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“What an excellent idea,” Captain Larson answered grimly.

He lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.

A young lad—his clothing a size too small for him, his eyes intelligent—materialized beside him.

“Fetch Lieutenant Foyle’s horse. He wants to go home and speak to his father about an urgent matter.

On your way, collect the gentleman’s hat and gloves. There’ll be a sixpence in it for you.”

“Yes, sir!” the boy answered brightly before disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Larson pinned Foyle with a look that brooked no argument. “Go home, Lieutenant Foyle. That’s an order.”

Foyle tried to focus his bloodshot eyes. “Shan’t,” he said petulantly.

Captain Larson stepped closer, his nose almost touching Foyle’s, his fury turning his face as red as the wine-seeped nose of his opponent. “I. Said. Go. Home.”

Foyle blinked a few times, as if trying to comprehend the instruction.

Perhaps Captain Larson had triggered a memory of Foyle’s father, the only man the drunkard seemed to fear, for his entire body relaxed into submission.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” He patted Larson on the shoulder.

“Good man. Fetch me my horse, will you?”

“I have sent for it,” Larson replied. “And when it comes, you are to take your miserable bones directly home. Have I made myself clear?”

“Like a crystal bell.” Foyle hiccupped. “All tinkly.”

Captain Larson sighed. “Heaven help us when we go to war. Let us pray the enemy have several Richard Foyles in their battalion too.”

“If that be so,” William said in a low voice, “it will be my pleasure to shoot them.”

The three men stood and waited for Foyle’s horse to arrive, though for one of them, it was less standing and more of a gentle rocking.

Fortunately, it did not take long for the boy to reappear, leading the horse with one hand and carrying Foyle’s hat—with gloves stuffed inside—in the other.

Getting the fellow up into the saddle was a far more time-consuming matter, as was the trick of having him stay in his seat.

“Get a grip on yourself, Foyle,” Larson commanded. “The least you can do is not fall off while the animal finds its way home.”

“I could walk with him, sir,” the boy offered.

Captain Larson’s face brightened. “Now there’s a good lad. Here’s another sixpence for your trouble. Mind you make sure he gets all the way home, not just to the street. And you tell the butler Captain Larson sent you.”

“Yes, sir!” The youngster threw a salute to make a drill sergeant proud.

“Now there’s a fine young man the army could use,” said William. “How’d you like to sign up for a smart uniform and a bit of adventure?”

“Still too young, sir,” the boy replied, his eyes cast down.

“Ah, well, maybe it’s for the best,” William replied.

“Good night, then, sir,” said the lad, who began to lead the horse and its almost unconscious rider away. “Where to, sir?” he asked Foyle, leaning closer to hear the mumbled response, then waving to William and the captain as he walked on.

“That was more work than he was worth,” Larson muttered. “What was he up to this time? I cannot imagine something trivial setting you off like that, Cole.”

William’s lips grew tight. “I’d rather not repeat what he said, sir. But I will say that he was expressing most dishonorable intentions toward Miss Lockhart, sir.”

“Ghastly fellow! No woman should be prey to that man’s foul thoughts, least of all an innocent like Miss Lockhart.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Captain Larson picked at the finger of his glove. “Er… Does she have an attachment? Someone who could defend her if it came to that?”

William wished he could say yes . Instead, he hesitated. There was something about the way the captain had asked. Did he hope to fulfill that role? Heavens, was there not a man in Munro who did not want to claim her?!

“Sadly, there is no one at present that I am aware of,” William answered honestly. “The best we can do for her now is to haul Lieutenant Foyle off to Europe with us and hope to leave him there.”

“Ha! Yes, certainly. Or…” There was that thoughtful pause again. “One might be bold enough to create such an attachment.”

“You would be a fine candidate for the task, sir,” said William, and he meant it, even if the thought of Miss Lockhart in the captain’s arms sank its teeth into his heart.

Captain Larson dropped his jaw slightly. “Why, thank you, William. That is very good of you to say. Though I do wonder why you have not claimed the enviable task for yourself.”

“Oh, I…. Well, the truth is…” William floundered. “The truth is…” He took a deep breath and exhaled it. “I missed my opportunity.”

“That is a great pity.” Larson shook his head. “And yet you do not strike me as the sort who would give up. What keeps you from trying again?”

“The lady has made her feelings clear.”

“Pardon my blunt observation, but what was clear at the ball was that she very much enjoyed your company.”

“We remain friends.”

“And that is all?”

“That is all.”

“Women have been known to change their minds.”

William’s brow drew into a frown. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I was under the impression you might prefer Miss Lockhart and me to be just friends. Why do you now encourage me to pursue her once more?”

Captain Larson formed a wry smile. “I am a man of discipline, William. Discipline, order, and efficiency. It is not prudent to invest my efforts where they are likely to be wasted. If there remains a chance that Miss Lockhart has not fully closed her heart to you, I would prefer to support your endeavor rather than my own.”

William scratched the back of his head. “Alas, sir, I have no desire to offend the lady by approaching her when I have already been rejected. We have become friends for the very reason that I no longer take her for granted.”

“That’s just it, Cole, don’t you see? It is very unusual for a lady to welcome friendship with a gentleman after she has rejected his suit.

If I may, she is not the only one who has noticed a change in you.

You are a long way from the newly commissioned officer I met five months ago.

That chap was all swagger and not much substance, if you’ll forgive my bluntness.

But women are a forgiving sort. If Miss Lockhart liked you then but wished there was more to you, she may be pleased with what she sees now.

It would seem a terrible loss if she carried the same regret you do, and nothing comes of it.

I certainly would not wish to proceed with my own efforts until I was sure her affections were not aimed elsewhere. ”

“Are you saying I should risk my newly formed friendship so that you can court her without fear? That hardly seems reasonable, sir.”

“Come now, William. There are ways to establish where a woman’s heart lies without so greatly offending her that your friendship is at risk. An honest conversation could do the trick, for one.”

William drew a hand across the stubble of his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decide the wisdom of the captain’s words.

“You know, sir, you are much more the romantic than I would have credited you.”

Larson looked down at his feet. “Let’s just keep that between the two of us, hey? There’s a good chap.”

“I shall think upon what you have said.”

The captain’s head lifted briskly. “Good for you. And don’t waste time.

Life is short. It is often especially so for men who march with the king’s colors.

” Larson looked wistfully into the distance, as if he saw his future there.

Then he turned to William once again, his businesslike manner reestablished.

“I believe there is a picnic next week in Munro Park. Everyone who is anyone will be there. And you should be too. It is a public place. The lady will not need a chaperone as long as you speak in view of others. Yes, I believe that will do nicely.”

William folded his hands across his chest. “And if it is a charming, little disaster, I can let you know I am officially out of the race, I suppose?”

“Just so. Though I suspect, given what you have told me, that I have already lost.” Larson patted William on the back. “Don’t fret, Lieutenant. You and I shall maintain our mutual respect, regardless of the outcome. Though, perhaps, the winner can buy the loser a drink. What say you?”

“I say you are putting the cart before the horse. I have yet to think further on it. But I promise that I shall.”

“Good man. In the meantime, how about we enjoy our evening at Shillington’s now that the riffraff has been removed?”

William grinned. “I’d say that is an excellent idea, sir.”

They turned toward the entrance of the gentlemen’s club, when the moonlight caught something gleaming on the ground. William picked it up. It was Foyle’s hip flask.

Larson whistled a descending scale in admiration. “Looks to be pure silver, Cole. You’re in luck.”

William shook his head. “It’s Foyle’s, sir. I’ll return it to him when he’s sober.”

Larson uttered a single, gruff laugh. “You may have to wait some time, then.”

William stared at the flask, the earlier events rushing through his mind. “I want him to apologize first. He won’t do that when’s he’s half-sprung.”

“Just promise me you won’t risk everything by laying a hand on him. He’s not worth it.”

“I promise.”

“Right. Good. Now where were we? Ah, yes, onward and upward.”

They marched smartly up the stairs and back into the warm rooms filled with the smell of good brandy and cigar smoke. The thick carpeting and hum of conversation swallowed the sound of their footfalls.

Soon William was seated once more at the whist table, his shilling on the dark-green cloth.

All thoughts of Richard Foyle were forgotten.

And a wonderful feeling of anticipation for a certain picnic grew full in his heart.

Given enough time, it would galvanize him to action.

Then he would know, once and for all, if Miss Lockhart might ever be his one great love.