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Servants appeared with buckets of water. When the tub was full, Perry sank into it, his thoughts idly drifting. Grilley gave him a few minutes of solitude, and then the valet scrubbed him from head to toe. He stood and allowed Grilley to rinse the soap from him, the water sluicing down his body.

He appeared at breakfast in his uniform, and Foster asked, “What would you like for breakfast this morning, my lord?”

It startled him to think he had a choice in what to eat, much less that he could name whatever he wished, and it would appear upon his plate. He would need to work hard to erase the unpleasant years of army life.

“I will start with plenty of strong coffee. Three eggs and a rasher of bacon. Toast. With marmalade. That will do for now.”

“Yes, my lord,” the butler said, disappearing from the breakfast room to convey the order to Cook.

More than anything, he looked forward to drinking good coffee and tea. The ersatz coffee had never satisfied him, while the tea had been incredibly weak, the leaves used over and over until the water barely tasted of anything.

Foster returned with newspapers in hand. “If you would like to peruse these, my lord.” The butler set them on the table.

Perry had always enjoyed reading, especially the newspapers, seeing what bills were being passed in Parliament and what went on throughout the country and Europe.

He had not picked up a single newspaper since he had left Beauville and now almost dreaded what he might read about the war.

After four years, he understood the fighting would go far longer than any British politician or the War Office predicted.

While waiting for his breakfast to arrive, he skimmed several articles, surprised at how much of the paper was dedicated to gossip from the Season.

It amazed him how men and women could be dancing in ballrooms while their fellow countrymen were felled by bullets and sabers, not to mention diseases such as dysentery.

At least Perry had returned home intact.

Too many soldiers lost eyes. Arms. Legs. Many others never returned at all.

His meal arrived, and he ate with gusto. He would never again take for granted the availability and taste of good food. Once he finished eating, he went to the kitchens and found Cook. She looked startled by his appearance.

“I must thank you for the best breakfast of my life, Cook,” he declared. “After four years at war, I look forward to dining upon more of your wonderful meals.”

The old woman’s wariness evaporated, and she broke out into a smile. “Do you still have the same favorites, my lord? You used to favor roast chicken and duck for special occasions.”

“Food is scarce during a war, Cook. I will be happy to eat whatever you place before me, including roast chicken and duck.”

“I understand, my lord,” she said quietly. “If you think of anything you would care for me to prepare, only send word. I will be happy to make it for you.”

“I know I will want fresh bread daily,” he told her, thinking how that had been a luxury on the battlefield. The bread he did eat was usually moldy or infested with bugs and without fail, harder than a rock. “Perhaps a sweet or two every now and then, as well.”

“It will be blueberry scones at tea this afternoon, my lord,” Cook promised.

He salivated. “I eagerly look forward to those scones.”

Perry went to the stables, finding only two horses there.

He assumed the earl’s coach and team were in town with his mother.

That would be something he would eventually have retrieved.

She could take a hansom cab to her various appointments and assignations.

One horse he recognized as one Rankin had ridden regularly during the year before Perry had gone off to war.

The other mount was new to him, and he supposed it would become his horse to get about the estate.

He would need to meet with his steward soon, but he decided going into town and speaking with the tailor would be a much better use of his time.

He may have worn his major’s uniform with pride in the past, but Perry wanted nothing to do with it now.

The sooner he could have a small wardrobe made up for him, the better.

Then he would burn the scarlet jacket and never look back.

A groom saddled the horse for him, calling it Zeus, and Perry rode into Alderton. The day was already a beautiful one, not a cloud in the sky. The fact that the only sounds he heard were birds singing with no firing of cannon made it a day in which to rejoice.

As he reached the outskirts of town, he came to the church and its graveyard.

He decided to see if his father might be buried in the Beaumont section.

Tying his horse to a low tree branch, he wandered through the graveyard until he came to his family’s plots, finding the stone bearing his father’s name and his birth and death dates.

He stared at the last date, feeling nothing.

“Good morning, my lord,” a voice called.

He turned, seeing a man dressed as a vicar approaching. Part of being an earl, in Perry’s opinion, was being kind to others, and he would begin with this fellow.

“Good morning,” he replied in return. “I am Martindale.” He offered his hand.

“And I am Mr. Harper. I came to Alderton as vicar two years ago.” He paused. “I see you are visiting your father’s grave. Forgive me if I interrupted you at prayer.”

Perry had prayed mightily during the war, never knowing if God heard his prayers. After what he had seen, he wasn’t even certain he believed that God existed.

“No worries, Mr. Harper. I merely stopped on my way to town to pay my respects.”

“I am sorry for your loss, my lord.” Looking hopeful, the vicar added, “It would be lovely to see you in church tomorrow, Lord Martindale. Your father was so rarely in the country. In fact, I only met him once.”

“I am not one for town life. I will spend a majority of my time at Beauville.”

He wouldn’t volunteer any funds now, but he knew it was up to titled noblemen such as himself to make certain he generously donated to the local church.

Once he met with his solicitor, he would have a better idea of how much of a fortune he possessed.

Then he would address the changes necessary at Beauville, as well as supporting the community about him.

A moment of worry struck him, knowing his father liked to gamble. What if the previous earl had lost all the estate’s wealth? He told himself not to borrow trouble, at least until after he had met with his solicitor.

“Then I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, my lord.”

The vicar left, and Perry returned to Zeus, riding the short way to the tailor’s shop. He entered, spying Mr. Billings.

“My lord, it is so good to see you again back in Surrey, safe and sound.”

“I am happy to be on English soil again, Mr. Billings. I find I am in need of a new wardrobe.”

He saw the tailor assessing him. Not wanting to be gossiped about, he said, “My former clothing no longer fits me. I suppose my frame has changed during my years at war.”

“Of course,” Billings said. “Then we shall measure you. I will keep those measurements on file, my lord.”

He spent a half-hour with the tailor, discussing his needs.

For now, he could do with a smaller wardrobe since he planned to remain in the country, but he needed everything, from shirts to trousers to waistcoats and coats.

Billings assured him he could handle most of his wardrobe needs, save for new boots and hats.

While he could wear the Hessians he now had on as he traipsed about the land, he would need nicer boots not battered by war, as well as shoes and even a pair of slippers for the evenings.

“Come back in three days’ time, my lord,” the tailor told him. “I will have a few things made up for you by then. It will take another couple of weeks to complete everything.”

“Add a greatcoat to the list,” he suggested. “No need to work on it now, but I do want to be prepared for when winter comes. I plan to be out on my estate a great deal and wish to be warm on the chilliest of days. Thank you, Mr. Billings. I look forward to dressing as a civilian.”

He stopped in at the shoemaker’s, being sized for boots and shoes, and then thought to call at the milliner’s, where he placed an order for two hats.

By now, it was past noon. He was famished, despite the breakfast he had eaten only a few hours ago.

As a soldier, he had put aside hunger pangs, but now he was back in England, he swore never to go hungry again.

He decided to stop at the local bakery, which also served as a sweet shop.

If Mrs. Cadmann still ran it, he knew everything would be of good quality.

Entering the shop, he saw her, greeting her by name.

“Oh, Lord Martindale, how good it is to see you again!” she exclaimed.

He inhaled deeply. “Ah, the smell of your bakery was a favorite of mine as a boy. Things have not changed. Might I have some fresh bread with butter and a cup of tea, Mrs. Cadmann?”

“Coming right up, my lord,” she said, beaming at him. “Have a seat. I’ll bring the bread and crock of butter. A bit of jam, too, just in case you might favor some.”

Perry took a seat. Minutes later, he was filled with contentment, sipping a strong cup of tea and trying not to gobble down his bread. He told himself to savor it. To never be in a rush again. No one was chasing him across a battlefield, bearing down on him, trying to snatch his life.

The door opened, and a woman with copper hair entered. Mrs. Cadmann greeted her.

“Good afternoon, Lady Aldridge. It’s lovely to see you.”

He did not recognize the woman, which meant Aldridge had wed again, hoping to sire his heir. This wife was far prettier than the previous Lady Aldridges had been, though.

“I have my husband with me. Lord and Lady Huntsberry, as well. And my cousin has come to stay at Huntsworth for an extended visit. They are finishing up some shopping. I said I would come ahead and order tea and cake for all of us.”

“I will prepare it now, my lady. Any special cake?”

“I think your spiced cinnamon cake this time for us all.”

“Coming right up, my lady.”

She turned, spying him, and came over straightaway.

“You must be Lord Martindale. I am Lady Aldridge. My condolences on the death of your father.”

“We were estranged,” he said bluntly, not really caring to talk with another of Aldridge’s wives.

“I know you have been at war for several years. Thank you for your service.”

Her tone was genuine, and Perry regretted being harsh with her, recalling how he wished to be kind to all as the new earl.

Softening his tone, he replied, “I appreciate hearing that, my lady.”

“My husband will be here soon, as will my two cousins and Lord Huntsberry. Would you please join us so we might welcome you back to the neighborhood?”

It would be churlish to turn down her kind offer, so he nodded. “I would be happy to do so, my lady.”

The door opened, and two women stepped through it. Both had beautiful, tawny hair and even from where he sat, he noted their unusual amethyst eyes. They looked close in age and were obviously sisters, the cousins Lady Aldridge had referred to.

He rose to greet them, seeing two men following them into the bakery. Neither was the Lord Aldridge he had known from his youth, and Perry realized another death had occurred in the community, and a new Lord Aldridge had taken his title.

“Everyone, this is Lord Martindale from Beauville,” Lady Aldridge said. “My cousin, Lady Huntsberry, and her sister, Lady Drusilla Alington. And Lord Huntsberry and my husband.”

Perry saw the fond look she bestowed upon her spouse as she spoke.

He looked to Lady Huntsberry first. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He took the hand she offered. Turning to the other woman, he said, “And I am delighted to meet you, as well, Lady Drusilla.”

This time, the gloved hand he squeezed gave him a different feeling altogether. His gaze met Lady Drusilla’s. Her lips parted a moment. Then she smiled radiantly at him.

“It is so nice to meet you, my lord,” she said. “You look quite impressive in your officer’s uniform. I hope you might share with us a few stories about your time at war.”

Immediately, he released her hand. “I will never speak of the war, my lady,” he said adamantly. “It is in my past. I am only interested in the present—and the future.”

He turned abruptly from her, speaking to the two gentlemen.

“Why don’t we all sit?” Lady Huntsberry requested.

Perry found himself next to Lady Drusilla. As Mrs. Cadmann brought out a tray with slices of cake and distributed them, Lady Drusilla gently touched his forearm. Her touch brought a shiver which raced through him. He had never had a reaction to any woman before, much less one so strong.

“I apologize for upsetting you, my lord,” she said quietly.

“I must admit that I am a curious sort. I have spent my entire life in the country and have yet to even make my come-out.” Her nose wrinkled.

“I merely wanted to hear about your experiences because I follow the war in the newspapers. I realize it was wrong of me now to press you about such personal matters. I will think before I speak so rashly in the future.”

He warmed to her, not just because of her words, but because of her mesmerizing eyes.

“It was not a pleasant time in my life, my lady,” he told her. “I doubt I could repeat anything that happened to me without causing you dismay.”

“Let me make it up to you,” she said. Looking to her sister, Lady Drusilla asked, “Might we ask Lord Martindale to tea tomorrow, Lucy?”

“Since tomorrow is Sunday, why don’t we make it the day after, my lord,” Lady Huntsberry said.

Though Perry had thought he would relish solitude and not wish to interact with others now that he’d come home to Beauville, he found himself suddenly hungry for company. Even friendship.

And he wanted to know more about the intriguing Lady Drusilla.

“I happily accept your invitation, my lady,” he replied.

Then he glanced at Lady Drusilla. She smiled at him, causing his heart to beat faster. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to scour the neighborhood or go to London for the Season.

Because he might have found the woman who would make a perfect Countess of Martindale in Alderton’s bakery.