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I t took them a full week to reach their final destination of Bandon. At the rate they’d been going, Harrington supposed he should be pleased they’d made it there at all.

They spent another day on the island, then two days in the small port town of Bearhaven, where they were able to resupply sufficiently to resume their journey.

This time, the voyage went smoothly, and they anchored in Cove Harbor outside of Cork the following day.

From there, they made their way overland to Bandon.

Bandon was a pretty town that was unusual in that it had been founded by English settlers sent to Ireland by Queen Elizabeth some two hundred years earlier.

For a time, the town was exclusively Protestant, and Protestants remained the overwhelming majority of the population.

Although just last year, the first Catholic-owned business had opened on Main Street—a pie shop run by a man named Paddy Gaffney who was so good-natured, people were willing to set aside their religious differences.

Because of this history, Bandon had a reputation for giving British troops stationed there a warm welcome.

The soldiers were quartered in four-story barracks buildings made from plain grey stone.

But, as Harrington was a married man and Diana had the means, they were permitted to rent accommodations of their own choosing.

Diana found them a cottage on the outskirts of town, and they hired a local woman named Maeve to come over each day to cook and clean.

On their third night there, the officers and their wives were invited to dine at Castle Bernard by the Earl and Countess of Bandon.

In spite of its name, other than an old medieval tower, the castle was newly built and boasted every modern convenience.

The earl and countess were particularly delighted to discover that a duke’s sister would be taking up residence in town, a significant addition to the local society.

By day, Harrington drilled the troops of the King’s German Legion and instructed its officers in a new set of tactics.

It wasn’t easy to convince the men, much less the officers, to give up the rigid lines and squares that were the bread and butter of infantry troops.

And when he informed them that the individual soldiers would determine when to fire their weapons, rather than waiting for an order from their commanding officer, their first thought was that he was joking.

Slowly, very slowly, he brought them around to this new strategy for waging war.

Harrington had been an officer of the 95 th Rifles for three years, so he had a solid understanding of light infantry tactics.

Additionally, he was a marksman of some repute, so he felt that instructing the soldiers in shooting—especially now that they were armed with rifles and actually expected to aim—was a good use of his abilities.

Once everyone wrapped their heads around the fundamentals of skirmishing, the most peculiar thing happened—he gained the respect of his fellow officers.

Not that he hadn’t been well-liked amongst the officers of the 95 th Rifles.

But there, his knowledge of light infantry tactics had merely made him fit in, rather than stand out.

But here, he was looked on as an expert, both in terms of strategy and marksmanship.

Both officers and rank-and-file soldiers appreciated the fact that he was there, sharing his knowledge.

He, Harrington Astley, the family scapegrace, the black sheep who had been on the brink of being sent down from school every single year for his abominable misbehavior, was now regarded as a key factor in the success of an entire regiment!

It was heady stuff for a fellow such as him.

While he was busy drilling with the King’s German Legion, Diana was forging friendships amongst the officers’ wives.

Nine such ladies resided in Bandon. Diana was the youngest by almost a decade.

But they were all hale and hearty women who had been following their husbands on campaign for years, and Diana confessed to Harrington that in spite of their differences in age and station, she had more in common with them than with the vast majority of the ladies of the ton .

Each night, she would regale him with stories of how she had spent her morning with her new friends, usually riding or going for long walks with Inge trotting happily at Diana’s heels.

When Diana mentioned that she would feel safer riding astride, as she’d had to leave her specially trained mare, Artemesia, back at home, her new friends did not appear the least bit scandalized.

Mrs. Phipps, the wife of a captain, remarked that it was the logical thing to do.

Everyone murmured in agreement, and that was that.

In the afternoons, Diana informed him, the ladies might gather to sew, which Diana could do using a tabletop embroidery stand. But because that made for slow going, she would often volunteer to read aloud to the group. And a few times a week, she would call on Lady Bandon at the castle.

Many evenings, the officers and their wives would gather together for dinner.

These occasions were sometimes grand, such as when the Earl and Countess of Bandon were hosting at Castle Bernard.

But they were often simple. One night, Harrington and Diana even hosted their new friends at their humble cottage.

They had to crowd around the table, and the fare, which was a combination of pies purchased in town and simple side dishes prepared by Maeve, was far from gourmet.

But no one cared a whit, and by all appearances, everyone had a marvelous time.

Other nights, Harrington and Diana were on their own, which he found even more enjoyable.

They never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

After dinner, they would curl up in front of the fire, and Diana would help Harrington with his German.

But they never managed to study for too long.

They always seemed to wind up making love on the sofa, not that Harrington had any complaints.

The most astounding thing of all was how happy Diana looked.

Really, what were the odds— Diana Latimer .

Happy. With him ! But as improbable as it seemed, the woman known as an ice queen in London greeted him every evening with a glowing smile and a kiss, eager to tell him about the adventures she’d had that day.

He was doing important work, work he was good at. He had earned the respect of his colleagues. He was married to the woman of his dreams, and she seemed to delight in his company.

He should have been happy, and he supposed he was. But beneath the happiness was an uneasy feeling deep in his gut. It was the conviction that a great oaf like him could not possibly attain this level of success and happiness. That something was going to go wrong.

And, indeed, it did.

Diana noticed the stranger three weeks after their arrival in Bandon.

He wore a wide-brimmed hat, floppy and plain, the same kind worn by the farmers who came to town on market day. His coat was shapeless and brown, and his boots were scuffed. But he didn’t look like a farmer. He lacked the round-shouldered posture and bulky strength of a working man.

Diana felt at once that something was off about him, but when she turned to study him, he ducked down a side street and was gone.

She shrugged it off. Who knew what the man was doing in town? It was probably nothing.

Except she saw him again the following day while she was collecting their post from the local inn.

She had arranged to have The Times sent to her each day.

The news was two weeks out of date, but she enjoyed reading it, and on that day, she’d had a letter from Aunt Griselda and another from Lucy, so she’d been eager to return to the cottage.

She almost missed him when she stepped out of the inn.

He was standing across the street, leaning against the wall of the bootmaker’s shop, hat pulled low over his face.

Diana stopped so short she almost stumbled.

She had just resolved to get a closer look when a cart laden with cabbages rumbled down the street.

By the time it had passed, the man was gone.

She went on her way. But she saw him the following day, lingering at the edge of the churchyard after Sunday services.

Harrington, who had already befriended half the town, was busy chatting with their laundress, Mrs. Mulroney, and by the time Diana gained his attention, the stranger had once again disappeared.

She told herself she was being silly. What act could be less suspicious than attending church, after all?

Still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

On Monday, she spotted him as she passed through town on her way to call on Lady Bandon. On Tuesday, she saw him across the street as she went to the home of Mrs. Hayes, the wife of a colonel who was hosting an afternoon gathering for the officers’ wives.

It was on Wednesday, when she spotted him while out on a morning walk with Mrs. Monroe and Mrs. Phipps, that she truly grew concerned.

She gestured across the field. “Do you see the man standing next to that hazel tree?”

Mrs. Phipps paused, turning her head. “What about him?”

Diana dropped her voice low even though the man was fifty yards away. “Does his appearance strike you as… unusual?”

Mrs. Monroe stared across the field for a beat. “He looks like a farmhand.”

“Then why isn’t he working?” Diana asked.

Mrs. Monroe shrugged. “He’s probably taking a short rest.”

Diana swallowed. “I keep seeing him around town. I’m starting to feel like he’s following me.”

Mrs. Phipps studied her with kind eyes. “I know that must seem unnerving. But surely it is not unusual to run into the same man a few times in a town so small as Bandon. After all, what reason would he have for following you?”

Diana bit her lip. She had not been entirely forthcoming with her new friends about the details of her life back in London.

They knew she was the sister of a duke, but they didn’t know that she had a dowry of a hundred thousand pounds, or that she would one day inherit Aunt Griselda’s fortune, which was easily worth twice that.

Mrs. Phipps wrapped an arm around Diana’s shoulders. “Come. I’m sure it’s nothing. Let’s not let it spoil our walk on such a fine morning!”

They had all chuckled, because it was what the Irish called a soft day with a steady sort of drizzle. But Diana couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder as they departed.

The strange man was gone. But Diana’s sense of unease refused to budge.

That was when she decided to mention it to Harrington.