The carriage bounced and slowed as the rye caught in the wheels and bound around the axle. The French soldier closest to them followed, and his horse having fewer encumbrances, soon caught them. Passing the cart, he snatched the traces of their horse and pulled the lathered beast to a stop.

Breathing heavily, he railed at them from his saddle, cursing their parentage and their persons until his tirade broke off abruptly.

Jane became aware of the rustle and clop of more horses approaching through the rye. She dared look behind her to see what had produced such a look of alarm in the Frenchman.

Mr. Gilman rode through the rye, a group of redcoats at his back. ‘I should unhand them, were I you.’ He looked Vincent up and down, lifting his brows at his sorry state. ‘Well, Vincent, I am glad your wife cannot see you now. She would have my hide for abandoning you to the French army’s attentions.’

Vincent cleared his throat and clapped a hand on Jane’s shoulder. ‘This is my wife.’

Mr. Gilman’s eyes widened to a gratifying degree. He sketched a bow from the back of his horse. ‘Mrs. Vincent. Then I must thank you for your most uncommon gift of a glass lamb.’

On the ride back to Brussels, Mr. Gilman explained that Jane’s letter, which had accompanied the glass lamb, had been sufficient to spur the Duke of Wellington into action. Though Vincent was clearly in sore need of a physician and rest, he insisted on being taken at once to the British military headquarters. Under an elm, which cast a welcome shade upon a neat white military tent, His Grace, the Duke of Wellington received them and had his personal surgeon attend to Vincent’s wounds while he delivered his report. Around them, officers and aides-de-camp took notes as he spoke.

Jane sat on a camp chair next to him, still feeling the effects of her exertions. Her shoulders ached and her arms felt leaden. Both palms were raw from where the reins had cut into her hands. The cramp which had plagued her earlier came and went, coupled with nausea.

Vincent winced as the surgeon cleaned the wounds on his back, but did not stop his recital. ‘From what I was able to gather, your Grace, the French are planning on establishing their defences at Quatre Bras, then driving through into Waterloo and then Brussels. Lieutenant Segal had hoped to use the Sphère Obscurcie to lay in an ambush for your troops.’