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“T hat’s the gentleman you asked to Lady Mortensen’s ball?” Lady Blakemore clarified.

“The gentleman she was out riding in the park with the other day,” Diana added.

“A gentleman you have been spending a great deal of time with, clearly,” Lady Sorrell said.

“Lord Pennyston is…” Ellen started. She only wished she knew how to finish the sentence. “He is very kind. Very thoughtful.”

“Someone you would like to spend more time with? Perhaps a great deal more time?” Lady Ayres asked, a smile growing on her face.

Ellen couldn’t help but do so as well.

“I thought so!” Diana exclaimed with a little laugh.

“Well, I believe that answers your question, Lady Moreton,” Lady Blakemore said. “You should allow for your marriage to be dissolved in whatever way possible, and then see if Lord Pennyston is interested in spending more time with you.”

“You don’t think I should find that out first before the dissolution?” Ellen asked.

“You must decide whether you are going to commit yourself to your marriage or not. There is no option to commit only if Lord Pennyston is not interested,” Lady Gorling said firmly. “That would not be right.”

Ellen sagged a little. “I know. You are absolutely right, my lady. I need to decide how I feel about my husband—”

“How strongly you feel about him. Clearly he wants the dissolution. You would have to fight for your marriage,” Lady Sorrell pointed out.

“And what if it is he who has moved on?” Duchess Bolton asked.

Ellen widened her eyes. She hadn’t even thought about that. “He mentioned nothing of another woman in his letter,” Ellen said.

“Well, then we’ll have to assume there isn’t one,” Lady Gorling said.

Ellen nodded. She had some thinking to do.

“It will become easier once he’s returned, and you can speak directly with him,” Lady Blakemore said.

“Thank you, my lady. I think you may be right,” Ellen agreed.

“What is the other problem you have?” the duchess asked.

“Oh.” Ellen closed her eyes for a moment. Her confusion about her marriage was washed away by the painful uncertainty of the hospital’s future. “The hospital where I volunteer… the owner of the building is selling. We’re terribly afraid that the new owner is planning on throwing us out. We simply don’t know what we would do. We have nearly fifty injured soldiers at the moment, and sometimes that number can grow to as many as a hundred. Where would we go?”

“Who is the buyer? Can you speak with him?” Lady Sorrell asked.

“I don’t know who it is, and the solicitor in charge of the transaction won’t say,” Ellen told them.

“Can you find out who is selling the building?” Lydia asked.

Ellen shook her head again. “I can get nothing from this man. He is the most closed-lipped solicitor I’ve ever encountered.”

“Well, that does speak to his integrity, but it doesn’t help you, now does it?” Lady Blakemore commented.

“No. Do you have any ideas?” Ellen asked the room at large.

“I’d say we find out how much the offer is for the building and raise that much and more,” Lydia said, sitting forward at the edge of the sofa.

“And then outbid whoever is proposing to purchase the building,” Diana finished for her.

“Yes,” Lydia agreed.

“Could we buy a building?” Ellen asked.

“Well, I suppose, technically it would have to be one of our husbands,” Lady Blakemore said.

“I suppose if we became some sort of official charity we could do so,” Lady Gorling added.

“We’ll have to look into that. But for now, we should start planning a party where we could raise the money.” The duchess looked as excited as Lydia at the prospect.

“We are excellent at such things,” Lady Ayres agreed.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, all.” Ellen looked around the room and felt all of her muscles relax. She could breathe easy—regarding the hospital, at least.

~May 12~

Christopher was drying his face after shaving himself when he heard a click of his door. He was shocked to see Freddie limp into his room, leaning on a smart black, silver-handled cane.

“Good morning, my lord,” the batman said, giving him a smile.

“Good morning. I assume your leg is doing better?”

He gave Christopher a broad smile. “It is, thank you. I hope ye don’ mind, Peter found this in the attic and thought it might come in handy.”

“Not at all. I’m glad he found it.” Christopher took a clean shirt from a drawer and started to pull it on. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Freddie hobble over to the wardrobe and start looking through his few coats.

The man shook his head and tsked . “I know ye said ye just got a new coat, but I think ye’ll need some more, my lord.”

“Yes, I—”

“Now, I know ye don’t plan on goin’ out too often, Major, but ye can’t be seen in these old coats o’ yers. They’re all so old, I think I’ve got nephews older than some of ‘em.”

“I agree—”

“Even if yer simply goin’ out and sitting in a dark corner of yer club, ye need to be dressed like—”

“Freddie. Freddie! I agreed with you,” Christopher cut him off, laughing. Clearly, the man hadn’t even been listening to him, so intent he was on making his argument.

“What? Ye agreed?” Freddie stopped and turned around to face Christopher.

“Yes. I did. We can go over to Weston’s today if you feel up to it.”

“Really? Today?”

Christopher chuckled as he pulled on his breeches. Freddie was like a child who’d been promised a special outing, he was all but jumping up and down and clapping his hands.

“Wait,” Freddie said, narrowing his eyes at Christopher. “Why are you agreeing to this? What’s happened? Is there something yer not tellin’ me?”

Christopher widened his eyes innocently. “No. I told you I went out driving with Lady Moreton in the park, didn’t I?”

“Ye did, although you failed to tell me how it went.”

“It was a very pleasant afternoon. We met some friends of hers, and Lord Colburne, a friend of mine who was out riding with his wife.”

“And no one said a word about yer scar, did they?” Freddie asked, coming over with Christopher’s blue superfine coat in his hand.

“No, as a matter-of-fact, they didn’t. There were no widened eyes, no gasps, nothing. It was the oddest thing, Freddie,” Christopher admitted.

“Hmm-hmm.” Freddie tossed the coat and his cane on the bed and took up the cravat Christopher had put there.

Christopher placed himself in easy reach so Freddie wouldn’t have to take a step to help him tie the neck cloth. “And then on Monday evening, I met another fellow at the club. We agreed to do some business together, drank on it, and then after he left I realized I was sitting out in the open like anyone else.”

“An’ no one said a word or looked at ye funny,” Freddie said, nodding.

“No. The only one who said anything was Lord Wickford, who was happy to say ‘I told you so’ just like you want to right now if I’m not mistaken.”

Freddie grinned at Christopher. “But yer my employer, so I won’t.”

“Very good of you,” Christopher said, turning to look in the mirror to see how he’d done with the knot. It wasn’t too bad. It was a simple barrel knot, which was fine. He wasn’t planning on seeing anyone aside from the tailor. Christopher probably couldn’t have done a better job on his own, so he was happy.

~May 13~

“My lady, I was wondering if you had a minute to go over the menu for your dinner party?” the housekeeper asked after Ellen bid her come in to the drawing room.

“My dinner… oh, my goodness! I completely forgot about that.” Ellen put a hand to her head and wondered if she shouldn’t cancel it. But it was only two days away, surely it would be beyond rude to do so at this late date. No, she would just have to go on with it. It was only close friends, anyway. She gave the housekeeper a little smile. “Of course, Mrs. Smithton, let’s do that. Please, do, have a seat.”

They’d only gotten to the fish course when the footman knocked on the door and came in. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but there is a… a man here who claims to be Lord Moreton.”

Ellen couldn’t breathe. For a minute, she was certain her heart completely stopped beating in her chest. Richard was here? Now? So soon?

“My lady?” Mrs. Smithton leaned forward and patted Ellen’s hand. “You’ve gone white as a sheet.”

“I’ve got smelling salts,” Mrs. Perbury said, coming over with one hand, feeling around in the reticule she carried everywhere she went. “Where are they?” She stopped to open the purse wider, so she could look more closely.

“No,” Ellen said, swallowing hard. “No, it’s all right. Show him up, Lawrence,” she told the footman.

Ellen took some deep breaths as soon as he was gone.

“Are you certain you don’t want—” Mrs. Perbury started, holding up her bottle of smelling salts.

“No, thank you. That’s very kind, but… but I’ll be all right. Mrs. Smithton, maybe you’d better see to tea. We’ll finish the menu later.” Ellen released the tight grip of her hands. She had to appear calm and collected when—

Richard walked through the door.

He looked… remarkably well, Ellen thought as he stood at the entrance. His blond hair was a little long and oddly cut, but his blue eyes were clear, and his broad smile was as familiar to her as her own. He seemed broader, more muscular, but perhaps it was simply that she remembered the boy he’d been with more clarity than the man she’d married.

“Richard.” With a start, she remembered her manners and gave him a curtsy. “Lord Moreton.”

He bowed and came forward. “Ellen, my goodness, is it possible that you are even more beautiful than the last time I saw you?” He took her hands in his and bent to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“You are looking well. I’m terribly sorry, but you’re looking a great deal better than you did the last time I saw you.” She gave a little laugh as she remembered how awful he looked after his night of carousing with his friends. He had been dressed a great deal better than he was now. He looked to be wearing homespun breeches and a coarse woolen coat, but then, he always looked good no matter what he was wearing.

He smiled. “I feel a lot better than I did, then too. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get much sleep the night before I left.”

“No, you didn’t. You were too busy—”

“Who was I with?” He rattled off a list of names that sounded familiar, but they weren’t people Ellen had known then or since.

“I take it you haven’t kept in touch with them either?” she asked and then realized how rude that must sound.

He looked chastened. “No. I… I haven’t written or kept in touch with anyone. I wrote to you and to my mother before I returned, and that’s all.”

Ellen nodded. “Please, sit down. Tea is on the way.” She indicated the sofa to him but took the chair where she’d been sitting before.

“You got them recovered? Or are they entirely new?” he asked, running a hand across the pale blue damask.

“Recovered. They’re too good to be thrown away all together,” she told him.

“They are good pieces. I could make better now. Perhaps something more fashionable with scroll back—” He stopped himself and laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been making furniture for the past three years and sometimes forget.”

“Furniture? Is that what your… what the couple who tended you…”

“Yes. He’s a carpenter, and she does the padding and covers for the chairs and sofas we make. I beg your pardon, he makes. I, er, I have learned the trade as well.”

“My goodness. I can’t imagine you a carpenter,” Ellen said with a little laugh. “You were never one to work with your hands.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I never had the opportunity.”

“So, this is something you enjoy?” she asked. It never occurred to her that she would know so little about this man she was married to, but now as she thought about it, she really hadn’t known him very well even when they’d gotten married. He’d been away at school, and even though he’d come home for holidays, he had been influenced more and more by what he’d learned while he was away and from his friends. He was no longer the boy she’d played with as a child.

“I do enjoy it immensely.” He looked embarrassed to admit it. When the tea tray was brought in, he looked relieved to have something else to focus on.

Once they both had a cup in their hands and he was munching on a piece of seed cake, she asked the inevitable. “So, what are you planning on doing?”