,” he explained at her puzzled expression.

“I know who he is,” she teased. “I am merely curious as to why you felt the need to see him before coming here.”

“To ask for a special license so that we can be married immediately and afterward travel to France together.”

“That sounds perfect.” Harry raised her head to kiss Gideon lingeringly on the lips. “You are perfect.”

“I somehow doubt that,” he drawled. “But once you are my wife, I will endeavor to be so.”

“I love you, Gideon.”

“I love you, my darling Harry.”

Harry had no idea what she had done to deserve having a man such as Gideon fall in love with her, but whatever it was she would cherish him, and their marriage, and any children they might have together, for the rest of their lives.