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Then he did laugh. “Shut up, Jasper. You can’t buy Mercury.

” He shook his head. There was a story here, amusing because it had ended well.

But even his elastic imagination could not come up with a scenario where Olivia marrying Benjamin would lead to Jasper promising her his horse.

“Let me go wash and change my clothes. There is time enough to discuss whatever needs to be discussed.”

*

Crispin took two hot baths, during which he examined himself closely for crawling things.

He was relieved to find only several bites, nothing living.

When the second bath cooled to tepid, he toweled off and sent for Jasper’s valet.

He needed a decent shave, and to steal a splash of Jasper’s cologne.

Tomorrow, he would avail himself of the Bond Street shops and buy his own. Jasper’s blend of sandalwood with a few light floral notes was pleasant, but Crispin had no wish to walk around smelling like his brother.

Spending a morning choosing a cologne. There was something absurd about civilian life.

While waiting for the valet, he opened his wardrobe.

Tentatively. He kept a few clothes in London but nothing suitable for a ton wedding at St. James’s Church.

His eye lit upon a dark blue jacket that he’d never seen before.

He threw the door open wider. A flash of irritation was followed quickly by resignation. Then gratitude. Jasper .

Not only was there a new jacket, but also a crisp white linen shirt and a pair of superfine buff trousers. A note was pinned to the jacket.

Our tailor still had your measurements, but has agreed to see you tomorrow for any necessary alterations. If you choose . I’m not telling you what to wear to Livvy’s wedding. Or suggesting you should not be in uniform. I am simply glad to have you here and wanted to give you something.—J.

Crispin sucked his teeth a moment, then chuckled. It was impossible to be angry with a man so tactful, but of course, Jasper was telling him what he must wear to the wedding. Moreover, he was subtly conveying a message: Resign your commission. The war is done.

Maybe. Maybe he would.

He quickly donned the new clothes to check the fit.

A warm feeling of well-being spread through his body.

The waistband was snug. The shoulders…he tried hunching, straightening, lifting his arms. Both the shirt and jacket were binding about the shoulders.

He’d put on weight. He peered more closely at his reflection.

Still skinny as a fencepost, but perhaps a more substantial fencepost.

The valet knocked and entered, carrying a basin of steaming water. A shaving kit dangled from one arm, and towels were draped over his shoulder. “Do you require assistance, Major?”

“If you would be so good,” Crispin said, dropping his smile. Men should not be caught grinning at their own reflections. He peeled off the jacket and hoisted the shirt over his head. “A shave. Trim my hair. And make me an appointment with the earl’s tailor for tomorrow morning.”

“Very good, Major.” He gestured to a chair. “If I may, welcome home.”

*

Vanessa summoned him with a note. Tea in the parlor at 4:30 . A very countess-like summons. Good for her.

Rather than arriving late to make a grand entrance, Crispin decided to go early.

The parlor, with its woodsy décor and well-worn furnishings, was the most informal of the family’s gathering places.

He could sit calmly in a chair by the hearth as if he’d never been gone.

But when he stepped over the threshold at quarter past, he found his family had been more impatient than he was.

They leaped from their seats. Olivia, who was closest to the door, launched herself into him with such force he nearly toppled over.

He hugged everyone in turn, willingly, now that he knew he would not be infesting his loved ones. He reached his mother last, and held her the longest. When she stepped back, he saw tears in her eyes and fine lines at the corners that he’d never noticed before. She said, “You survived.”

He nodded. God’s will, he supposed. His unfathomable will. But, too, his own will to live had somehow always been stronger than his wish to die.

He moved to the center of the room and bowed.

“Behold, the victor. Now, tell me everything I’ve missed.

” He ignored the rumble of complaints. They wanted to hear his stories, but he didn’t want to talk of soldiering.

He turned to the first of his sisters-in-law.

Beautiful as always, yet he thought she looked a bit peaked.

Her red-blonde hair was dulled and her cheeks looked blotchy.

“Georgiana, we must start with you. Where is Arthur?”

“Sleeping, thank God. When he wakes, his nurse will bring him to meet you. Be forewarned, he is teething.”

Teething? Having no idea what that meant, he merely said, “Good. Next, Vanessa.” He spun toward her.

Brown-haired, brown-eyed, she was pretty rather than beautiful, though Jasper would challenge him on that.

More importantly, he was glad to see she appeared well.

“The ton did not toss you out on your ear?” Vanessa was a widowed commoner who had been Jasper’s mistress.

A lesser woman would have been eaten alive by “polite” society.

She gave him a wry look. “They are more accepting than I expected.”

“Accepting?” Jasper protested, the pitch of his voice high with disbelief. “They are welcoming!”

Vanessa ran her hand down Jasper’s arm, but her focus remained on Crispin. “I underestimated Jasper’s hold on his following. The men commanded their womenfolk not to snub me.”

“ You are winning them over,” Jasper insisted.

“Slowly.” Then Vanessa smiled. “I think, slowly, they are coming around.”

Always clear-eyed and brave, she was the most admirable woman Crispin had ever known.

“And our fellows in Cartmel?” he asked. Their mutual acquaintances were wounded veterans turned bootmakers.

Their boot mill had been floundering until Vanessa discovered a leather craftsman who transformed dull men’s Hessians into pretty, practical footwear for women.

She’d made it her mission to bring those boots to the ladies of London.

He should pay a visit to Cartmel, but there were old army fellows here in London he needed to call upon first.

Vanessa’s smile grew. “They are doing very well.” She lifted her hem two inches. Olivia, Georgiana, even Mother followed suit. Crispin laughed.

Olivia said, “I want to wear these to the wedding—”

An indignant chorus of “no” dissolved into laughter. Crispin’s heart warmed. His ridiculous family. His gaze went to Benjamin, who stood just apart. Crispin realized he had not specifically greeted the man who would soon be his brother-in-law. The man who had once saved his life.

He crossed the room and stuck out his hand. “Benjamin. Welcome to the family.”

The concern etched in Benjamin’s brow faded. Crispin felt mildly offended that Benjamin could have doubted his approval. He’d never been a prig like Jasper.

At that moment, three maids entered the room with tea and trays of teacakes and sandwiches.

Crispin eyed the offerings and exhaled with relief to see the oatmeal biscuits he knew he could safely eat, as well as jam, black butter, and a bowlful of nuts.

They all took their seats. Vanessa poured.

Jasper distributed the cups, which was amusing to watch.

“Now,” Jasper said, when everyone was chewing or sipping. “What are your plans?”

Crispin swallowed. He did not scowl outwardly, though he was doing so inwardly.

He didn’t want his family to see his pathetic state of indecision.

He considered shrugging, but that would be an admission of sorts.

The devil. He was known for decisiveness, an ability to take swift and total control of difficult situations.

Not for dithering. Then he rescued himself by noticing something he should have seen earlier. The family gathering was incomplete.

“Where is Hazard?” Viscount Haslet. Jasper’s closest friend. An accessory brother. He was always about somewhere.

It unnerved him to see the way they all exchanged glances.

Reg said, “Jasp, didn’t you write to tell him?”

“No, I didn’t write,” Jasper answered, bristling. “I assumed Haz would have.”

“What is wrong?” Crispin asked, his gut tightening. Hazard was the best of fellows, but, considering his…proclivities, any number of things could be wrong.

“Nothing.” Jasper shook his head as if to loosen the clench of his jaw. “Nothing. He is on his way back from Cumbria. He and Alice would not miss Olivia’s wedding for all the world.”

Crispin tried to rearrange Jasper’s words into some semblance of sense, but the phrases did not fit together.

“And where is Alice?” She, too, should be with them.

Alice Fogbotham was Georgiana’s cousin, and Olivia had taken to her at once.

Crispin liked her a good deal, despite a certain intensity of purpose that made him wary.

No one answered. “What is wrong?” he demanded once more.

“Nothing!” Olivia cried. “It’s all wonderful. Alice is with Hazard. They’re on their honeymoon.”

He stared at her, trying to discern if she was joking. Perhaps they were all pulling his leg, and Hazard and Alice would leap out from behind the draperies.

Jasper said, “It’s for the best.”

Vanessa harumphed and said, “It is the best.”

All at once, Crispin understood. Hazard and Alice had solved their own difficulties—Haz’s need for an heir, his not-so-well-hidden preference for men, Alice’s lack of a dowry, and her bizarre fondness for arguing politics.

“It is perfect.” It seemed everyone had sorted themselves out. Except for him.