Энни Бэрроуз – A Mistress For Major Bartlett (страница 1)
BRIDES OF WATERLOO
Meet Mary Endacott, a radical schoolmistress, Sarah Latymor, a darling of the
Three very different women united in a fight for their lives, their reputations and the men they love.
With war raging around them, the biggest battle these women face is protecting their hearts from three notorious soldiers …
Will Mary be able to resist Colonel Lord Randall? Find out in
Discover how pampered Lady Sarah handles rakish Major Bartlett in
What will happen when Major Flint helps Lady Catherine ‘Rose’ Tatton discover her past? Find out in
I was thrilled when Louise Allen and Sarah Mallory asked me if I’d be interested in working with them on a mini-series of stories to commemorate the two hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo.
I’ve mentioned this pivotal battle in a couple of my books before, but never actually taken any of my heroes or heroines to the battlefield itself.
My journey with
Over the next few months we spent hours e-mailing each other as we created the fictional unit known as Randall’s Rogues and shared pictures of what we thought our heroes should look like (all for the purposes of continuity, of course!). We even met up to double-check all those little details which ensured that our heroes and heroines could walk in and out of each other’s stories with ease.
If you’d like to see pictures of our day at Ickworth, or find out more about the background research for this series, you can visit our Facebook page: facebook.com/WaterlooBrides
A Mistress for Major Bartlett
Annie Burrows
ANNIE BURROWS has been writing Regency romances for Mills & Boon® since 2007. Her books have charmed readers worldwide, having been translated into nineteen different languages, and some have gone on to win the coveted Reviewers’ Choice Award from
For more information, or to contact the author, please visit annie-burrows.co.uk or you can find her on Facebook at facebook.com/AnnieBurrowsUK
To Louise Allen and Sarah Mallory.
It has been a great experience working with you two on this trilogy.
Contents
Sunday, 18th June
‘Limber up, fast as you can!’ Colonel Randall rode up to Major Bartlett and pointed to a spot to the rear. ‘We are heading to the ridge up yonder. You will recall we came in that way yesterday, past a place—what was it called?—Hougoumont. The French are massing their heavy cavalry between the château and the Charleroi road. Take up your position between the two infantry squares up there. And be quick about it!’
Major Bartlett kept his face impassive as he saluted. Quick? That was going to be a relative term given the sodden state of the ground.
‘Right, lads,’ he said, turning to his men. ‘You heard the Colonel.
The speed at which they turned the gun carriages and started ploughing their way across the field had much more to do with the shells exploding all around them, spraying them with mud, than willingness to obey their commanding officer. The sooner they got to higher ground, the sooner they could start inflicting some damage on the Frenchmen currently trying to blow them to kingdom come. Not that Major Bartlett had any complaints. He had a rather elastic attitude to obeying orders himself. In any other unit his tendency to interpret orders to suit himself would have got him up on a charge—indeed, had done so on several occasions. Only Colonel Randall had appreciated that his ability to think on his feet, rather than dumbly obeying orders, could be an advantage, taking him into his unit and giving him promotion.
Still, when he glanced across the ridge, and saw that his team had beaten Major Flint’s to reach their designated position, he felt a twinge of pride in his men. They’d worked with a swiftness and efficiency
Flint’s guns were ready to fire mere seconds after his own. Even Rawlins, who’d only been promoted a matter of days before, had his guns in position not long after. And just as well. The French cavalry were approaching at the trot.
The first salvo his men fired mowed down the leaders. But they kept coming. Big bastards. On big horses.
‘Dear lord, they’ll charge right over us!’
Major Bartlett whirled round. Had one of his own men dared say that?
‘Not Randall’s Rogues, they won’t,’ he snarled. ‘Remember our motto—always victorious!’ By any means. Particularly when sent behind enemy lines, where his, and his men’s, talents for causing mayhem had so often been given free rein.
‘Aye,’ roared Randall, drawing his sword and holding it aloft. ‘
The guns roared again. Horses and men fell. Smoke swirled round the scene, blotting out the sight of the dead and dying, though Bartlett could still hear their screams and groans.