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C hristopher looked around. He was right! He had hardly even given it a thought at the time, but he was sitting with his back to the room but in the full light. No one was looking his way. No one had said a word, gasped, or had done anything that would have made Christopher aware that people were staring at him. Could it be that they weren’t? He looked back to Wickford.

The man was laughing at him. “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

“I didn’t!”

“And no one noticed you, either, or if they did, they didn’t say anything.”

Christopher could only shake his head in wonder.

“And when you took Lady Moreton out for your drive in the park?” Wickford asked.

“I met a number of young ladies, er, red-headed twins?” He couldn’t remember their names.

“Lady St. Vincent and Lady Conway,” Wickford supplied.

“Yes. They were riding with Miss Sherman, who I also met. And then later we met Colburne who was riding with his wife,” Christopher told him.

“And no one said a word, I imagine,” Wickford said, nodding.

“No. Not a gasp or a widened eye.”

“I am not surprised.” Wickford looked up toward a footman who was indicating that his presence was needed. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course.” Christopher sat back with his glass of champagne in full view of anyone who cared to look. He was stunned. Floored, really. How was it that no one seemed to be having trouble looking at his face when his own mother couldn’t even look at it? He just couldn’t fathom, but he was grateful. Shocked, but grateful.

~May 6~

When Amelia had been young and forced to make her debut into society, her mother had to force her to attend parties. She’d hated it. She hated getting dressed up. She hated being paraded around for men to look at and judge like a piece of horseflesh. She hated dancing. And most of all, she hated having to be sweet and charming to any male who deigned to smile at her.

And yet, here she was thirty years later, actually looking forward to attending a social gathering. She had no idea who the hostess was and really couldn’t care less. She wasn’t going to dance, and she wasn’t going to make nice to a bunch of men she didn’t know.

No. She was going for one purpose and one purpose only—to see Harry Sherman.

The poor thing had to attend all these ridiculous functions for his daughter who was in the market for a husband, and it did provide her with an easy, comfortable way to spend time with Harry. He could keep an eye on his little girl and chat and laugh with Amelia at the same time. It was quite lovely, actually.

“Good evening, Mrs. Rutledge,” Lady Ayres said as Amelia joined Ellen’s friends. She knew if she was there speaking with the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society, Mr. Sherman would be able to find her easily. It was a little trick they’d agreed upon. “Where is Lady Moreton this evening?”

Amelia had been looking around for Mr. Sherman, but suddenly realized she’d been asked a question. She turned and adopted a sad expression. “I’m afraid she was not feeling well. She is at home.”

“Oh dear! I do hope it’s nothing serious,” Lady Ayres said.

“I just saw her yesterday, and she seemed fine,” Lady Colburne commented, turning to take part in the conversation.

“She received some rather disturbing news yesterday afternoon.” Amelia shook her head. She, herself, could hardly imagine what poor Ellen was going through—to have her husband suddenly return from the “dead” after three years. And it wasn’t even as if he had written to inform her of his triumphant return so they could resume their lives together. No, he’d written to ask for an annulment! But Amelia couldn’t say a word of this to Ellen’s friends. It just wasn’t her place.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Lady Ayres said.

“I wonder… perhaps I’ll call on her tomorrow to see if she’s all right,” Lady Colburne said.

“That is exceedingly kind of you. I don’t know that it’s necessary, however. I’m sure she’ll figure things out. She just needs some time to think,” Amelia told them. She didn’t know whether Ellen wanted to share her troubles with her friends. To be honest, she didn’t know how close her niece was to these women—and strangely enough, Amelia had begun to think of Ellen as her niece, rather than her nephew’s wife. She’d grown quite fond of the girl.

“Good evening, ladies,” Mr. Sherman said, joining them. He had smiles for everyone, but for Amelia he had a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, good evening, Mr. Sherman,” the two women said.

“Is Miss Sherman here?” Lady Colburne asked. Being younger, of course, she was closer friends with his daughter.

“I believe she is already surrounded by admirers,” Mr. Sherman said with a laugh and a nod to where his daughter stood, speaking to some gentlemen.

Lady Colburne laughed. “Of course she is.”

“But I’m afraid I’m going to be horribly rude, ladies, and steal Mrs. Rutledge away from you. If you wouldn’t mind, Madam?” he asked, looking to Amelia.

“Not at all.” Amelia took his arm and then nodded to the ladies as they walked off.

“You were not at all affected by our little escapade a few days ago, were you?” he asked with a little laugh. “You look stunning as always.”

Amelia smiled. “I hate to admit this, but I could hardly move yesterday morning. I slept in for the first time in years.”

“Ah, so you are human after all!”

“All too human and too old to be racing to Bath and back, apparently.” Amelia laughed and shook her head.

“Certainly not too old, but maybe we shouldn’t do so too often?”

“It’s a deal,” she agreed. She also noticed that he had managed to walk her straight out of the ballroom and into the garden where it was quiet and rather secluded. “Mr. Sherman, why is it that we are outside? You cannot keep an eye on your daughter from here, you know.”

His smile had her insides turning to mush. “She’ll be all right for a little while without me. And really, after the other day, I do think you should call me by my given name.”

“My, how deliciously intimate,” she said with a giggle. Wait, Amelia Rutledge did not giggle! But, goodness gracious, she just had, hadn’t she? What in the world was this man doing to her?

“Ah, but I have plans for even more intimacy, my dear Amelia.” His voice was a low growl that sent chills of excitement through her.

She drew back, pretending shock. “Why, Mr. Sherman, I should be horrified! Shocked! Appalled!”

He laughed. “But you’re not, are you?”

“Well, no. I’m quite intrigued instead. Tell me more.”

“I would like to kiss you,” he informed her. “And then I would like… well, I haven’t yet decided what I would like to buy you, but I would like to get you a gift. Something grand. Something fantastic. What shall I get you?”

“I’d like that kiss.”

He nodded. “Then you shall have it.”

And to her surprise she did. His warm lips came down upon hers with a gentle force. It had clearly been some time since he had kissed anyone, but he seemed to remember how it was done pretty quickly. Oh yes, he remembered quite well. Well enough to curl Amelia’s toes.

She wound her arms around his neck, thoroughly enjoying the warm sensations of being so close, so intimate, with a man again. It seemed like ages since her husband had passed, even though it had only been a little more than a year. Did she, for a moment, feel strange about kissing a man who wasn’t her Abe? Absolutely! But she knew he wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone for the rest of her life, so she let those feelings go and simply enjoyed the warmth and sweetness of Harry.

When they finally came up for air, he asked, “So, have you decided what I’m to get you?”

She pulled back and looked up at him. He was serious! He really wanted to buy her something. How ridiculous. “I want nothing, Harry. Although, no, perhaps I want another kiss. That was delicious.” She lifted her face expectantly.

He obligingly gave her another peck on her lips, but that was all. “You must want something.”

She took a step back. “Truly, I want for nothing. The only thing I want is my inheritance from my father and to be able to take it back to America with me.”

“America.” He frowned at her.

“Yes, America. You know, that’s where I live. It’s where I like to live.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with living in Great Britain?”

“No, of course not. I just… I like Americans better. They’re…” She paused to think about it. “They’re less staid. More creative. They have a new country to run. New places to explore. New things to try. New opportunities to create and take advantage of. They’re scruffier, and I like that. I like their spirit.”

“So the English are too boring for you?”

“Yes. I want to move back to Boston. I have friends there. Or I could move to Philadelphia. It’s a vibrant city.”

He didn’t look at all happy by her decision. His eyebrows knitted together; his mouth turned down into a moue.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I know your life is here and I… I do so love being with you, but, yes, I am going to move back to America just as soon as I can.” Amelia felt bad for making him so unhappy, but there was nothing she could do. She certainly wasn’t going to change her entire life for one man. She’d done that once, and she was too old to do it again.

~May 10~

Ellen was looking forward to her day at the hospital. She knew it was probably very wrong, but she did always feel better after a day spent caring for others. And today, more than any other, she needed that stability, that feeling of routine, the feeling of normality before one letter had turned her entire world upside down.

She was happily writing a letter for one of the soldiers who was soon to be allowed to go home.

“I just can’t believe it, Lady Moreton,” he said, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I’m going home!”

“How long has it been, Sergeant?” she asked, giving him a smile as she dipped her pen into her little bottle of ink.

“Four years. Four very long years.”

“Goodness. Well, this is excellent news. To whom do you want to address your letter?” She poised her pen above the paper ready to write.

He began to dictate his letter, but the sound of the front door banging closed caught Ellen’s attention. She forced herself to keep her focus on the soldier and the letter she was writing for him, but the sound of whispering in the front of the room caught her ear. She was only four beds down the row, so while she could hear the nurses talking, she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“No! But…” came from a startled Nurse Cotswold.

“Shhhh!” Nurse Williams said quickly.

“I am terribly sorry, sergeant, but you’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” Ellen said after a minute. She turned and saw that the orderlies, George and Matthias, had joined the two woman. Now all four were talking with great concern, frowning to each other.

“Oh, uh, of course,” the patient said.

She placed her lap desk on the floor and joined the conversation at the front of the room. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Lady Moreton, it’s awful!” Nurse Williams cried quietly.

One of the doctor’s joined them as well. “Come, now Nurse, whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as you are making it out to be,” he said, with a condescending smile.

“But it is! The hospital, it’s been sold!” Nurse Williams said.

“Sold? How can someone sell the hospital? It’s a private institution,” Ellen asked.

“Lady Moreton, you are entirely correct. Nurse Williams, you must be mistaken,” the doctor informed them. At least he’d lost his smile.

“No, Doctor, it’s true. I just heard it from my brother. He’s a clerk at a solicitor’s office, and he was given paperwork to write up. It was the sale of this building!” Nurse Williams told them.

“Oh! So the building is being sold. Not the hospital,” the doctor clarified.

“Yes!”

“But that’s awful! Where will we relocate?” Ellen asked.

“I don’t know. I doubt there’s another building we could rent as cheaply as this. When I last spoke with the manager in charge of the hospital, he was telling me the bank which owns the hospital is only happy to do so because it’s not a very expensive proposition,” the doctor said with a sad shake of his head.

“We’re going to be shut down!” wailed Nurse Cotswold.