She grasped his hand as it lay on the coverlet and raised it to her cheek. ‘Yes, Bertie. I’ve come to take you home.’

‘Where’s Wolfe? He’s usually here with me.’

‘Wolfe? Who is that, Bertie?’

‘My soldier servant. He’s carried me through this, quite literally. I’m a cripple, Rosie. I was shot in the back and I’m paralysed from the waist down.’

Rosalind went down on her knees beside the bed. ‘Oh, Bertie, I’m so sorry. Are you in much pain?’

He laughed, but it was a hollow sound. ‘I can’t feel a thing, that’s the trouble. The army surgeons say I’ll never walk again.’

Rosalind choked back tears. Why did such a dreadful fate befall someone like Bertie, who had always been so active? ‘That’s dreadful. I don’t know what to say.’

He squeezed her fingers. ‘You’re here. That’s all that matters. I’ll try not to be a burden to you and Piers.’

‘You’ll never be that, Bertie. You are Sir Bertram Carey and Rockwood is yours. When you are fully recovered you will run the estate and I’ll be there to help you.’

Bertie grinned ruefully. ‘What will Piers say to that?’

‘It’s a long story, Bertie, but Piers has gone away and he won’t be home for a very long time.’ Rosalind rose to her feet as the door opened and a giant of a man with a scarred face and a patch over one eye stomped into the room.

‘What’s going on? Who are you, lady?’

‘Wolfe, mind your manners,’ Bertie said sharply. ‘This is my sister, Mrs Blanchard. She’s come to take me home.’

‘You must have written the letter to me,’ Rosalind said, smiling. ‘I’m very grateful to you for taking such good care of my brother. It must have been a very difficult journey all the way from the Crimean Peninsula.’

‘Aye, it was. But you came here quick enough. I’ll grant you that, ma’am.’

‘We travelled through the night, and we’re ready to leave when the horses are rested.’

‘Did anyone accompany you, Rosie?’ Bertie beckoned to Wolfe. ‘Prop me up, there’s a good fellow.’

Wolfe obeyed with surprising gentleness, even going so far as to plump up the pillows to ensure Bertie’s comfort.

‘I don’t want to tire you,’ Rosalind said anxiously. ‘Alexander came with me and my maid Fletcher.’

‘I spotted a cove in a smart suit with an old crow of a woman dressed in black. If looks could kill I’d be stone dead.’

‘Fletcher is all right.’ Rosalind stifled a nervous giggle. It seemed ludicrous that a ferocious-looking man like Wolfe would be scared of a woman half his size. ‘She’s my maid and she came with us to see if she could help, but I see that you have all the assistance you need, Bertie.’