Page 5 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)

CHAPTER 5

~ FATE ~

Alex had gone to London again.

The sun grew hot, and my knees ached from the unforgiving ground where I planted seeds. I removed my gardening gloves, wiping a damp hand across my sleeve. I needed a break. I started toward the house, the newspaper headlines swirling in my head.

Nazis Raid London and 13 Towns

After relentless waves of German raiders failed to break through the RAF’s defenses on South-East England, Nazi bombers renewed their raids across the country. London continues to endure endless nights in alarm.

I recalled the story of one of our bomber pilots next. He had come dangerously close to a German target before searchlights spotted his plane, turning it into the focus of the enemy’s fury. Undeterred, the pilot dived eight hundred feet through a barrage of hellish fire and ordered the bombs released. “ I thought we couldn’t go back having gone so far, so we carried on,” he had said, his courage remarkable.

The pilot survived that day—a rare outcome. The loss of life and innocence on all sides of the conflict was incomprehensible. War was not confined to distant battlefields; it seeped into homes and hearts, leaving scars that would endure for generations. Yet, we had to carry on .

Predictably, I found the Haywoods and Zaira huddled around the radio. This time, the calm, instructive voices came from the experts at Kew Royal Botanical Gardens. They spoke of shortages of pharmaceutical plants, once supplied by Germany.

One of these essential plants was digitalis purpurea , commonly known as wild foxglove. As I listened, I pictured the dappled glades of the New Forest, where it thrived. Beautiful but dangerous, foxglove was notoriously toxic. It required careful drying to preserve its medicinal properties, a lesson Mr. Leroy had taught me years ago—the knowledge still lingered, sharp as ever.

Our nation now called upon its citizens to grow and, where possible, forage these plants. Zaira and I exchanged a glance, excitement flickering between us.

“We’ll need baskets, clippers, and thick garden gloves,” I said, mentally compiling a list of essentials.

“And maps.” Zaira unfurled one across the table, tracing her finger over the wooded areas nearby. “We can plan a proper foraging expedition.”

Mrs. Haywood, ever practical, spoke up. “I’ll mention it at the Women’s Institute meeting this week. I’m sure others would be keen to volunteer.”

“The plants will need to be dried quickly upon harvesting. I’ll build a drying shed,” Mr. Haywood said promptly. “We’ll need a few fellows from the village to help.”

“Then we have a plan.” I smiled, our newfound purpose lightening my previous gloom. “Let’s go scouting for glades this afternoon.”

“It’s a bit premature for that,” Zaira said, though the spark in her eyes revealed her eagerness.

“Perhaps, but it won’t hurt to look.” I was anxious to distract myself with something tangible—something I could control.

“All right. We’ll call it Operation Foxglove,” Zaira decided.

* * *

The Lagonda returned from London, its tires kicking up dust in the late afternoon light. Alex sat behind the wheel, with Mr. Brown in the passenger seat. The chauffeur took care of parking in busy streets while Alex hurried to his meetings. And often these days, they stayed overnight at Alex’s flat.

I propped the rake against the evergreens, eyeing the scattered leaves with disapproval before stepping into the courtyard. Alex hopped out of the car, and Mr. Brown slid into the driver’s seat to take the Lagonda around the house.

“I’m so glad you are home.” I pressed my cheek against his chest, reveling in his embrace.

“I see you missed me as much as I missed you.” He lowered his lips to mine, and for a moment, our troubles disappeared.

“You were gone longer this time.”

“I’m sorry.” He grabbed my hand, and we strode to the bench in the rhododendron garden. The plants sprawled unrestrained, the clusters of pink and violet flowers creating a soothing atmosphere. “Anything new at home?”

“The Haywoods, Zaira, and I have decided to join the effort to gather medicinal plants.”

“Of course, you have.” He smiled, but uneasiness clouded his eyes.

“How was your visit to London?”

“Fine.”

I knew then that something weighed on his mind. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m about to learn the final details for my mission.”

Final details meant imminent departure. “I didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

“General Thomas Frankfort will be here in a few days to finalize the plans.”

“Thomas?” I gazed at Alex in disbelief. Thomas was a survivor from the past, well acquainted with me.

“The very same.”

“You can’t be serious. He can’t see me!” I shook my head. “We can’t explain my resemblance to the Florence he once knew. He won’t understand.”

“We can’t, and we won’t. Thomas knows I’ve remarried and that you are American. You’ll have to be careful, that’s all.”

“Careful? I’m identical to my previous self. He’ll faint when he sees me!”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, what option do we have?”

“I could hide.”

“No. He’ll be your main contact while I am gone. You know you can trust him to tell you the truth. Listen,” Alex cupped my chin with his hand, “things are as they are. We won’t run from reality. It’s been nearly a quarter of a century for him. We’ll have to chalk this up to coincidence. After all, isn’t there a saying that everyone has a double?”

He was right. If I hoped to live a normal life, even as a living specter of the past, I couldn’t live in the shadows. Still, facing Thomas was daunting. “I’ll do my best. I hope it’s enough.”

“It will be. We don’t have time to worry about Frankfort. Once he arrives, the mission will roll fast. I’ll be gone soon after.”

“I wish there were another way for you to help, one that didn’t involve leaving England.”

“Believe me, I have wrestled with this day and night. I have thought of every excuse to minimize my involvement. But this is what I’ve been called to do, and I must see it through. We must continue to fight. If we don’t help those who need us, there won’t be anyone to help us when they come for us.”

“You sound like my father. He fulfilled his duty at the cost of his life,” I said, instantly regretting it. My personal loss loomed like a monster, clouding my vision. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I take that as high praise.” He stretched his arm across my shoulders, pulling me close. “You mustn’t fret. Things are better planned and carried out nowadays.”

That, I didn’t believe, but there was no point in arguing. Desperate to hold on to him, even a piece of him, I turned to the desire that ignited my soul whenever I let it breathe. “Now that our lives are changing . . .”

“Tell me.”

“I’d like us to reconsider having children.”

“I don’t want to have this discussion right now,” he snapped.

“This may be the only time we have left,” I shot back. “Like I told you at the beach, I’d love to have a part of us, of you, live on, especially now that you are leaving.”

“I can’t leave you with more than one uncertainty.” I saw the agony in his eyes but also the resolve. “I can’t risk coming back to learn that something went wrong. You say I’m risking my life with this mission. I say I’d be risking yours by leaving you with child.”

I got to my feet, fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to cry at his stubbornness but refused to give in to self-pity. “I disagree. In this instance, Mr. Sterling, you are wrong .” Disappointed and hurt, I strode away. He didn’t follow.

* * *

The air held a menacing, dormant energy. It was one of those days when the sun refused to show its face, hiding behind a blanket of clouds. I heaved a long sigh and turned at the sound of the shop’s doorbell, its chime reverberating through the morning. Zaira burst onto the pavement, clutching a box of chamomile tea.

“Wonderful. You found some,” I stated the obvious.

“You have no idea the stress I went through to get it,” she said. “Did you see the woman who came in after me? The one in the red fedora?”

“I did. What about her?”

“She was after the chamomile too. Luckily, I knew where it was and dashed for it. I felt a pinch of guilt, but not enough to let her have it.”

“They might have some in the store at the edge of town.”

“I doubt it.” Zaira shook her head. “The shelves are growing emptier by the day, and there’s no restocking in sight. The owner said shipments are compromised. Many never even reach the shore.”

“This darn conflict will get worse before it gets better.”

“Just in case, I’m going to enjoy this thoroughly.” She waved the box triumphantly. “Clarence likes it, too.”

“Is that what you two were drinking the other night?” On one of my walks, I’d spotted them chatting in the stable, steaming mugs in hand. Their bond had grown noticeably stronger since Clarence received the call to join the army.

“Ah, you don’t miss a thing, do you?” Zaira smiled. “Yes, it was tea. Clarence loves hot drinks, and so do I, as you know.”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.” I was overjoyed that my dear friend might have finally found her soulmate.

“I would like to think so.” Her voice grew softer, thoughtful. “You know, I’m starting to truly enjoy country life, and so is Clarence. In fact, he dreams of starting a horse-breeding business. Maybe even raising some of the finest horses in England.” Zaira rambled on about his plans, wisely omitting the uncertainty of his upcoming leave.

While I nodded along, I prayed they would be spared the ravages of war. They deserved the chance to build a life together, for, clearly, they were in love.

We reached the main square and hurried down the cobblestone path just as thunder rolled through the sky. The clouds brimmed with fury, ready to unleash their storm.

“Goodness gracious—that’s loud!” Zaira cried.

I looked up as another thunderclap exploded, reverberating in my chest. My gaze dropped to the block ahead, where a couple moved away from us. I glanced at the display windows across the road, then back at them. The woman sported a brown dress that accentuated her curves, and a flowery scarf draped over her hair. Her companion was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair. At first glance, they appeared ordinary folk, but something about them tugged at my instincts, a peculiarity that demanded closer inspection.

I hastened to shorten the distance, my curiosity growing.

“You don’t want to get rained on, do you?” Zaira teased, as she scrambled to keep up.

I didn’t respond. My focus locked onto the woman’s hurried steps—the way her hips swung just so.

“Florence, what’s gotten into you? Slow down!”

“Is that who I think it is?” I asked more to myself than her.

“Who?” Zaira croaked.

“White. Is that her up ahead?” My thoughts raced over the evil the woman had wrought in both my lives. Though I had no proof of my murder—unless, of course, Mr. Vines turned on her—there was a warrant for her arrest for fraud and for poisoning Alex. All that remained was to find her.

“Hmm . . .” Zaira squinted at the pair, her brow furrowed. “I’ll say, it looks a great deal like her, but it’s hard to tell without seeing her hair. One thing is certain, though, that’s not Mr. Vines. That chap is much younger and, needless to say, far better built.”

The woman glanced over her shoulder, and I could have sworn she jolted at the sight of us. Was she simply startled to see anyone, or was it us she hadn’t expected? She said something to her companion, and their pace quickened.

“Come on.” I almost broke into a trot. “Let’s find out.”

“Wait, Florence! What will we do if it is her? She’s dangerous.”

“I haven’t thought that far.” Cause a commotion to delay her until the police arrived? Give her the blows I owed her from Oak’s Place? Of course, her companion might complicate matters. Who was he?

Like a vanishing act, the couple disappeared between a row of houses. I hurried to the spot, only to find a deserted alley, shrouded in shadows and silence. Tall brick walls loomed on either side.

“Florence, wait for me!” Zaira called in a wheezy voice as I darted through the passage.

Emerging at the other end, I was met with an unexpected scene: an elderly woman sweeping the sidewalk with a broom, while a blue car sped away in the distance. My gaze jumped to the windows overlooking the road, to the shuttered shops nearby—all unnervingly still, as if frozen in time. My anticipation was dampened. The pair must have gotten into that car.

“Where did they go?” Zaira panted, clutching her chest as though to steady her heart. “Oh, goodness! I’m so out of shape.”

“I’m afraid they drove off, but let’s make sure.” I approached the woman, who grumbled something about “horrid cobwebs” as she attacked a windowpane with her broom. “Ma’am, did you see the couple who just passed by?”

She stopped mid-sweep, peering at me under thick brows. “Good morning, miss,” she said, summoning a strained politeness.

“Good morning.” I forced a smile despite my impatience. “Please, did you see where they went?”

“Well, yes.” She pointed at the car shrinking into the horizon. “They left in their car.”

In their car. “Do you know them?”

“And you don’t?” She was clever, there was a pressing reason behind my interest. Otherwise, why ask? A knowing look flashed across her face. “I don’t believe I have seen you around here before. Have I?”

Observant.

“We just moved into Forti Radici,” I answered. “We are related to Alexander Sterling.”

“Oh, yes. I heard he’d returned from America.”

I steered the conversation back to the pair, for it was apparent she knew them. I’d repeat the repentance prayer ten times later if necessary, but a small lie might earn me valuable information. “I thought they might be the Parkers—old acquaintances of mine. I haven’t seen them in ages and hoped to say hello.”

“The Parkers? Oh no. You’ve got the wrong folk.”

So, did I get the right one ? Could Mrs. White truly be within reach?

“If not the Parkers, then who?” Zaira interjected with a bright smile.

“The Burrells. I understand she is a widow who’s taken up lodging in the cottage at the Ackers’ farm.”

“Oh.” The disappointment was sharp, my vision of Mrs. White behind bars evaporating.

“And the man with her?” Zaira continued the interrogation.

“I heard it’s her nephew.” She looked sideways, and, with a swing of the broom, obliterated the spiderwebs on the window seal. “But I must say, I highly doubt it.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Well, you see, I’ve encountered them at the market on a few occasions. He’s always too close to her—I mean physically, as if ready to take a bullet for her. The poor thing seems perpetually on edge, jumping at every little thing. I have nephews, miss, and believe me, they don’t behave like that.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting indeed,” Zaira murmured.

“It is, but you know,” the woman said, “they might be folks relocating from the city. They are a peculiar bunch—quite traumatized by the bombings.” She had a point. It might be as simple as that.

“Adele, what’s taking you so long?” a man called from inside the house, the door barely cracking open.

Adele’s lips tightened, her knuckles whitening around the broom. I had the distinct impression she’d like to swat him with it. “I’d better go see what he wants. He always needs something. Good day to you.”

“Wait—what color is Mrs. Burrell’s hair?” I had to ask.

“Umm . . .” She thought for a moment. “White. Yes, yes, white.” With that, Adele disappeared inside.

I tuned to Zaira expectantly. “What do you think?”

“If it was Mrs. White, why would she risk being so close? Someone could recognize her. I mean, she may be off her rocker, but I doubt she is eager for prison.”

“True. Unless her rage toward Alex and me outweighs her fear,” I countered. “If she intends to cause harm, she’ll want to stay close to Forti Radici to know what’s happening.”

“Then why trade Vines for a younger fellow? She never mentioned nephews—or any relatives for that matter. Besides, Vines and she are bound by their past, and let’s not forget he is also on the run, so why separate? I can’t see that happening.”

She was right. Vines would follow Mrs. White anywhere. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Burrell was none other than Mrs. White.

* * *

For hours, I wrestled with the idea that Mrs. White might be closer than imagined, ready to execute one of her wicked plans. When I finally banished the worry, my desire for a family and Alex’s opposition came into focus. Ultimately, my love for him and the monumental task ahead of him persuaded me to stand down—for the time being. All I could now do was pray for his safe return and spare him unnecessary concerns. Hence, I neglected to mention my suspicions about the couple in town.

I reached for him, finding his spot on the bed empty. I rolled to my other side and inhaled sharply. Thomas. After all this time, he would see me again, just as he must remember me. For my part, I considered him a loyal friend, one who hadn’t wavered in rescuing us from the ruthless German leader, Krause. The memory was swift.

We had been captured and disarmed. Alex suffered a brutal beating. Then Krause aimed his rifle at him. The anguish I saw in Alex at the failure to save us and the mission remained just as painful as the day it happened. My heart stopped as I’d awaited the shot, but when it came, thank heaven Krause, not Alex, lay dead. Thomas and his men saved our lives.

In the labyrinths of my mind, I traveled forward to the days in Keyhaven, to when Thomas taught me to fire a rifle, and we read books on the beach. I was eager to see him again and apprehensive all the same. How would he react? How would I respond? Could I carry on as if I’d never known him? I would soon learn the answers. He should be arriving at any moment, if he hadn’t already.

I descended the staircase and saw Alex in the shadows of the foyer, staring out the window. “Is he here? I can’t tell you how many times I awoke last night, worrying about this.”

He stepped into the light, and I paused, taking in the young, handsome face.

“Good morning,” the soldier said.

“Good morning,” I responded at once, feeling foolish for my blunder. “Do forgive me. I was looking for Mr. Sterling.”

“A pleasure to meet you. Miss . . .?” He extended his hand, looking smart in his brown military uniform,

“Florence Sterling. Mr. Sterling’s wife.”

For a fleeting moment, disbelief flashed in his brown eyes—perhaps because I was younger than he expected. “Wing Commander William Haywood.”

At the sound of his name, the awkwardness vanished. Having championed his return, I felt as if I already knew him. “Oh, Mrs. Haywood’s son!” I was overjoyed for her. Though motherhood had never fully been realized for me, it felt as innate as a fledgling’s growing wings. “Welcome to Forti Radici, Commander Haywood.”

“Thank you. Please call me Will.”

“Have you seen your mother yet?”

“Yes. I just left her and my father in the kitchen. I’m waiting for General Sterling. He is speaking to General Frankfort in his office.”

Just then, Zaira appeared around the corner. “Oh, good, good. You are already up,” she addressed me. “Mr. Sterling would like you and Commander Haywood to join him in his office.” Her eyes surveyed the young soldier, no doubt for the umpteenth time today.

“Thank you, Zaira.” To Will, I said, “This way, please.”

I guided him through the corridors, my chest tight with the anticipation of seeing Thomas. My footsteps must have matched the rapid beating of my heart because before I knew it, we stood before the door. With a warning tap, I let us into the office.

Alex and Thomas rose from their seats on either side of the desk. My gaze found Thomas’s as his found me. He looked as if he had seen a ghost—his mouth agape, his face drained of color. In a brown military uniform, he still cut a striking figure. His eyes, though lined with age, remained alert as they had been twenty years ago. His red hair, now threaded with silver, framed a face with a bushy mustache—one that reminded me of my father’s.

I neared them, uncertain of what to say. To have known him so well, yet now pretending I didn’t know him at all, was more destabilizing than I had anticipated.

“General Frankfort, this is my wife, Mrs. Sterling,” Alex said, and I wondered if he had purposedly omitted my first name.

“General Frankfort, I’m pleased to meet you.” I extended my hand, reeling in my emotions.

“The pleasure is all mine.” His voice was unsteady, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“I’ve heard much about you.” I smiled reassuringly, fearing he might faint. “Are you here to take my husband away?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” Maintaining eye contact, he dropped into the armchair. “But there is some truth in that.”

Will sat in the chair beside Thomas. I stayed on my feet, unsure of my purpose here beyond meeting my old friend.

“Shall we proceed with the matter at hand?” Alex proposed.

“Carry on.” Thomas tugged at the end of his mustache. Again, I could see my father in him.

“Should I leave?” I asked before they could suggest it.

“No, please stay,” Alex responded. “I have permission for you to learn about this.”

I nodded, grateful not to be left in the dark, and took the chair next to Will.

“Commander Haywood,” Alex started, “as you know, your record is flawless. Your flying skills, coupled with your knowledge of aerodynamics, make you a prime candidate for this assignment. We appreciate the Royal Air Force loaning you to us and your willingness to take on this mission, especially when so little has been disclosed to you.”

Alex had warned me that Will’s abilities would make it difficult to bring him home. This mission was the loophole that made it possible. And what could be better for the young pilot than to be under Alex’s watch?

“My pleasure, sir.” Will straightened with pride.

“As you are aware, this is a high-profile mission,” Thomas emphasized, glancing at me again. “Its success or failure could very well dictate the future of our country.”

I thought back to the night of my first wedding to Alex. The blissful day had ended with the announcement of a mission much like this one. The cost of success had been my father’s blood and that of many others. Whose blood would it cost this time?

“Let’s go over it briefly, just the main points,” Alex said gravely. “Britain has developed several technical prototypes for weapons of mass destruction. In scientific endeavors, we are a step ahead of other nations. As things stand, however, we are at risk of invasion, and we cannot advance or produce these inventions in great volume. The United States, on the other hand, has the capability to do so. We are going to share the information with them.”

I had imagined a myriad of possibilities, from sending more spies into Germany, to a plot to capture Hitler, to secretly seizing the French fleet to keep it from Nazi hands, but not this. My thoughts spilled out before I could stop them. “Are you saying that we are to hand over our secret advancements to another country?”

“Mrs. Sterling, out of everyone here, I would’ve never thought you to be the one to object.” Thomas’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned slightly toward me.

“And why is that, Thom—General Frankfort?”

“Because you are the only American in this room.”

His declaration grounded me like a wounded bird. “Forgive me. This awful war is truly upsetting.” I despised being the ghost of my former self.

“Well, we don’t have much choice. We need the United States to do what we cannot. It’s either this or slavery to the Nazis,” Alex clarified. “We are sacrificing something important for something more valuable—our liberty.”

“Is that our mission, then?” Will surmised. “To bring the intelligence to the States?”

“Yes and no. Ours is a backup task for the group delivering the physical documents. In addition to copies, we’ll store as much data to memory as possible,” Alex replied. “I’ve memorized some of the most critical designs and formulas, but it’s a vast project.”

“That’s impressive, sir,” Will noted.

“Not really. I was familiar with them already.”

It suddenly dawned on me. At the beach, Alex said that after the Great War, he took part in developing weapons of mass destruction. This knowledge made him a target, and uniquely qualified for this undertaking.

Alex continued, “Commander Haywood, you understand the vulnerability of our planes and defense systems. Once you’ve seen the new designs, you’ll assist us in identifying which advancements we should prioritize.”

“To make sure I understand, are we speaking about the possibility of building better planes than the Spitfire?” Will’s face lit with excitement.

“Much better,” Thomas assured.

“Remarkable,” Will muttered.

“You can say that again,” Thomas agreed with a wry smile. “We have developments that, trust me, you can hardly imagine. Now, as you can appreciate, this is a delicate matter. If harm comes to the first group, it will fall to you to complete the mission—and time is of the essence.”

“Commander Haywood, you’ll remain in Forti Radici until we depart,” Alex informed.

“When would that be, sir?”

“As soon as we get clearance,” Alex answered.

“Your mother will be ecstatic to have you a while longer,” I said to Will.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” he responded warmly.

Thomas reached for the teapot and refilled his cup.

“Where should we have Commander Haywood set up?” Alex asked me. “The staff quarters are not an option. Too many distractions. We can’t risk the commander losing focus right now.”

Will averted his gaze to the floor, as if silently agreeing with Alex’s assessment.

“Please feel free to pick any rooms upstairs,” I invited.

“Including Lucca’s?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Any room.” After my encounter with my brother during my journey back in time, I was at peace with his memory.

Thomas choked on his drink, his eyes widening as he clutched his throat. Whether it was the liquid going down the wrong pipe or my audacity in offering the late Mrs. Sterling’s brother’s room, I couldn’t be sure. In Keyhaven all those years ago, I’d told him about my disagreement with my father when he allowed Alex to occupy it.

“Are you all right?” I handed him a serviette.

“Fine—fine.” He wheezed, a cough bursting from his chest.

“Right, then. I’ll ask Martha to give Will a tour.” Alex rose. “I’ll be right back.”

Alex and Will withdrew.

Thomas composed himself.

I readjusted on the chair, smoothing my skirt with uncertain hands. Now that he and I were alone, I wasn’t sure what to say, especially when he regarded me for an uncomfortable moment, as if waiting for a confession.

“Would you like some more tea?” I offered.

“No, thank you. Choking once was enough.”

“I’m sorry, it must have gone cold.”

“Just a little.”

“I’ll take care of it.” I reached for the pot.

“It’s all right. I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I beheld his eyes and felt the urgency to learn more about him. Was he married? He wore a wedding ring. Did he have children? I opened my mouth to ask but quickly shut it again.

Thankfully, he spoke first. “Is this your first time in England?”

“It is.” At least, it was in my current life.

“And do you like it, Mrs. Sterling?”

“I sure do.” I then said something that sooner or later he would discover. “Please call me Florence.”

“I’m sorry?” His eyes protruded to an unnatural size, and for a second, I feared he might choke again. “What did you say?”

“Call me Florence. It’s my given name.”

“Alexander’s deceased wife’s name was Florence,” he sputtered. “You’re aware of that, yes?”

“A great coincidence, isn’t it?” My responses were doomed to be truths cloaked in layers of lies.

“Quite so, but not as great as your resemblance to her. You must forgive me, but have you seen a portrait of the late Mrs. Sterling?” He scanned the room, searching for one in vain.

“I’m afraid they were stored away before I arrived.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were her twin, cousin, or otherwise related.” His voice sharpened, as if I were an enemy under interrogation. “Are you aware of that too?”

“Somewhat, yes.” Disappointed by my lies, I rambled on, digging deeper into the mire. “I suppose we can’t discard the possibility of a family connection. Like many Americans, I have British roots. Perhaps my likeness to his late wife is the reason Alex married me—wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest?—”

“It’s all right. We are happy together.” I pressed on before he could respond. “What about you? Are you married?”

“Yes.” His gaze fell to his ring. “I have five children—three boys and two girls.”

“Any in the army?”

“Thank heavens, no. They are not old enough for that. My wife couldn’t bear it, nor could I.”

“I have no children, but after seeing Mrs. Haywood’s distress over Will, I can imagine.” Had he married Catherine, the Countess of Brockenhurst’s daughter, my old friend and confidant from the past? I should have asked Alex.

“Oh yes. The mere thought of our boys being conscripted gives Mary a steady flow of nightmares.”

Mary , not Catherine.

A shadow drew our gazes to the windowpane. Clarence moved across the grounds, a horse in tow.

“Do you enjoy horseback riding?” Thomas inquired.

“Very much.” I strode to the window, memories from my previous life surfacing. I despised this silence between us, all that had gone unspoken for so long.

Alex walked in then. “Frankfort, we have much to discuss.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” I headed to the door.

“Mrs. Sterling,” Thomas called.

“Yes.”

“With the war and the risk of an invasion, I strongly suggest you learn how to use a rifle—unless, of course, you already know how.” The edge in his voice made it clear he was fishing for answers.

“Thank you. I shall remember that,” I responded evasively. He had endured enough shock for one day.