A/N: Izzy, just for you, I threw in an extra part. Ha! This time I added to it!

The men had already made it to camp by the time Constance returned at dusk. They were all miserable and in the mood to get drunk. There seemed to be a pattern of sullenness in the dragoons, revolving all around Colonel Tavington. He was Hell-bent on his missions, but no one else shared his enthusiasm, and therefore, they were never happy. Never. Even the "Tavington effect" was starting to take its toll on chipper Lieutenant Fife. He was moody and only greeted Constance with a grunt as he went by.

Constance needed to talk to someone now that she had an equal animosity directed toward the Ghost. She strode into the mess tent and looked around. Fife was brooding in a corner and probably would not be the greatest to converse with at the moment. Wilkins was staring at her, but not at her face. She pulled her fichu closer together and walked by him without making any eye contact. Frustrated, she turned for the entry. She stormed out, muttering, and bumped into someone.

"Oh, sorry," she grumbled, stepping to the side.

"Miss Tavington?" It was Bordon. He took hold of her wrist.

"Captain Bordon—oh, I'm so sorry. I was not paying attention."

He smiled. "I could tell. Are you all right?"

"You know what, I am not all right. I'm quite angry, really." Constance stood erect and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm angry with a variety of people, ranging from my brother, to a bunch of deluded yokels, to Wilkins, to you, John, to—"

"Whoa, Constance—why me, if I may be so bold?" He was hurt, but there was a note of defensiveness in his voice.

"Why are all of you men so strange?" she snapped. "What did you mean the other day by kis—"

He put a hand over her mouth, face dark. "Let us discuss this in private." Bordon led her away to his quarters and lit a candle. "All right now, what is your problem?"

"What in Hell did you kiss me for? You did it right in front of everyone, open as you please! Why, and what for? Are you trying to prove a point? And how do you know that I am Joseph?"

The captain drew himself up rigidly. "I will start with the last question. Your brother thinks I'm a buffoon, and I don't need you to believe it too. It's simple, Constance. Your voice and Joseph's voice are exactly the same. And I thought it funny how Joseph leaves to go carry papers for the colonel, and you just show up. Then I remember the colonel does not trust a single one of us and always carries his own papers to the general. Besides, how many cousins look exactly the same? Well perhaps in the colonies they do, but when you are plainly English..."

"All right, fine. Why hasn't anyone else figured it out?"

"I can't say, but until they see it, your secret is perfectly safe."

"Now, the kiss?"

He blanched and was not so bold any more. "Because, I, uh…. You betrayed me, but for the best."

"Huhn?" She peered clinically at him, entirely lost to his train of thought.

Captain Bordon regained composure and said solidly: "Joseph was my friend, my good friend. I loved him as friends do because he didn't treat me like I was lower than dirt, like everyone else. You, as you, show up and you were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but the colonel's sister, so there was no way I'd be even able to look at you. You charmed me, you were kind to me, and I adored you. You stood up for me, however minute it may have been to you, to your own brother and I wanted to nothing but kiss you for it.

"But then, I remembered. Constance and Joseph Carleton are one and the same. That only made me desire you more. And then Fife shows up and threatens every chance I may ever have! I saw you giggling on his arm at the Middleton ball and I panicked. Later, he and I were discussing you. He said to me, even though he sweats for you too, that if I was drawn to you, I should let you know it. So, that's why I kissed you the next day. I could have, and likely should have, expressed my affection some other way, but at the moment, it seemed like a good idea."

Constance nodded. "So, you've had this platonic love for me for how long?"

"From the moment I knew that the two people I loved most in the world were the same."

She began to pace, chewing on her little finger in anxiety. This was strange, sudden information to process. To just brush this aside and forget it all was a difficult task. Some women are cruel and can just laugh in the face of lovers, but I'm not that mean. I forgave my stupid brother when he practically stated he was going to auction me off after all, didn't I? she thought. Her brows furrowed and darkened, released, then clenched again. Constance was expecting Fife to barge in, as he seemed to have a tendency to do so, and begin kowtowing and begging for her hand in marriage.

No, only Bordon was there, waiting for her judgement in agonized silence.

"You know, my brother would have a fit if he knew I was here, alone in your tent with you," she said finally with a strange smile.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he moaned, throwing up his hands. "You can never give anyone a clear answer, Constance!"

"What do you think it means?"

He glared at her, but then softened. "I hope that it means you will accept me. What you really mean, I have not the faintest semblance of an idea."

"You have won me, I guess, but you cannot have me, John Bordon," she smiled, extending her hand. "You're a good man, and the only one who has respected me yet so far." The woman became suddenly serious. "If your treatment of me resembles that of Wilkins at all, do not expect me to ever even look at you again. Those are my only conditions."

Bordon took her in his arms and held her close to him. "I would go to Hell or any where else you would wish, Constance." He kissed her forehead.

"John?" Fife's voice implored from the entrance. Ha! You're late, Constance thought.

"Yes, Tobias?" the captain answered. "Come in."

"I was just—hey…it worked, eh?" He pointed at Constance, who had arched her arms around her admirer's neck. Fife's face became flat and expressionless layered atop of the already present symptoms of the "Tavington effect."

Bordon's eyes were wide and somewhat ashamed again. "Yes, I guess it did."

"Well then, good for you," the lieutenant said curtly. "I'm sorry, Miss Tavington, but I have to speak with Captain Bordon here. Privately."

She nodded and slipped from the captain. Fife inclined toward her for a moment before facing the captain. Constance glanced back at them before leaving the tent. She was afraid of what was about to transpire in there.

Constance found that the mess tent had nearly cleared out and, as it was well lit, went there to read. Did not want Will to launch into a conniption fit because she used his lamp oil…. There were a few dragoons in there, chatting in low tones, but they did not bother her in the least. After some time, they got up and left. Constance read in peace for some time until a large man sat himself down opposite her.

"'Ey."

"Pardon?" Constance lifted her eyes from the page. "Ugh, Captain Wilkins, please leave me in peace to read my book. I've been meaning to finish it for a while."

"I want to talk to you."

"Well, Captain, I don't wish to talk to you at the moment."

He was indignant. "And why's that? You're always mistreatin' me and ignorin' me. I only want you to pay me some attention."

"I do not like you. That is why, Captain Wilkins. Please, leave me alone."

Wilkins shook his head. He took her hand and held it so tightly that she could not jerk it away. Constance flailed her arm, trying to get him to release her.

"Let go of me!" She began to wince and whimper in his grip. "Please, let go of me!"

"Do you know how much I love you, Constance? You're so priddy…" he drawled, kissing her hand. He nibbled at one of her fingertips. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"That doesn't mean anything! I'm pretty, but I'm a real bitch! Let go of me, now." She continued to struggle against his hold, not matter how futile it was.

He chuckled. "I know that. But I want you still want you anyway. You'd make a good wife, once I got you settled down and behavin'."

"Damn it, James Wilkins, let go of me, or I you will answer to my brother. No, either way, you'll answer to my brother for this. However, he'd probably go easier on you if you would release me!" But he did not let loose her hand, and so she took up her book and began to beat him with it. Wilkins growled and launched himself over the table at her. The man pinned her down on the table and began to kiss her. His hand strayed to her breast. Constance fought under him, but he smothered her.

Salvation came in the form of a long, high-pitched shriek similar to that of a farmer calling pigs: "Ja-Jaaaaaaaaaaaaa-AMES! Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-AMES!" Whoever was yelling paused a moment, then continued. "Ja-Ja-Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-AMES!"

There was stifled snickering from outside, and a large frumpy looking woman in an obnoxious bright green dress burst into the tent. Her chubby features were set in shock to see her husband atop some strange redheaded girl. The woman seemed ready to explode out of her corset in several different places as she huffed in rage. Wilkins froze with his hand in Constance's cleavage.

"Madam, you must be sent by God!" Constance cried at the fat woman. "Get him off me!"

The woman glanced at Constance and gave a severe nod before puckering up her face in the most horrible variation of the look. She flew at Wilkins like a harpy. Constance's eyes widened in respectful awe. She fought to keep from laughing as the woman began to screech.

"So this is wha' ye're doin' now ye've gone frum home, eh?" she shrilled. "Or shoul' Ah say, who? Hmm? Ye leave me an' th' five chil'ren t' go an' fight yer war and ye attack sum poor girl instea' of th' en'my, eh? GeddoffahernowaforeAhcountt'three!*"

"Yes, Mrs. Wilkins. Of course, my dearest dear," Wilkins squeaked, sliding down from the table. "I've missed you, angel-sweets. Really, I have." Constance sat up.

She smacked him with a pudgy hand before grabbing hold of his ear. "Ye've better, ye bastard! Ain't sent us money t' stay fed an' wh'not! Think ye're th' big war hero, eh? Ah've had to fight t' feed those lil' bratsa yern!" Mrs. Wilkins carried on in a similar vein as she dragged her husband from the table.

"Missy, ye're a priddy girl. Keep 'way from roamin' tomcats like this'n! Ye won't end up like me!" She gave Constance stern nod and hauled her wailing husband from the tent by the lob of his ear.

Outside there were hoots of laughter. Constance collapsed back onto the table, choking with laughter. She would tell her brother what Wilkins had done, of course, but for the moment, she could not restrain her mirth.

* For those who couldn't read it, it says (in readable form): "Get off her now before I count to three!"

Next chapter: Fife is discovers the truth and the further misadventures of Wilkins

under the scrutiny of his wife.