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T hey were immediately faced with a long, dark hallway. There was barely enough light to see their way through. As they moved forward, he suddenly found Lady Moreton fumbling for his arm. He took her hand and tucked it securely around his arm.

They moved carefully through the hallway before climbing a steep stair. At the top, they passed through a doorway and suddenly found themselves staring across a brilliant harbor of sparkling green-blue water toward the magnificent, ancient walled city of Valetta.

Christopher couldn’t believe it. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of the room. He nearly swayed on his feet; it was so real! He could practically smell the fresh sea air and hear the seagulls as they swooped over the stately, stone walls of the city.

Lady Moreton gasped next to him, bringing him back to himself. He felt her hold on his arm tighten as they stepped forward to examine the fantastic scene before them. It was precisely as he remembered it—the tan stone walls of the city, the spires of the cathedrals.

“Where are we?” Lady Moreton whispered.

“This is Valetta, the capital. We’re looking over the harbor toward the city. You can stand on a point on the opposite side of the bay and take in this exact vista. This is just…”

“Incredible!” she finished for him.

“I feel like I’m there,” he agreed.

“As do I.”

He could feel her head nod as the brim of her hat brushed his shoulder. He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide, and her face slightly pale. “Are you all right? Shall we proceed?”

She turned to look up at him. “Yes.” Her voice sounded hesitant, but she was definitely attempting to be brave. He could only admire her for this—and thoroughly enjoy how close she was holding him. If he’d only known a panorama would allow him this level of intimacy, he would have brought her some time ago.

He gave her hand a slight squeeze, and they moved forward to see what else this amazing exhibit had in store for them. The next panel showed Fort St. Angelo. It was a stately building. Enormous cannons pointed out to sea as the fort defended the island from any and all intruders.

“That looks impressive,” Lady Moreton commented. Her fear seemed to be easing. It was good, but a shame since she wasn’t clinging quite so tightly. Christopher was a horrible, horrible man, and he knew it, he thought with a little chuckle.

“It is. Sadly, despite the excellent fortifications, it was unable to withstand the invasion of the French,” Christopher told her.

“I thought Malta was part of the British Empire.”

“It is a protectorate, now,” he agreed. “We were asked to come in to rout Napoleon and the French, which we did, handily. Then, we stayed to help govern and protect the island. I was there only after the French had left,” he added.

“So, you were there in peacetime?”

“Yes.”

“But then you got transferred?” she asked.

He nodded. “To the Peninsula.”

A group of people in front of them moved forward so they could see the next panel.

“Where the war was happening.” Her voice faded away as his mind was overtaken by the sight before him.

Screams. His ears were filled with the screams. Human. Horse.

Legs kicked. Balance lost. Eyes wide with fright. Spittle flying from screaming maws.

Christopher was flying. The ground came up too fast. Arms were held out. Catch the ground before being trampled. Flying hooves. Roll. Protect.

Don’t get killed.

The cries and grunts of men. Fighting. Swords clashing. Cannons booming. Bloodied, mangled bodies.

Shouting. Screaming. Calls for help. Help! Help.

Christopher swayed on his feet. His cheek burned as if he’d just been sliced open.

Noise. There was too much noise. Too much screaming.

“Monster! Monster! There’s a monster!”

The words penetrated Christopher’s clouded mind, incongruous to the battle scene before him. To the scene within his mind.

A woman screamed.

Christopher swung around to find people staring at him.

Pointing. Screaming. Shouting.

He reached for his sword, but it wasn’t there. He was vulnerable. He was in danger.

“NO!”

No, it’s not real. It’s not real .

The words cried out in his mind even as he found his feet taking him from the scene. He stumbled and caught himself. He couldn’t… he couldn’t…

He ran.

~*~

Ellen turned on the woman and child who were still screaming even as Lord Pennyston bolted from the room. “How dare you?” she stomped a foot even as she shouted above their voices. “How dare you?”

They both immediately shut their mouths and looked at her with wide frightened eyes.

Ellen knew it would be fruitless to go chasing after His Lordship, so instead, she focused on the idiots who’d terrified an already disturbed gentleman. She’d known immediately that something was wrong.

The moment the battlefield came into sight, she could feel Lord Pennyston tense. He went absolutely rigid. She’d tried to say something, to reassure him in some way that it was just a painting no matter how real it looked. She’d had to remind herself of the very same thing from the very moment they’d walked through the doorway. She’d felt immediately overwhelmed and, well, frankly terrified of the vistas before them. She’d clung to Lord Pennyston’s arm, grateful for his solid strength.

She wished to be there as such for him, but then…

“How could you? How could you scream at a gentleman in that way?” she scolded the woman and child before her. She had a vague awareness that everyone in the room had turned to stare at her, but she didn’t care. She was much too furious.

“But… but… he was deformed,” the woman stammered.

“He has a scar—a scar he got while fighting the French on the continent, defending our country. He is not a monster. He’s a hero.”

The two stared at her but said nothing. They looked only slightly embarrassed for their outburst.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Ellen strode away, leaving them and this horrible room behind her. She prayed Lord Pennyston would be waiting for her.

She looked up and down the street when she got outside, but he was nowhere in sight. She’d just come back from walking to the end of the block and back when His Lordship’s carriage drove up, and her maid hopped down.

“My lady, where is Lord Pennyston?”

“I was just about to ask you that. Did you not see him run out?” Ellen asked.

“We did. He looked like he was being chased by demons,” the driver said.

“Sadly, I believe he was—demons in his mind,” Ellen told him.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll find his way home,” the man said, looking around.

“Yes, I do expect so.” Ellen wasn’t happy at leaving without him, but she didn’t see any other alternative. She had no idea where he might have run off to.

~*~

Harry and Amelia wandered in a leisurely manner down the wooded path in a little-used area of Kensington Gardens. It had become their habit to avoid most of the other visitors and strike out on their own or at the very least keep to the lesser-used paths.

“So, my dear, have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked Amelia.

She had been telling him about her thoughts for the future. She had to do something sooner rather than later. She simply couldn’t go on living with Ellen. The girl was either going to leave with her husband to travel the world or admit to herself that she was madly in love with Lord Pennyston and marry him—should he ever come up to scratch, which Amelia sincerely hoped he would. It was clear they were perfect for each other.

“I would truly prefer to return to Boston or Philadelphia, but sadly, it doesn’t look like this solicitor is going to be able to do anything for me with regard to my inheritance. He won’t let me take out a chunk all at once, nor will he allow me to have another collect it for me unless I’m in England. I’m at my wits end with this fellow.” She shook her head, completely annoyed that this man was being so very stubborn in adhering to the very letter of her father’s will. “And I just… well, I don’t know how long I would be able to put up with my sister-in-law’s constant complaining and ill-health. We are complete opposites in every way.”

Harry nodded before clearing his throat. He tempered the pace of his walking—which Amelia felt was already frustratingly slow. “I might have another option for you.”

That brought her to a complete halt. She turned to look at him. “What might that be? I’ve got to do something .”

His lips twitched as if he were contemplating a smile, but instead his cheeks paled a little and then flushed bright red. Amelia wondered if he had heart problems like her husband. She grabbed onto his arm, should he begin to sway as her husband had just before he dropped dead.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes, what? Oh, yes, yes. I, er, I thought that perhaps I might have a solution to your problem.”

“So you said—or at least started.”

“Er, yes. The thing is, you might… that is… might you be willing… I, er, I have discovered that I am quite… aw, hell. Amelia Rutledge, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Amelia suddenly discovered that it was she who was swaying on her feet. Her head felt distinctly light, and the world seemed to tilt alarmingly.

Harry tightened his grip on her arm. “No, no, I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“No,” she breathed. “You didn’t… you didn’t upset me. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. You… you love me?”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “I do.”

With those two simple words, her world righted itself once again. To be completely honest, she’d never thought about her feelings for this sweet, gentle man, but now that she did, she realized that she loved him too. How very odd! Never in her life had she even imagined she might be so blessed as to love two very different, very wonderful men in her life.

She gave him a smile. “I love you, too, Harry. I would be honored to marry you.” She couldn’t believe those words had just come from her. “I haven’t given it a moment’s thought, but I don’t need to. I love you.”

He laughed and pulled her in close for a hug, but before Amelia even realized it, he was kissing her. Kissing her! Oh my, Harry’s kisses were very, very nice. She leaned in to him, wanting more. She was disappointed, to say the least, when he pulled away.

“We’ll save the rest for our wedding night, you minx,” he said with a little laugh. “And when we are not in public.”

“Oh, goodness, yes. I completely forgot where we were!” she admitted, wondering if she weren’t the one flushing now.

He chuckled again and gave her nose a little tap of his finger. “Now…” He pulled her hand around his arm once again and continued to walk down the path. Amelia was grateful for his strength. “What do you think about Virginia? I have sent letters out to some plantation owners there who I know. I’m thinking of building a factory near Richmond. Of course, I will need to be there to oversee the start-up of the business. After that, I suppose we could move a little farther north, perhaps to this new capital they’re building, Washington. What do you think?”

“Oh, Harry, I honestly don’t mind where we live so long as it’s in America, and I’m with you,” Amelia said. She hadn’t felt this happy and muddled for years.

“Are you certain? You seemed rather keen on Boston, but I’m afraid that would be a little far for me.”

“Truly I don’t care. But… you’re going to start a new business there, in Richmond? Isn’t that going to be a lot of work?” she asked, beginning to come out of her happy fog.

“It will,” he agreed. “But I have an idea of someone who might be willing to help. I have yet to speak with him, so… well, we’ll see. I’m just happy we’re going to be together. I had to be sure of that before I could truly begin anything other than a little preliminary planning.”

“Oh, Harry. I will follow you anywhere.”

He laughed again but too quickly became serious. “Now regarding your inheritance,” he began.

“I don’t care—” she started.

“But I do want to remind you that if you move back to America, you will lose whatever you were expecting,” he reminded her.

She could only sigh. “I know.” She had another thought. “But what happens to the money if I don’t get it, do you know?”

“I do not. I’m certain there is something in your father’s will stipulating what would happen to it should you remain in America.” He paused and then added after a thought, “I imagine the funds will simply revert back to the Seaford estate.”

Amelia nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, but I wonder if I can’t make a request as to what happens to them.”

He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t believe you have any say in the matter. It would be up to the current Lord Seaford. Depending on what sort of fellow he is, he might entertain a suggestion from you. What do you have in mind?”