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“Bran! Sefyll ,” a woman called in a voice of command.

The dog skidded to a halt and panted, tongue lolling. Bright eyes regarded Hew, and Anne, with great curiosity.

“ Lawr ,” the woman said. The dog dropped into a prone position, paws tucked, and regarded the chicken on their cloth with a gaze of absolute longing.

Hew rose, rotating his back and wincing, as if he’d gone stiff. “I beg your pardon,” he said automatically.

Ever the gentleman. Anne breathed again. The dog sat quietly, licking its lips, as intent on the chicken as a hound on its prey.

The woman was older, perhaps the age of Anne’s mother, clad in a long black cloak with a small net veil fluttering from her hat. She wore the clothes of a gentlewoman and had the gait of one, her black half boots sinking quietly into the grass as she neared them.

“I beg your pardon for the intrusion,” the woman said. She spoke like a gentlewoman, too. “Bran has the impolite habit of not waiting for an invitation. I am terribly sorry he disturbed your picnic.”

“We hardly expected to be alone. In fact I think a boat is approaching now.” Hew indicated the top of the staircase of locks, where the prow of a narrow boat had appeared.

Men’s voices sounded in conversation, and one of the workers cranked a great wheel to raise the wooden gate.

With a splash, water began to fill the lock below.

The men on the boat above sat back at their leisure, waiting for the slow process to complete. One waved to their little group, and Anne waved back. Then she realized the older woman had waved, too.

“I am Hewitt Vaughn of Greenfield,” Hew said, “and this is Miss Anne Sutton.” Anne inclined her head, not certain if she should curtsy.

“Miss Sutton.” The woman gave Anne the briefest of nods before turning her attention to Hew. “Captain Vaughn of the Royal Artillery. I heard you’d returned. In fact, I have been hoping to meet you.”

“You might call at Greenfield,” Hew said courteously, glancing at the dog. At a signal from the woman, the spaniel rose and trotted toward them, pushing his nose into Hew’s hand. Hew scrubbed the animal’s head and the great tongue lolled.

“I do not think I am welcome at Greenfield,” the other woman said, a dry amusement in her tone. “I am Miss Meredith.”

“The vicar’s Miss Meredith? He spoke of you. And your charities.”

“ The Miss Meredith?” Anne rose, shaking out her skirts, and stepped to Hew’s side. “We have one of your young protegees at Greenfield. A girl named Mair.”

Miss Meredith nodded. “I hope she is going on well for you, and minding her manners. She’s a spirited girl, but a quick learner.”

“I enjoy her company. But she made me curious to meet you.” Anne held out her hand. The woman pushed the veil back from her face, and Anne’s jaw dropped.

“Forgive me,” Anne said, collecting herself. “You look very like someone I’ve met in Newport. Mrs. Lambe, who runs the pie shop.”

Miss Meredith nodded, though her eyes flicked toward Hew as if waiting to see what he made of this conversation. “Eilian is my daughter,” the other woman said. “She … went away to live with friends when she was small. I am gratified to have her back.”

Anne shook hands, the other woman’s gloved fingers firm in their grip. Eilian had not mentioned family in town. Had she returned on account of this woman?

“You must be very proud of her,” Anne said. “Such skills she has for healing. And the pies are delightful.”

Miss Meredith laughed. Odd that she was Miss—would not a widow go by Mistress? “Mrs. Reece is to be credited for the pies,” she answered. “But Eilian is indeed canny with her herbs and remedies. I was glad to see her become a healer. She has a gift for it.”

“She is teaching me,” Anne said.

Hew turned toward her with some surprise. Ah, she had not mentioned that.

“At least, I plan to ask her,” Anne said. “To take me on as her apprentice, if I might.”

“So you will be staying in the area for some time, I hope,” Hew said softly.

She held his gaze, searching for meaning in it. His eyes were the iron-blue of the sky above them and just as vast and unknowable.

She turned to Miss Meredith. “Forgive me, but why would you not be welcome at Greenfield?”

The woman wasn’t looking at Anne, her eyes still trained on Hew with a wistful expression. “That is for Captain Vaughn to say, is it not?”

Hew looked politely puzzled. “I am sure you may call whenever you like, and I hope my mother would be courteous.”

“Ah.” Miss Meredith drew backward, as if he’d swatted at her the way one might chastise a puppy. “So that is the way of it. I see.” She turned and whistled for her animal. “ Dere , Bran.”

The animal shot to her side obediently, though not without casting one last hopeful look at the cloth laden with food.

“We must be on with our walk, or Bran will grow naughty. Good day, Miss Sutton. Captain Vaughn …” She hesitated, her eyes resting on Hew with a sort of pained tenderness.

“It is good to see you home,” she said finally.

Hew bowed his head slightly. “Good day, madame. I should like, someday, to hear more about your work.”

“You may call upon me in Pensarn Cottage, at High Cross,” she answered. “I would be happy to speak with you. Someday.” She moved away, her dog trotting at her side.

“That was an odd exchange,” Anne remarked.

Hew shook his head. “There is something there I do not understand. Why should she think my mother would not receive her? She seems a gentlewoman. The vicar spoke highly of her charitable works.”

“And Mair spoke of her as nearly a saint. Perhaps Eilian knows something.”

Hew stood over their picnic, half-eaten. “Do you suppose we should—?” He made a half-hearted gesture indicating the food.

Anne found her appetite had whisked away in the hope that Hew might kiss her. Besides, she had no wish to sit and eat with the men in the narrowboat, laden high with iron, mere yards away in the long process of descending the staircase.

“We might stay if you wish to see the locks in action,” she said.

“I’ve seen them.” Hew squatted and began gathering the scattered bits of food.

“It only confirms what I suspected. There needs to be more water, for look how slow they are going, and there is another boat approaching above.” He waved to the top of the staircase, where more voices drifted down from the top of the hill and the prow of another boat edged into view.

“The locks must be widened, and then we will need more wharves on the Usk to ship all this ore. I know I am right. It is only a matter of finding someone to listen.”

His mouth twisted, and Anne saw the grimace he’d given her when he spoke of being imprisoned for insubordination. She wanted to ask for the rest of the story. How he’d been freed. What happened next.

What he would say if she summoned the bravery to speak and tell him she might want to marry him.

But the moment had fled, and her courage with it. She helped roll up the cloth and tuck the bottles and dishes and cutlery back into the basket, where Mrs. Harries or the kitchen maid would have the unpacking of it and perhaps enjoy the food more than Anne had.

She held her silence until they neared his home and she saw the carriage standing in the forecourt of Greenfield, footmen unloading a significant pile of luggage at the back.

“Who could that be?” Anne asked as Hew drew the pony cart up behind.

More visitors his mother had summoned to attempt to divert Hew’s attention from Anne?

“That is our carriage,” Hew said, a grim set to his mouth. “Calvin must have returned.”

“And with him …” Anne’s stomach knotted, flailed, and then sank as she recognized the monogram on a leather trunk banded with iron. “My parents.”

“How can you?—?”

“So that is where he went. To Llanfyllin, and Vine Court.” Anne wanted to curse, to scream, to clench her hands into fists and shake them at the sky. “He brought my parents to make me stand by my promise to marry him.”

Her mouth tasted of ash and lye. She had missed her chance with Hew indeed, for now her choice would be taken away, and there was nothing she could do about it.