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Though she’d taken to her bed more to avoid further discussion than from fatigue, Jenna Montague must have been more tired than she’d thought. After falling asleep moments after she laid her head on the pillow, she’d roused that evening only when Sancha insisted she eat the bowl of soup her maid brought to the room, and then slept much later than usual the next morning. When she dressed and left her chamber, the sun was high in the sky and Sancha, humming in the kitchen, the only other person in the house.

Trouble within the walls at Badajoz, Sancha informed her darkly when she inquired after the soldiers’ whereabouts. Given the severity of the disturbances, and with Jenna supposedly to wed Major Garrett Fairchild and therefore not requiring her assistance in preparing to leave Spain, Colonel Anderson’s wife had requested Garrett escort her back to her husband’s regiment. After that, the major had told Sancha he meant to assist in quelling the rioting inside the city.

Thankful for the respite in which she would not have to fend off Mrs. Anderson’s questions about her supposedly impending nuptials, Jenna settled at the table with a steaming cup of coffee. She’d spend these unexpected private moments marshaling arguments compelling enough to convince Garrett that a marriage between the two of them would be a mistake.

Wistfully wondering whether she was likely to feel more wretched if she succeeded in driving Garrett away - or if she succumbed to the temptation of becoming his wife, Jenna hadn’t made much progress on that endeavor when, with a stamp of boots, an officer entered the room. Her welcoming smile dimmed when she found the newcomer to be Lieutenant Lord Anthony Nelthorpe.

“My lord,” she said with a cool nod. Please, heaven, let him merely help himself to coffee and depart. Should he begin to needle her about her upcoming nuptials, Jenna wasn’t sure she could remain polite.

To her surprise, he greeted her without his normal mocking smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Montague, but I fear we have need of your services.”

Given the events of the past day - and the sporadic rifle fire that continued to echo over the walls - alarm shocked through her. “No one else has been -“ she cried, not even able to complete the sentence.

“No,” he interrupted, his sharp, knowing look making her face heat. “Your esteemed brigade major and my other compatriots are well. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for many of the denizens of Badajoz. Particularly, it grieves me to inform you, the female inhabitants.”

He didn’t need to spell out the details. With a spurt of anger at the bestiality of which man was capable and a deep compassion for helpless female victims everywhere, Jenna closed her eyes and uttered a swift prayer.

She opened them again and asked, “How can I help?”

“A number of officers are attempting to restore order, and the gallows now being erected should bring the madness to a halt. Some of the injured women are being moved into the abandoned monastery off the Lisbon road. As you can imagine, many of the ladies are…leery of dealing with soldiers. Major Fairchild asked if you would go assist in nursing them.”

“Of course.” Lord Anthony nodded. “I’m to escort you. With the stragglers still on the loose, Garrett didn’t want you traveling alone.”

Jenna rose as she spoke. “I’ll get my bag of supplies at once.”

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