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Chapter 6

They sat in companionable silence for a while as they drank the tea and Simpson ate the cake until Oliver nodded at Simpson’s leg.

“You have a bad limp. What happened?”

Simpson wiped his mouth with a napkin and laid it on the table. “I was wounded at Waterloo.”

“After you got me out?”

“No, before. To this day I don’t know how I managed to get you to the medical tent.”

“Good God,” Oliver gasped, staring at the man. “How on earth did you manage? What happened afterwards? I was unconscious for some time and when I came around you were gone.”

“I got you to safety and apparently passed out. I woke up with a sawbones thinking about amputating my leg.”

“Christ.”

“I…ah…dissuaded him.”

Oliver stared at him and then they both laughed. “I was out for weeks,” he said. “They patched me up and dispatched me back. I must admit, my leg isn’t the best.”

A short silence fell.

“So do you live alone?” Simpson said, changing the subject. “I seem to recall your old man pressing you to marry.”