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E llen turned to see Lord Colburne ride up with his wife.

“Your eyes are as keen as ever, Colburne.” He reached out to shake Lord Colburne’s hand. “And don’t tell me this is the beauty you duped into marrying you?”

“The one and the same,” Colburne said with a laugh. “My dear, Lord Pennyston is an old school friend of mine.”

Diana nodded to him, smiling. “It’s a pleasure, my lord. And Ellen, how lovely to see you too. I have to say I got the better end of this deal, my lord. I married a wonderful man, and I convinced him to ride a horse.”

“Do you not ride?” Lord Pennyston asked his friend.

“Did you ever see me on horseback when we were at school?” Lord Colburne asked.

Lord Pennyston looked off into the distance for a moment and then back to his friend. “No, I can’t say I ever did.”

“Terrified of the animals,” Lord Colburne admitted.

“Well, you are doing an admirable job for someone so scared,” Ellen commented. “Diana, I assume this is your doing. Have you been giving him lessons?”

“Oh, he knew how to ride, he simply hated doing so,” Diana told them.

“Lady Colburne is a renown racer of horses,” Ellen told Lord Pennyston.

“Really?”

“Well, I don’t know about renown—” Diana hedged.

“She has raced all over France and Germany,” Ellen told him.

“That is impressive,” Lord Pennyston said.

“She is truly amazing, but much more so for having gotten me on horseback. That being said, we do need to move off, I’m afraid.” Lord Colburne waved to another gentleman who was shouting at them to stop blocking traffic.

“Yes, I think we do as well. It was lovely meeting you, my lady.” Lord Pennyston did his trick with his hat once again and then clicked his horse into motion.

~*~

Ellen returned home later with a wonderfully mixed feeling of relief—that no one had said a word or reacted in any way to Lord Pennyston’s scar—and elation at having spent such a lovely afternoon with a handsome and charming gentleman.

“You are positively glowing,” Aunt Amelia said with a crack of laughter after Ellen joined her in the drawing room for tea.

Ellen put a hand to her cheek. “Am I? I have to admit, I am happy.”

“Did you just return from your drive with Lord Pennyston?”

“I did.” Ellen sat on the chair opposite her aunt and helped herself to a cup of tea. When she looked up again, Aunt Amelia was staring at her, clearly waiting for more details. Ellen laughed. “We had a wonderful time. We met Lady St. Vincent and her twin sister, Lady Conway. They were riding with Miss Sherman and Miss Lemaire. And we met Lord and Lady Colburne.” She paused to take a sip of her tea. It was cold, but she didn’t mind. “And would you believe, not one person—not one!—mentioned or reacted in any way to Lord Pennyston’s scar?”

“Well, I should think not! That would be beyond rude,” Aunt Amelia said. She reached out and took a biscuit.

“I know, but even then, people do react even if they don’t mean to,” Ellen said.

Aunt Amelia just shrugged. “It’s not as bad as I think he believes it to be.”

“I completely agree, but it was still very nice seeing this and witnessing his reaction to the fact that others didn’t react to him.”

“And I suppose he was all that was charming?” Aunt Amelia asked.

Before Ellen could answer her, there was a knock on the door, and the footman came in. “The afternoon post has just arrived, my lady,” he said, coming forward with a small pile of letters on a salver. He didn’t usually deliver the post in the afternoon, but there were an unusual number of letters. Perhaps he felt it important to do so because of that.

“Thank you, Frank,” Ellen said, taking the small stack of envelopes he offered. She looked through them with only half an eye. She was still thinking of Lord Pennyston, wondering how much to divulge to Aunt Amelia.

A letter caught her attention. It wasn’t the usual invitation and the handwriting… Ellen swallowed hard and shook her head. No, she must be mistaken. That wasn’t possible.

“You’ve suddenly turned very pale. What is it?” Aunt Amelia asked.

Ellen pulled the letter out. “I… I don’t know. It looks like Richard’s handwriting, but… but that can’t be.”

Amelia jumped up and took the letter from her. After examining it closely, she handed it back saying, “Well, the only way to know is to open it.”

Ellen wasn’t certain she wanted to. It was too odd. She felt strange—cold and shaky—just looking at it. “I don’t want to.”

Amelia tsked her tongue and grabbed the letter back. She opened it and scanned through the page. She dropped into the chair next to Ellen and handed it back to her. “You read it. You… you need to read it.”

Now she really and truly didn’t want to. She could smell it. She could smell Richard. It was from him. She knew it. She took in a deep breath and lowered her eyes to the letter.

“ My dear Ellen ,” it started. It continued as if it were the most ordinary letter in the world and they’d been corresponding for some time—until she got to the more interesting part.

“ I am aware I’ve been gone for some time—three years to be precise—but I have an explanation. After the battle in Vienna, I was wounded—a head wound. A local elderly couple took me in and nursed me back to health. They have been so kind to me, you would not believe. I have always felt myself fortunate to have such loving parents, but Hanz and Griselda have been beyond compassionate. They have cared for me as if I were their very own son. In return, I have done what I could to ease their life. Considering that I owe them my life, I felt that a little manual labor was a small price to pay.

I have been fully recovered for some time but decided to stay on with my foster parents. They have been so kind and living here is simple, full of joy and hard work. I have so enjoyed the life I have created for myself, but I recognize I still have responsibilities back in England. Well, to be honest, it was Hanz who reminded me and insisted I return to take care of what I must.

You are, of course, number one on my list of what must be taken care of. I’m certain by now you have moved on, as well you should. Considering that ours was truly a marriage of convenience, I am writing to ask for a dissolution of our marriage. It is not something I ask for lightly, but one which I believe will make life easier for both of us.

Think about it, and we shall discuss it in person when I arrive. I post this letter and will immediately commence on my journey back to England. Hopefully, the letter will arrive before I do.

I am most sincerely, etc.

Richard Moreton

Ellen couldn’t believe it. She looked up at Aunt Amelia. “He’s alive. He’s alive! And has been living with an older couple and working. Working!”

“He didn’t think to come home?” Amelia asked, shaking her head in wonder. “He didn’t think to write before now?”

“He’s been enjoying his life, so he says. I just… I can’t believe… why would he do this?”

“There must be a woman.”

“Maybe there is, but if so, he doesn’t mention her.” Ellen looked down at the letter, re-reading snatches of it. She shook her head. “He wants to end our marriage.”

“Well… what do you want?”

“I don’t know. How could I possibly…” Ellen could only shake her head. She had finally put off her mourning clothes. She had finally decided to live her life… and now this! What had she done to deserve this?

“I’ve tried…” She dropped her head into her hand, cradling her cheek. “I’ve tried to be a good person. I’ve taken care of those who were in need. I’ve… I’ve done what I should.” She lifted her head again and looked at Amelia. “Why would he do this to me?”

“Clearly, someone is playing some sort of game at your expense.”

“I don’t know. This is his handwriting,” she said, looking at the letter again. “And he says he will be here soon. It’s got to be real. But why?”

Amelia reached out and patted Ellen’s arm consolingly. “I don’t know what to tell you, my girl. You’ll have to see what he says when he gets here. And, well, decide whether you want to stay married to him or not. What about your Lord Pennyston?”

Ellen could only close her eyes against the thought. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Amelia rubbed her back. “All right. It’s going to be fine, Ellen. You’ll figure this out.”

It was a nice thing to say, but she had no idea how she would deal with her husband coming back to life.

~*~

Christopher was sitting in his darkened corner at Powell’s, enjoying the quiet mumble of men’s voices and thinking over the events of the past few days. He still could hardly believe how his life had changed in just the past week. Two outings with Lady Moreton… two very, very pleasant outings.

When he closed his eyes at night, he could still taste her on his lips, smell her floral perfume, feel the heat of her soft curves against him. It was almost enough to drive a man mad—especially one who had been celibate for as long as he.

He gave himself a shake and recalled himself to his surroundings. Powell’s. An excellent club with a good atmosphere and superb rum. And slowly wandering toward him was Archer Fitzwalter.

The man was glancing around, but he hadn’t seen Christopher yet. Well, that was about to change because Christopher had some exceptional news to share with the young soldier turned businessman.

Fitzwalter had moved to return to the front of the room when Christopher tapped on his shoulder. “Mr. Fitzwalter, you wouldn’t happen to be looking for investors in your business venture, would you?”

Fitzwalter gave him a polite smile, probably embarrassed that he was, in essence, trolling for money. “I’m afraid so.”

“Well, look no more.” Christopher held out his hand.

Fitzwalter took it, his eyes widening. "You? You were able to dispose of your building?"

“I was. My solicitor informed me this very afternoon. He has a buyer.”

"Well, this calls for a celebration!" Fitzwalter said, pumping Christopher's hand even harder. He indicated a couple of empty chairs near the wall, pausing to speak momentarily to a footman.

They moved in that direction, but Fitzwalter could hardly sit still. He was like a child being forced to act like an adult when all he wanted was to go running outside. He perched at the very edge of the chair. "Tell me about it! Did you get the price you were expecting?"

"The details aren't hashed out yet," Christopher admitted. "But there's a buyer and he's very interested. My man said the deal was as good as done."

"All right, then! We'll count it as done."

The footman delivered a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Lord Wickford oversaw the opening of the bottle. "Is this a celebration? Good news?" he asked.

"I have my last investor," Fitzwalter told him.

"Congratulations! Lord Pennyston, is it you?" Lord Wickford asked.

"Yes. I managed to sell a building I inherited years ago. I'll be investing in Fitzwalter's brilliant idea as soon as I get the funds," Christopher told him. He lifted his glass. "To Fitzwalter's spice business."

Fitzwalter lifted his as well. "Thank you. And to you, for choosing to invest so wisely."

"Now, I suppose you'll be able to return to India and get this idea off the ground," Wickford said, still smiling at Fitzwalter.

"Yes." Oddly, the man’s smile faltered a touch. He seemed to force it back onto his face, but it wasn’t the same. He was clearly thinking of something else. Could it be that he didn’t actually want to return to India? That would be very unusual—and not a little disturbing to his newest investor.

Fitzwalter put his glass down. He had become distinctly pale.

"Everything all right?" Wickford asked also noticing the man’s sudden pallor.

“Yes, yes, of course," Fitzwalter said quickly.

"There was some talk about you and Miss Benton," Wickford started. "But I suppose you were just enjoying yourself while trying to find your funding. She does know that you'll be leaving, doesn't she?"

"Er..." Fitzwalter stammered.

Ah, so that was it. There was a young lady involved. Things began to make sense.

"Don't tell me you didn't tell her that you were only here for a short time?" Wickford asked with a slight frown.

Fitzwalter seemed to shrink ever so slightly. "I... er... I shall do so. I'm certain she'll understand. I, um, I believe she was most interested in that natural scientist, er, Crome, I think his name is," the man said. He stared off in the distance for a moment before suddenly standing. "I'm terribly sorry, I seem to be feeling a little unwell. Please, do excuse me." He paused and turned to Christopher. "We shall meet very soon to discuss particulars."

"Very good. I hope you feel better," Christopher nodded.

"I'm sure I will. Thank you. Good evening." He strode out of the room quickly.

“That doesn’t bode well,” Wickford said, taking Fitzwalter’s seat.

“No. I do hope the young lady in question isn’t about to get a terrible surprise,” Christopher said, still looking after Fitzwalter.

“As do I. She’s a very sweet girl, Miss Benton. Lady Sorrell’s younger sister, you know.”

“Er, no, I don’t know. I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting either one,” Christopher admitted.

“Oh, right, right. Sorry, I forgot you haven’t been to many social functions.”

“Or any,” Christopher admitted.

“Any?” Wickford sounded shocked.

Christopher could only shrug. “I took Lady Moreton for a drive in the park today,” he told Wickford.

The man nodded as a grin slowly grew on his face. “And you’re sitting here rather than in your corner.”