The Valet Who Loved Me - Valerie Bowman Page 0,74

the odds were low that one of the prisoners was David, but there was always a chance.

She quietly made her way over to the tent and pressed her lips together before pushing the curtain back little more than an inch. The smell inside the tent made her press her wrist to her nose. The soldiers sat on the ground in the middle of the tent, their backs to her, their hands tied behind them. She nearly whimpered when she realized how filthy and torn their uniforms were.

Letting the curtain drop again, she made her way around to the side of the tent where she would be able to see their faces. No use alerting them to her presence until she had to.

Holding her breath with anticipation, she nudged the curtain aside just a bit to see the dirty, bloody, gagged faces of the two soldiers. Her breath expelled in a rush. Neither was David. Her chin dropped to her chest. She hadn’t realized until that moment that her entire body was shaking.

She forced herself to take another deep breath. Her first reaction had been relief, but now she realized how much she had hoped one of the men was David. Regardless, she wasn’t about to wait around for Beau to return. Instead, she slipped inside the tent, putting a finger to her lips to indicate to the two men to remain silent, while she made haste pulling the gags from one soldier’s mouth.

“Who are you?” he asked as soon as he was free.

“Suffice it to say I’m British,” she replied. “What is your name?”

“I’m Martin Bigsley-Brown,” the soldier replied.

“And what is your rank and unit?” she asked next.

“I’m a corporal with the ninth infantry.”

“The ninth infantry? Were you stationed in Paris?”

“Yes.”

“My brother is a captain in the ninth infantry. Captain David Ellsworth. Do you know him?”

The soldier’s eyes widened. “I do indeed. He was captured with us.”

Marianne was dizzy. Her chest felt tight as if it had been clamped in a vise. “Do you know if he’s here then?”

“I don’t know. I only know…” The man’s gaze immediately dropped.

“What? You must tell me.” She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

“They were killing officers when we first arrived,” he choked out.

She clenched her jaw and nodded. “If he was still alive, would he be in one of the other tents?”

The soldier shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

Marianne quickly moved behind the first soldier and began loosening the rope that tied his wrists together. “Thank you for your help,” she said. “I’m loosening this, but I won’t remove it. If we can, we’ll come back for you. If not, I want you to at least have a chance to fight. But stay here and don’t get in the way unless you decide to run for the treeline about twenty-five yards to the right of this tent.”

The soldier nodded and Marianne moved to the other soldier’s back. She loosened his wrists too before standing and dusting off her hands. “Stay quiet,” she warned before moving to the curtains and peering out to ensure the way was clear before she slipped through and left the tent.

Now that she knew her brother might be here, she fully intended to look for him before meeting back up with Beau.

She made her way to the next tent in the row and listened with her ear against the curtain for at least a minute before peering carefully inside. Empty.

The tent after that was even closer to where the boisterous music and laughing was coming from. After the scream earlier, the music and laughing had soon resumed and had continued since. Marianne could only hope that all of the tents’ occupants were busy drinking and singing near the bonfire.

The third tent was also silent, but this time when she pressed open the curtain an inch, she saw another British soldier. Just one this time. He sat in the center of the dirt floor, his hands tied behind him, a gag in his throat. He was facing her, but his head was bent in sleep, and his shaggy dark hair fell over his face.

He was wearing an officer’s uniform. Marianne’s heart began to thump in her chest.

Something familiar about him made her catch her breath. Was she only fearful and desperate, or could this man really be David?

Pushing open the curtain with sweating palms, she forced herself to silently approach him. She crouched in front of him and nudged him awake as gently as possible, not wanting