She has nothing left but faith...

With her father’s death, Anna Newfield loses everything—her home, her inheritance and her future. Her only piece of good fortune is a job offer from wounded major Edmond Grenville, whose mother requires a companion. The Dowager Lady Drayton is controlling and unwelcoming, but Anna can enjoy Edmond’s company, even if she knows the aristocratic war hero could never return her love.

Even amid the glittering ballrooms of London, nothing glows brighter for Edmond than Anna’s gentle courage. Loving her means going against his family’s rigid command. Yet how can he walk away, when his heart may have found its true companion?

“Don’t be frightened. This is the gentlest horse in my brother’s stable,” Major Grenville said.

He pulled her around in front of him, gripped her upper arms and captured her gaze. “Miss Newfield, you may count on me.” The firm, warm touch of his hands set her heart to fluttering uncontrollably. “I will not allow you to be harmed.”

“I thank you, Major Grenville. You have shown me nothing but kindness. I do trust you. Shall we begin? After all, what’s the worst that can happen?”

He took her elbow and led her to the horse’s head. “Miss Newfield, may I present Bella.” He ran a hand down the creature’s nose. “Bella, this is Miss Newfield,” he murmured as he took Anna’s gloved hand and guided it down the creature’s nose. “Unlike poor Miss Peel, she is not the least bit nervous.”

“You should not lie to her.” Anna’s voice wavered, but whether it was from the touch of the major’s hand on hers or his deep, soothing tone, she could not tell.

Again he chuckled, and a shiver, not at all displeasing, swept over her. She mentally shook it off. Why should this man’s presence have such a disconcerting effect on her? Why did his smiles mean so much to her?

LOUISE M. GOUGE

has been married to her husband, David, for forty-seven years. They have four children and seven grandchildren. Louise always had an active imagination, thinking up stories for her friends, classmates and family, but seldom writing them down. At a friend’s insistence, in 1984 she finally began to type up her latest idea. Before trying to find a publisher, Louise returned to college, earning a BA in English/creative writing and a master’s degree in liberal studies. She reworked the novel based on what she had learned and sold it to a major Christian publisher. Louise then worked in television marketing for a short time before becoming a college English/humanities instructor. She has had eleven novels published, several of which have earned multiple awards, including the 2006 Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award. Please visit her website at http://blog.Louisemgouge.com.

A Proper Companion

Louise M. Gouge

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. And if ye be Christ’s, then are ye…heirs according to the promise.

—Galatians 3:26, 28, 29

This book is dedicated to my beloved husband, David, who has stood by my side through my

entire writing career. I would also like to thank Nancy Mayer and the Beau Monde Chapter of RWA for helping with my research into the Regency era.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Blandon, Shropshire, England

October 1813

Amid the sea of somberly dressed mourners entering the vicarage, Anna spied a flash of crimson, and her grief lifted for the first time since Papá’s death three days ago. A closer look at the uniformed cavalry officer sent her emotions plunging again, for he was not Peter. But how foolish to think her brother could have returned for their father’s funeral when he was an ocean away fighting the Americans. This soldier must have come to honor Papá. This wounded soldier, for the young man of perhaps five and twenty years leaned on a cane and his red-coated companion’s arm. Anna lifted a silent prayer that the officer’s affliction was not too severe.

The parishioners approached where she stood, each person offering a word of comfort or a memory of Papá, warming Anna’s heart. Papá had been much loved, and many in his congregation would miss him as much as she. In his honor, generous neighbors had brought sprays of aromatic sage and fragrant geraniums from their autumn gardens to freshen the air in the house. The pleasant scents vied with the odors of hardworking villagers who had taken time from their harvest labors to pay their respects.

Anna bent down to kiss a small boy, and her eyes fell on the gleaming black boots of the next person in line. She straightened and found herself gazing up into the dark brown eyes of the wounded soldier.

“Miss Newfield.” The tall officer bent over his cane and his pallid countenance raised her concern, as did the scent of some pungent medicine she could not identify. “I am Edmond Grenville. Please accept my condolences for your loss.” At his elbow stood his companion, whose eyes were filled with worry.

She extended her black-gloved hand, glancing briefly at the stars on the officer’s golden epaulettes which designated his rank. Peter had taken such pride in teaching her how to distinguish one officer from another. “I thank you for coming, Major Grenville. Did you know my father?”

He winced slightly and breathed out a labored sigh.

“Should you be seated, sir?” Anna waved a hand toward a nearby chair, wishing she could sit down, as well, for although it was only late morning the weariness of the day had already begun to settle into her.

He shook his head. “No, madam, on both counts.” He inhaled deeply. “I knew of your father.”

Anna’s heart lifted. “Ah. I did not know his reputation extended beyond Blandon.” She offered a smile but saw only pain in his clouded eyes.

“Very far, miss. To America, in fact.” He glanced at his aide. The younger man nodded. “Your brother, Lieutenant Newfield—” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat impatiently.

Anna’s heart seemed to stop and her ears hummed, blocking out the sounds around her. “Yes,” she managed to murmur. “Please continue. My brother?”

The major shuddered, perhaps to shake away his weakness, for he stood taller, almost at attention. “I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Peter Newfield was wounded in battle.” His words came in a rush. “To be more precise, dear lady, he saved my life, and in the process took the sword blow meant for me. After the battle, his remains were not found, and therefore he has been declared missing.”

The room seemed to spin. The paneled walls closed around her. Tiny bursts of air fanned her face. Anna sat and blinked her burning eyes. Forced herself to breathe. What would Mamá do in this situation? Or Papá? Was Peter even now with their parents in the Savior’s presence? Was she now truly alone?

Somewhere at the edges of her mind, she heard the cry of Job: The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord. She grasped this lifeline like a drowning person. Blessed be the name of the Lord. This would be her hymn, her anthem, no matter what other sorrows befell her.

Friends hovered near. The major sat beside her and patted her hand.

“Dear Miss Newfield—”

“I thank you, sir.” Her own voice sounded far away. “For bringing word.” A tendril of hope threaded through her thoughts. “Missing, you say?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The officer leaned toward her. “You must know that I had no idea your father had died. I came to bring him word of Newfield and—”

“Missing. That means there is hope he is alive.”

Major Grenville’s expression softened, and he spoke as if addressing a child. “You must understand …” He sat back and shook his head. “Perhaps you need not know of such things.” He returned a warm gaze to her and squeezed her hand. “We will hope, madam. We will hope.”

The strength of his grip surprised Anna, as did the high color now flooding his pale face. He seemed to be making a great effort to console her, and she longed to return the kindness. “Major, the ladies of Blandon have prepared a funeral nuncheon. Will you and your companion partake?”

His brow furrowed, but his companion’s face brightened. “’Twould be good to have a bite before we embark on the rest of our journey, sir.”

The major eyed his aide. “I agree, Matthews. And I thank you, Miss Newfield. Your brother often spoke of your kind nature. I see it was not merely fraternal pride.” His well-formed face, framed by natural chestnut curls, relaxed into a soft smile.

A wave of understanding swept through Anna. Peter had risked his life to save this friend, and that knitted him to her in a way she could not describe.

* * *

Weakness and weariness threatened to fell Edmond. He tried to rise from the chair, but even his cane did not help. Matthews touched his shoulder.

“I’ll fetch you a plate, sir.” The young man left the parlor, but not before he cast a concerned glance over his shoulder.

Good man, Matthews. No officer ever had a better batman to see to his personal matters. Without his tender attention, Edmond would never have survived the illness that overtook him on the voyage from America. When the seas grew violent, Matthews had cushioned Edmond with his own body against the bulkhead—and received a mass of bruises for his efforts. Yet even Matthews’s valiant efforts did not protect Edmond’s left leg, shattered in battle when his horse fell. Now he feared he would never ride again.

Murmured conversation drew his attention back to the gentle soul seated beside him. Poor, lovely Miss Newfield. Her dark brown hair formed a pleasing contrast to her flawless ivory complexion, and her lively green eyes exuded intelligence. Newfield had not exaggerated her beauty and grace. Or her faith. How bravely she bore her losses. Perhaps he could offer some cheering words, the kind of thing he might say to his cavalry unit after a bad sortie.

Before he could frame a thought, a pudgy, frowning man dressed in black approached the lady, followed by a woman wearing an identical scowl. A protective instinct arose within Edmond’s chest.

“Miss Newfield.” The man gave her a fawning bow and oily smile. “I am Danders, Squire Beamish’s solicitor. He sends his condolences.” His face looked anything but sympathetic. “I’m sure you understand that due to the length of your father’s fatal illness, Squire Beamish has been forced to find a new cleric to minister to the good people of Blandon.” He emitted an unpleasant chuckle that made the hair on Edmond’s neck stand on end. Miss Newfield, however, remained serene. “Unfortunately, the new vicar and his family—” the solicitor glanced at the woman behind him “—seven children, wasn’t it, Mrs. Danders? At Squire Beamish’s invitation, they have all left their home in Surrey and even now are housed with us.” His voice rose in pitch to a squeaky tenor. “Seven children. Heh-heh. Seems more like two dozen.” He tugged at his collar. “So you will understand that they require the vicarage as soon as possible.” Another shrill laugh. “Today, if you please.”

Edmond found himself on his feet, leaning toward the solicitor from his own greater height. “What ails you, man, that you would intrude upon Miss Newfield’s grief in this manner?” He struggled not to address this cur with the language of the battlefield.

Danders stared up at him, wide-eyed. Then he straightened his jacket, as if Edmond had given in to the temptation to grab it and shake him senseless. “I beg your pardon, um, Major, but exactly who are you and what business is this of yours?”

“Please, Major Grenville.” Miss Newfield rose and touched his arm. “Do not trouble yourself. Just last week our village seamstress, Mrs. Brown, said I might live with her.” With a nodding glance she indicated a nearby woman, whose face now filled with dismay.

“Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Brown moved closer. “I didn’t want to tell you so soon after dear Mr. Newfield’s demise, but I’ve no room.” She wrung her handkerchief. “My widowed sister has just come with her children, you see, and she needs a place to live.”

Edmond watched with horror and amazement as this latest cannonball struck its target, for surely the young lady would crumble under this siege.

“I understand.” Dry-eyed, Miss Newfield embraced her neighbor and murmured comforting assurances. A strange light shone in her fair brown eyes, and a hint of a smile graced her lips.

Edmond prayed the barrage of bad news had not commenced to drive her mad.

“Well, then,” Mr. Danders said. “My wife will help you to gather your things, and you can be off.”

Mrs. Danders shoved her way in front of Miss Newfield. “And don’t be thinking you can run off with anything that ain’t nailed down. I have a list from Squire Beamish—” she pulled a folded paper from her large reticule “—and I know every candlestick and serviette that belongs to the parish.”

Now the young lady swayed slightly and her eyes lost their focus, as they had when Edmond had so brutishly announced her brother’s death. But he could not help her, for his own head grew light. Rage over his weakness kept him from fainting, and he leveled a glare upon Danders. The man tugged at his collar again.

“Here, sir.” Matthews was suddenly beside him, easing him back into his chair. “I’ve set a plate for you on this side table. Some nice cold meats, rolls, cheeses and pumpkin pie. The local housewives have made quite a feast.”

“Let’s get on with it, Miss Newfield.” Mrs. Danders gripped the young lady’s upper arm and dragged her toward the hallway.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Miss Newfield’s voice wavered. “Please do permit me to…”

The rest of her words were lost in the shuffling of feet as they exited the parlor door.

Edmond tried to rise and follow, but his legs betrayed him.

“Now.” Danders hovered over Edmond and adjusted the spectacles resting on his pudgy nose. “Exactly what is your business with Miss Newfield? Squire Beamish will need to know exactly what has been going on here at the vicarage. If her character is suspect—”

Once again, anger brought Edmond to his feet. “How dare you?” Mrs. Brown’s presence prevented him from speaking as he would to a scavenging mongrel. Good sense informed him that this weasel could do much harm to the young lady’s reputation. Edmond suspected he was dishonest, but had no strength to investigate the matter, at least not yet. The best course was to give Danders the information he sought. “I have just arrived to inform Miss Newfield that her brother perished in America fighting for England.”

“Ah. Well, then.” Danders waved away the news as he would a fly.

“’Tis the truth, Mr. Danders.” Mrs. Brown continued to wring her handkerchief. “The cap’n here did just arrive. And furthermore, Miss Newfield’s the soul of decency. Anyone in Blandon’ll speak for her.”

“Hmm.” Danders lifted his nose and sniffed. “Ah, the smell of nuncheon. While my wife sees to the packing, I shall see to the kitchen. The pantry and all that’s in it will of course belong to the parish.” Before Edmond could respond, Danders hurried from the room.

“Will you sit, sir?” Matthews once again helped Edmond into the chair.

Frustration closed his throat. He could not think of eating. “Matthews, follow the women. See that Mrs. Danders does not mistreat Miss Newfield. If there is a dispute over any item in this house, we will not leave until this mysterious Squire Beamish has presented himself to settle the matter.” Nor will I leave until Miss Newfield is assured of a safe place to live. It was the least he could do for the sister of the man who died to save him. And only then could he return to his family’s home and begin rebuilding his own life and health. Only then could he begin to consider God’s purpose for taking a remarkable man like Peter Newfield and leaving a scoundrel like Edmond Grenville.

Chapter Two

“This is the receipt for the storage chest.” Anna held out the paper to Mrs. Danders. “My father purchased it for me nine years ago.” She lifted a prayer of thanks for Papá’s meticulous record-keeping. Had he known she would one day have to give proof of ownership for her possessions?

The woman snatched the page from Anna’s hand. “Hmm. Could be a forgery. But no matter. The trunk was bought with church money, so it belongs to the church.” She ran a finger over the chest’s finely carved lid.

“But my father purchased it with his wages. He gave it to me as a gift.” Anna’s head felt light, and she braced herself against the bedpost. “Surely it is mine.”

“Not likely.” Mrs. Danders lifted the lid and rummaged through the contents—Anna’s summer dresses recently put away for the winter and a few linen towels she had embroidered in her younger days when she had hoped to marry. “Hmm. Nothing here of value.” She dropped the lid, allowing it to slam against the base with a clunk.

Anna jumped. Her mind refused to work. Lord, am I to lose everything?

“What about jewelry?” Mrs. Danders’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that broach you’re wearing?”

Anna clutched the silver filigree pin with a tiny sapphire set in the center. “My mother’s.” Not a lie. Papá had bought it for Mamá—with his wages.

“See here now.” Major Grenville’s man, Matthews, stuck his head in the door and aimed a glare at Mrs. Danders. “The major’ll want an accounting of what you’re up to.”

Relief flooded Anna’s heart. Answered prayer! “Thank you,” she whispered to both the young man and the Lord.

“Indeed.” Mrs. Danders balled her fists at her waist and glared back at the soldier. Then she looked about the room again. “Other than the furniture and this storage chest, there’s nothing of value here. I’ll see to those books in the parlor.” She pushed past the aide and stomped down the hallway toward the staircase.

“We should follow, miss.” Matthews waved one hand in that direction.

“Yes, of course.” Anna tried to force her mind to work but other than her frantic prayers, no sensible thoughts would form. Gone were her plans to wander from room to room in a leisurely manner recalling her family’s happy years in this vicarage. Gone were her hopes of packing away one or two mementos of her loved ones to carry with her wherever she went. She could cling only to God’s promise that He would guide and take care of her, no matter what the circumstances. And that no one could take from her.

Returning to the parlor, she found the major sitting stiffly, leaning on his cane and watching Mrs. Danders like a hawk eyeing its prey. When Anna entered the room, he stood and gave her a slight bow. Before she could insist that he sit back down, she noticed Mrs. Danders pulling books from the shelf beside Papá’s chair. No, no longer Papá’s. It all belonged to the new vicar now. Anna hoped the gentleman would appreciate this small library that Papá had bought book by book, often instead of much-needed new clothes.

The pile of books on the floor toppled over, and Papá’s Bible slid across the floor.

Anna grabbed it before Mrs. Danders could. She clutched it to her chest, fighting tears. “My father brought this with him from Oxford.”

The woman snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Keep it, then.”

Mr. Danders hurried into the parlor with Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Pitcher, the baker’s wife, hard on his heels and scolding him like magpies.

“I give that to the vicar’s wife meself.” Mrs. Pitcher pointed to the delicately painted porcelain teapot in the solicitor’s hands. “It ain’t yours. It’s Miss Newfield’s. And you’ll give it to her now, or I’ll fetch the oaken rolling pin you were so anxious to put on your list.”

“And I’ll be fetching that poker by the hearth, you old thief.” Mrs. Brown’s eyes blazed.

The two women traded a look and shook hands.

Anna’s scalp tingled. God had sent her two more defenders, and perhaps in the process repaired the ancient quarrel which had long divided them. She crossed the room and grasped their still clasped hands. “Dear ladies, please do not resort to violence. Mr. Danders is merely doing his duty in cataloguing the contents of the house.” Although she could not be certain that Mrs. Danders should be involved in the work.

Mr. Danders thrust the teapot at Mrs. Pitcher and let go. She barely had time to catch it. Muttering unintelligible words, she handed Mamá’s treasure to Anna. “There you go, m’dear.”

“Thank you.” Anna accepted the precious gift and held it close, along with the Bible, fearful of dropping them, yet just as fearful of putting either down. “Mr. Danders, I appreciate your attention to detail. Perhaps you have already settled the matter of my inheritance?” At his blank look, she hastened on. “The fifty pounds annual inheritance my father arranged through Squire Beamish?”

“What? Oh, that.” He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something bad. “No, no, my dear. You misunderstood. It wasn’t fifty pounds annual. It was fifty pounds, period. And unfortunately—” he traded a smirk with his wife “—only twenty pounds are available at present.”

Anna’s head grew light. “Only twenty?” Once again, her mind refused to work as shock overtook her. Then a memory emerged. She and Papá and Peter used to play a game, one that Mamá did not care for in the least. They called it “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Each player heaped misfortune upon an imaginary hero, all within the bounds of decency, all revealing how God could intervene and save the day. But never in their busiest imaginings had they ever burdened any fictional soul with the Job-like sorrows she had received this day. She had lost her family, her possessions and her place in the community. Now to be thrust out into the world with no place to go, she envisioned herself wandering down a muddy winter path, clutching a tattered cloth bag with her few earthly belongings, perhaps dying in a frigid snow bank on the side of the road. Picturing Peter’s playful face, she wanted to laugh. Almost.

“Ah, books.” Mr. Danders’s eyebrows arched, and he moved toward his wife. “Yes, those are worth something.”

“Hold.” Major Grenville lifted his cane across the man’s chest. “While Miss Newfield may be correct about your duty, I do not care for the manner in which you are carrying it out.”

Instead of responding, Mr. Danders stared at Anna, his narrowed eyes raking her up and down. “Hmm. We never did settle exactly who you are, did we, Major?” He removed his spectacles and wiped them on his sleeve, then returned them to his nose and swept another slow, critical gaze down Anna’s frame and up again.

She gulped down her discomfort. No one had ever looked at her in that manner, and it somehow made her feel…unclean. She quickly dismissed the implication of his evil stare, for she had no cause for shame.

The major took a step toward the shorter man. “Watch yourself, sir.” The growl in his voice sent a strange comfort shivering down Anna’s back.

Mr. Danders laughed—an awful, menacing sound. “Or?”

The major returned the man’s hard look. “As you can see, at present I am ill-fitted to follow through on any threat I may wish to make. However, my brother, Lord Greystone, will be very interested in the happenings in this corner of Shropshire, and you can be certain I shall apprise him of your actions.”

Mr. Danders’s eyes grew round again. “Lord Greystone?” The squeak returned to his voice.

“Further, sir, you will make copies of your inventory and the original list and send them to my brother without delay. Have I made myself clear?”

Mr. Danders tugged at his collar. “Yes. Very clear indeed.” He waved a hand at his wife, wordlessly ordering her to put down the books she had begun placing in a leather satchel.

“Now, Miss Newfield,” the major said, “we must decide on where you are to go. I have my brother’s carriage at your disposal. My batman and I have just come up from Portsmouth on our way to Greystone Lodge. If you would accept the hospitality of my mother, the viscountess, we can be there in a matter of five or six hours.”

Hope welled up inside of Anna. Was this the Lord’s provision? “I do not know what to say, sir. Surely your mother would not welcome an unexpected guest.”

A frown crossed his brow as he limped toward her. She met him halfway across the distance and experienced the full effects of his superior height and broad shoulders. My, what an impressive soldier he made. And yet, even one so well-equipped for his duty had been brought down by injury. Still, when he bent to speak quietly to her, her heart fluttered like a quaking sparrow.

“I received word upon landing in Portsmouth that my mother’s elderly companion has passed away.” He glanced toward the Danderses, who both stared at this innocent tête-à-tête with far too much interest. The major set a gentle hand upon her shoulder and turned her away from their prying eyes. “Mother is…she, well, hmm.” His gaze lit on the two items Anna still held, and she detected a twinkle in his eyes. “Miss Newfield, I believe you may safely put down your treasures. I will make certain they are not…misplaced.”

Warmth crept into her cheeks. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” She set the Bible and teapot on the occasional table and returned to his side. “I am deeply grieved to hear of your mother’s loss. Is there anything I can do to help?”

A note of sadness colored his soft chuckle. “What an interesting young lady you are. In the midst of your own grief, you are concerned about someone you do not even know.” His intense gaze brought more heat to her face, and she could think of no response. “Mother does not like to be alone. I would be pleased to recommend you for her new companion.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Pitcher inserted herself into the conversation. “That’s just the thing.”

“Indeed it is.” Mrs. Brown appeared at her former adversary’s elbow. “But you cannot travel alone with this gentleman.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the solicitor. “That one seems the sort who would speak ill of you just for spite.”

The major nodded his agreement. “Perhaps one of you could accompany us to Greystone Lodge. You could return by the post on the morrow. At my expense, of course.”

“Ah, ’twould be grand to see inside a viscount’s manor house.” Mrs. Pitcher sighed. “Alas, my husband cannot do without me at the bakery. Gladys, you’ll have to go.”

Mrs. Brown’s face became a progressive comedy: Surprise, skepticism, comprehension, then utter joy danced across her countenance. “Why, I can’t think of a single hindrance.”

Major Grenville smiled. Grinned, actually. “What say you, Miss Newfield?”

Anna placed a hand over her mouth as hot tears flooded her cheeks. All she could manage was a trembling nod. How good the Lord was to her. Before she called upon Him, He had already answered. Before she had known of her own need, He had already prepared a place for her. She lifted a silent prayer for the dearly departed old companion, gone to her reward.

“And now—” Mrs. Pitcher raised her voice, and all heads turned her way. “Gladys and I will help you pack, m’dear.” She glared at the solicitor. “And may the good Lord help anybody who tries to interfere.”

The two women made decisions about what to bring, for Anna could not put together a single coherent thought. They packed the wooden chest, which the major insisted belonged to her, working quickly so the travelers could reach Greystone Lodge before nightfall. All too soon the major’s carriage rumbled out of Blandon, and Anna left behind the only life she had ever known. It was all she could do not to weep aloud, even as tears blurred her vision.

No, she must not break down. Instead, she would cling to the precious promise that one day all of these trials would seem as nothing. One day she would behold the Lord, just as Papá now did…and Mamá, gone these four years…and every trial would disappear. As for Peter, she would hold out hope that he was simply missing, perhaps a prisoner of the Americans. She prayed he would be treated with kindness, just as he would treat someone kindly who was under his charge.

The Lord had left her alone for some reason. During Papá’s illness, she came to realize she must find an occupation, never mind the social prejudice against a woman of the gentry engaging in work. It would be irresponsible for her to starve to death when she could support herself and perhaps do some good in the process. If the major’s mother did not approve of her as a companion, the Lord would give her some other employment. She simply must discover what it was.

Chapter Three

Despite the carriage’s cushioned upholstery and excellent springs, Edmond felt every bump on the road to Greystone Lodge. But at least the rutted highway held none of the surprises that plagued ocean travel: sudden plunges into watery troughs or massive swells that almost capsized the ship. How good it felt to be back on land and on his way home, if he might still consider the Lodge home. Lord Greystone had always been generous to his two younger brothers and would never turn them out. But a man must establish his own residence, his own occupation. Edmond longed to return to his Oxford law studies and become a barrister, but whether or not he could do so remained to be seen. After fighting on the Continent and in America for five years, he desired peace and rest, no matter what work he must set his hands to. Surely even Mother would see he was not fit to return to war.

Ah, well, time enough to ponder those matters while he healed. For now, he must play host to the other occupants of the carriage, particularly Miss Newfield, who seemed to be struggling to contain her tears. Brave girl. For once in his life, he felt as if the hand of the Almighty had directed him. On the monthlong voyage home, he had made up his mind to deliver the news of Newfield’s heroic death in person rather than by letter. But when he came upon the vicar’s funeral and subsequent harassment of the poor young lady, he felt certain his plan had been God’s doing. Perhaps this was the first step in his quest to discover his purpose on this earth.

On the other hand, now that they were on the way to the Lodge, he was reconsidering the wisdom of bringing her home with him. Yet what else could he have done? Like a desperate act executed amidst the chaos of battle, Edmond’s offer had been the only weapon he could grasp to save Miss Newfield. And however weak a defender he might be, he could not, would not abandon her.

Of course, he must consider Mother’s reaction, but he would not think about that now. Instead, he cast about in his mind how he might engage Miss Newfield in conversation. What topic might a vicar’s daughter find interesting? In fact, what might any young lady wish to discuss? Edmond had never perfected the art. As a younger son, he had met with young ladies’ turned backs more often than the friendly faces they offered his titled eldest brother. That painful memory dampened his spirits. Like any man, he wished to marry one day, but until he established himself in a lucrative profession, no Society lady would welcome his attentions. And he could hardly blame them. Why, even a poor gentlewoman like Miss Newfield deserved a husband who could adequately support her. Had no such gentleman resided in Blandon? Surely someone had aspired to win the hand of such a fair prize. Were they of like social rank, he might be tempted to court her himself after he regained his health.

* * *

Anna’s prior experiences in wheeled conveyances were limited to clattering dog carts and bumpy hay wagons. In contrast, the viscount’s roomy carriage had cushioned velvet seats and large wheels on springs that rolled over the rutted highway more smoothly than she ever imagined. It swayed almost like a cradle, lulling her toward the solace of sleep, for she was weary in body and numbed by her many losses. But sleeping might be considered rude. In an effort to shake off her drowsiness, she took deep breaths and peered through the wide windows to view the changing scenery from fields to forests to villages and back to fields again. Harvest was underway in all parts of Shropshire, and the scents of apples and newly mown hay filled the brisk autumn air all along the route.

Mrs. Brown sat beside Anna, her knitting needles clicking softly in time with the rumbling wheels. Across from them, Matthews slumbered against the padded carriage wall. Beside him, Major Grenville grimaced from time to time, then schooled his face into a milder expression. At these brave attempts to mask his pain, Anna’s heart went out to him. Perhaps she could distract him from his misery by engaging him in conversation.

What did one say to an army officer, an aristocratic gentleman whose titled brother sat in Parliament? Should she even begin a conversation with someone of his rank? In fact, the thought of meeting such an august person as the viscount set her nerves on edge. That was nonsense, of course. Did not the scriptures teach that all were equal in Christ? But while she might believe it, she had often heard that the aristocracy and, even more, the nobility considered themselves far above other mortals. She would soon find out whether Lord Greystone and his mother, the viscountess, held that opinion. Furthermore, Anna could not guess what being a lady’s companion entailed. She hesitated to ask the major, lest such questions be deemed improper.

One subject did come to mind that she would venture to address.

“Major, would you mind—”

“Miss Newfield, are you—”

They spoke at the same time, each stopping midsentence.

“Pray continue, Miss Newfield.” He smiled and waved his hand for her to proceed.

“I thank you, sir.” Anna’s cheeks warmed at his courtesy. “I wonder if you could tell me more about my brother. He is not one to write home, although we did hear from him just after he arrived in Detroit last year.”

Instantly she regretted her question, for the major frowned and gazed out the window as if he had not heard her. After a moment, he turned back, his eyes filled with kindness.

“I met Lieutenant Newfield upon his arrival. He was a charming lad, full of good humor and laughter. You must have grown up in a merry and loving household, madam, for he always made light of any difficulty.” Pain, which she sensed was more emotional than physical, shot across his features.

“That’s our Master Peter.” Mrs. Brown looked up from her knitting, her eyes misty. “The whole village loved him in spite of his boyish pranks. The mischief was never wicked, you understand, just meant to make us laugh at ourselves. And now—” She stared down at her handiwork and fell silent.

Despair crept into Anna’s chest. Was Peter truly dead? No, she would not believe it. Missing did not mean deceased. “Please tell me more, Major.”

The gentleman’s smile seemed strained as he proceeded to recount how Peter chattered endlessly about his godly father and his “perfect” sister. She laughed and rolled her eyes, for when they were children, she had often joined her brother in his escapades.

The major’s batman awoke and joined the conversation, reporting an instance of mischief so very much like Peter. Briefly the carriage rang with laughter. Then all fell silent.

Bracing herself, Anna captured the major’s gaze. “You must tell me about that day.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes shadowed in the enclosed carriage. “A soldier does not like to admit defeat, madam, but unfortunately we were in retreat from the American forces. A company of their foot soldiers attacked our cavalry, and Providence was on their side. My horse was shot from under me.” He winced, and Anna sensed the creature had meant much to him. “Or, I should say, on top of me. My left leg was beneath him, so of course I could not move. Several of the enemy regarded me as an easy target. One raised his saber to strike.” He sucked in his cheeks and looked out the window for a moment. “Lieutenant Newfield threw himself across me. I heard him cry out.” He paused as if reliving the scene, then shook it off. “That is the last thing I recall. I awoke in a field hospital some days later. No one could answer my queries about your brother. No one saw him after the battle.”

Anna swallowed hard and forcefully dismissed the despair threatening to seize her. “Missing does not mean dead. Even if I never hear from him, I shall trust that God spared him. That he is somewhere in America recovering from his wounds.” She tried to soften the strain in her voice, but could not. “Whyever would the Lord create such a good, gallant soul only to take him away from those who love and need him?” She stared about her small circle of companions, beseeching someone to explain the mind of God.

Beside her, Mrs. Brown sniffed. Matthews would not meet her gaze. The major reached out to touch her hand. “Indeed, dear lady, whyever would He?”

* * *

The sun touched the treetops and then sank behind their foliage before the carriage rolled up the long drive to Greystone Lodge. In the fading daylight, Edmond could see Greystone’s banner raised on the flagpole above the pointed roof of the old brick manor house, announcing His Lordship was at home. After his three-year absence, Edmond felt both his anticipation and his anxiety grow with every mile. Yet his guest now wore a serene expression, as if unconcerned about the coming interview. He found it interesting that she had used their travel time to ask about Peter rather than the woman who would be her employer, if all went well. But then, no doubt she was still numb from the tragic news her day had brought. Edmond prayed she would receive no further shocks—now or ever.

* * *

The fading daylight shadowed the massive stone building as the carriage rolled up to the half-circle drive at the front entrance. In spite of the conveyance’s roominess, Anna’s legs felt cramped from the long drive, but she had no doubt the major’s discomfort was far more intense. Still, he did not complain as they disembarked.

Grooms and servants appeared, and soon the small party found themselves in the manor house’s large drawing room. There the major leaned on his cane and gazed about the room, a soft smile gracing his lean, handsome face. How good it must be for him to return to his childhood home, which now belonged to his brother, the viscount.

Anna experienced a pang of sorrow, for she would never see her own home again. Indeed, she had no home. She quickly cast aside the thought, relishing instead the scent of roses wafting from an arrangement on a nearby side table and admiring the lovely furnishings that filled the room: plush velvet chairs and settees, portraits of noble ancestors, bisque figurines and heavy draperies. She had never beheld such elegance. Mrs. Brown’s wide-eyed perusal of their surroundings revealed that she was likewise awestruck.

A middle-aged butler strode into the room and announced, “Lady Greystone.”

Anna’s heart jolted. The moment had come. She straightened and squeezed Mrs. Brown’s hand. Her friend returned the gesture and whispered good wishes.

A slender woman of medium height entered the room. Her dark grey hair was arranged in curls around her thin face, softening what some might consider hawk-like features. Anna noted her resemblance to Major Grenville and wondered whether the woman possessed his generous disposition as well.

“Edmond.” The woman marched toward her son, her gloved right hand extended. “Welcome home.” Despite her words of greeting, her tone rang with formality.

“Mother.” Major Grenville bowed and kissed her offered hand. “You look well.”

“Humph. What else would you say to me?” She stepped back and viewed him up and down. “You, on the other hand, do not look well at all.” She reached up and gripped his chin, turning his head one way, then the other, and emitted another disagreeable harrumph. “Still, you will live to serve another day.”

Anna’s heart sank. When Peter returned to her, she would embrace him and shower him with sisterly kisses and loving affirmation. How could this woman be so cold to her wounded son who had sailed across the ocean to fight for England?

Major Grenville gave her a warm smile. “Just so, Mother, if they want a cavalry officer who may not be able to ride as he once did.”

Yet another harrumph from the lady. “Nonsense. They would not dare to turn down Greystone’s brother. I shall see to it.”

Anna’s mind spun as she observed the woman’s attitude. Even Mrs. Brown must be shocked, for she gasped softly.

Lady Greystone’s head whipped around in their direction, and her dark, elegant eyebrows rose. “Who on earth are these creatures? How dare you bring them into my drawing room?” She eyed the major briefly before stepping over to Anna and glaring at her up and down through the single lens of her quizzing glass. “And just what is this one to you?”

The major limped forward, worry creasing his forehead. “Mother, forgive me, but when I read your letter about Miss Peel’s demise, I knew you would be searching for a new companion. This young lady is a vicar’s daughter and—”

“How dare you?” The viscountess turned her quizzing glass toward him with a fierce glare. “Do you think you can just snatch up some dowdy creature from the roadside and bring her through my front door into my drawing room to be my companion?” Her angry stare returned to Anna.

“You.” She sneered as if Anna smelled bad, and stepped back as one would from a victim of the plague. “Take your servant and get out.”

Chapter Four

“Wait.” Edmond leaned on Matthews’s arm and limped after Mother. “Madam, I beg your indulgence. This is no stranger from the side of the road.” He swallowed hard, wondering how much longer he could remain on his feet. “Miss Newfield’s brother saved my life and died in the process.” He glanced at the young woman, who winced at his words. He despised dashing her hopes that her brother might yet live. But Mother would respond better to a brave soldier’s death than to one who simply remained missing. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the outrage on Mrs. Brown’s plump face. If the woman spoke up to her betters, all would be lost.

He hastened to fill in the silence as Mother’s stare continued to rake the young woman up and down through her quizzing glass. “As I said, she is a vicar’s daughter of flawless reputation.”

Mother’s head snapped toward Edmond and then back toward Miss Newfield. “Indeed.”

“Yes, madam.” He sent Miss Newfield and her companion a warning frown indicating that he would speak for them. “And Mrs. Brown is a renowned and much-in-demand seamstress in her town, yet she took time from her work to accompany her friend for propriety’s sake.” At the compliment, Mrs. Brown’s angry flush softened to a pleased blush.

“Hmm.” Mother’s slender eyebrows, always an indicator of her mood, lowered from their aristocratic arch. She tapped her quizzing glass against her chin, then circled Miss Newfield as a man might circle a horse he was appraising. “Hmm,” she repeated. “Do you read, gel?”

Miss Newfield executed a perfect curtsey. “Yes, Lady Greystone. English, French and Latin.” For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Edmond noticed her flawless diction. Where had she learned to speak so well?

Mother’s eyebrows arched again, this time in surprise. “Indeed?” She harrumphed. “Educated by your father, I suppose.”

Ah, yes. Edmond recalled the incident with the vicar’s Bible brought from Oxford, where all Greystone sons had attended school. Another connection with the Newfield family formed in his mind, but he would wait to mention that to Mother.

“Yes, my lady.” Miss Newfield’s demeanor was everything proper in tone and posture, at once both confident and deferential.

Edmond felt a surge of pride, as if she were one of his soldiers who had met the approval of a superior. Pride, and perhaps a hint of affection such as he felt for Matthews.

“Are you a bluestocking?” Mother’s contempt for those women was evident in her haughty tone.

“I—I…” Miss Newfield glanced at Edmond, her head tilted in a pretty, questioning pose.

“Mother, I doubt the Bluestocking Literary Society meets in such a small village as Blandon.”

Understanding filled Miss Newfield’s eyes, and she gave Edmond a grateful smile. A strange feeling filled his chest. Once again he had found a way to help the young lady, and it gave him every bit as much satisfaction as winning a battle.

“Humph.” Mother came close to sneering. “Who are your people?”

Miss Newfield’s poise remained intact. “My lady, my father was the second son of a gentleman whose grandfather was knighted by Her Majesty Queen Anne.”

“And your father chose to bury himself in a remote village? Could he not obtain a better living through influential friends?”

“I do not know, my lady. But his people loved him.”

Mrs. Brown mumbled her agreement, but Mother appeared not to hear her and continued to stare at Miss Newfield.

“Well.” She shot a glance at Edmond. “We shall see if she suits.” She turned toward him. “I will forgive you for bringing servants into my drawing room because of these unusual circumstances. This one may help you.” She waved a hand at Matthews. “But only as long as you require his assistance. That one—” a sniff toward Mrs. Brown “—renowned seamstress or not, will remain in the servants’ quarters.” She strode to the bell pull beside the marble hearth and gave it a yank. “You will be in your old chambers. Mrs. Dobbins will assign a room to Miss Newman…Newmarket—”

“Newfield.” Edmond recognized his mother’s method of putting people in their places. That was her way, as if she alone guarded the social order of England. Clearly, she thought the great-granddaughter of a knight, whose descendants received no title or lands, did not warrant any amount of attention or respect.

“Yes,” she drawled. “I shall grant Newfield a time of trial. Should she prove inadequate, she will be sent away. Should she attempt to raise herself above her station, she will be turned out.”

Edmond saw alarm flicker in the young woman’s eyes, followed by a glint of courage as she recovered by force of will. The sight heartened him. She would need that strength in this house. “And her pay?”

Mother sniffed. “Pay? Humph. Her needs will be met. That is sufficient.”

Edmond ground his teeth at her stinginess. Nothing ever changed here. One would think he had gone out the front door just this morning and been in America for only a day.

Miss Newfield, however, curtseyed to his mother again. “Thank you, my lady. I am grateful.”

Mother reached out and lifted Miss Newfield’s chin. “Hmm. Your eyes are clear, your posture acceptable. Perhaps your youthful energies will be a welcome diversion. Peel never had energy. Do you ride, gel?”

“No, my lady.” Her tone held even.

Once again, Edmond’s approval soared. This gentlewoman was not easily intimidated.

“You will learn. Greystone’s groom will teach you,” Mother pronounced, then peered over her shoulder at Edmond.

He gave her his best smile. Unfortunately, it felt more like a grimace.

“Oh, do retire, Edmond, before you drop on my drawing room floor. I shall have supper sent up.”

“If you do not mind, madam, I should like to see Greystone.” Somehow he would manage to hold on if his eldest brother was about the manor house.

“He is out seeing to his tenants. I do not expect him back soon.”

“Permit me, sir.” Matthews nudged Edmond toward the door.

“Very well. In the morning, then.” With more than a little reluctance, Edmond gave his apologies and left Miss Newfield to the care of his mother, Lady Greystone, whom he and his brothers had sometimes referred to as Lady Gorgon when they were boys.

* * *

Anna watched Major Grenville and his batman move toward the drawing room door, her heart sinking lower with his every step. Upon their exit, the room seemed to grow colder. As if she shared the same sensation, Mrs. Brown moved closer, her plump arm cushioning Anna’s trembling one. Anna prayed her friend would not speak up to Lady Greystone, or speak at all, lest she cause an offense.

The people of Blandon had little to do with the aristocracy. Even Squire Beamish, a mere gentleman, rarely visited the village, although he was responsible for its care. Such neglect gave the denizens of the area a sense of independence, which Anna could now see had resulted in a certain ignorance about how to behave around the wellborn.

In truth, she herself knew very little about such manners except what her mother had taught her. But instinct kept her from addressing her new employer, who stood with arms crossed, tapping her foot on the colorful woven carpet that lay in front of the gleaming white marble hearth. Within minutes, a woman of perhaps fifty years entered the room, her footfalls making no sound on the wooden floor.

“Yes, Lady Greystone?” The woman wore a simple black woolen dress, and her greying brown hair was pulled severely into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her posture was rigid, her face an expressionless mask.

“This is Mrs. Dobbins, my housekeeper.” Lady Greystone glanced at Anna. “Mrs. Dobbins, this is Newfield, my new companion. You will give her Peel’s room.”

“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Dobbins beckoned to Anna. “If you please, miss.” Her slight nod to Mrs. Brown was an order to follow her, as well.

Following the housekeeper, Anna wondered if she should offer some parting words of gratitude to Lady Greystone, but a glance over her shoulder revealed the viscountess making her own exit through a different door, which had been opened by a blue uniformed footman Anna had mistaken for a statue.

In the manor house’s front entryway, Mrs. Dobbins’s rigid posture relaxed considerably even as she retained a dignified carriage. So even the most powerful servant in the house feared Lady Greystone. Anna would not try to guess what challenges lay ahead. She prayed only that she would not disappoint Major Grenville and that his kindness to her would not cause a problem between him and his mother.

“Oh, Anna dear.” Mrs. Brown gazed around the large, dimly lit chamber. “Such a grand house, but there don’t seem to be much happiness here.”

“If you please.” Mrs. Dobbins gave Mrs. Brown a scorching look. “Servants do not speak unless addressed.”

“I ain’t no servant—”

Anna set a hand on her friend’s arm. “Thank you, Mrs. Dobbins. I am certain we have much to learn.”

“Just so, miss.” The woman began her ascent up the gracefully curved marble staircase. Her gnarled hands gripped the dark oak banister, and she pulled herself up each step.

Anna’s heart went out to the woman. It appeared her knees gave her much pain, as Father’s had toward the end of his life. Had Major Grenville experienced as much difficulty climbing this staircase with his wounded leg? Perhaps both would benefit from willow bark.

At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Dobbins indicated a long hallway on the right. “Do not enter that wing. Lord Greystone’s chambers are there, as are his brothers’. Follow me.” She marched stiffly down another hall, stopping at a wide white door. “This is Lady Greystone’s suite. You must not enter unless summoned.” Continuing on, she came to a smaller door across the hall. “Here is your room, miss.”

She led them inside where Anna gazed around in wonder. The chamber was half again larger than her old room at the vicarage. The furnishings were elegant but not lavish, with everything she would require to be comfortable: a four-poster bed covered with a green counterpane, a mahogany wardrobe and a wingchair. In addition, a tall window—or perhaps it was a door—promised sunny mornings, for she guessed it to be on the east side of the house. What more could she ask for?

“I will have your baggage brought up,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “If Lady Greystone wishes you to dine with the family tonight, she will send word. I shall send up supper if she does not ask for you.” She listed more rules of the house and imparted other essential information, while Anna wondered how she would remember it all.

After a tearful embrace, Anna said goodbye to Mrs. Brown. The dear lady would depart by early post the next morning, leaving Anna bereft of all she had ever known.

No, not bereft. In the scriptures, the Lord said He would never leave her nor forsake her. She would rest in that promise. And perhaps if she could see Major Grenville’s friendly smile from time to time, it would give her the strength to carry on in her new life.

Chapter Five

Edmond awoke to the midday sun streaming through the double glass doors leading to his balcony. He had slept long and well for the first time in years. No narrow army cots in tents that failed to keep out wind and rain. No ships’ berths on rolling seas. No lumpy mattresses in wayside inns. Amazing what one night of good rest could do for a man.

Across the room Matthews dozed in a chair, his uniform in surprisingly tidy condition. Had he risen early and made himself presentable in anticipation of Edmond’s needs?

As if his thoughts had sent out a signal, Matthews jerked awake and rubbed his eyes. “’Morning, sir.” He stood, tugged at his red jacket and lifted his eyebrows expectantly. “Good sleep?”

“Good, indeed.” Edmond stretched and yawned. “I suppose Greystone’s already had his morning ride.” He still was not certain he could ride, but he would attempt it to spend time with his brother away from the house.

Matthews chuckled. “Aye, sir. Twice.”

“Huh?” Edmond threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up his dressing gown. “What do you mean?” A few odd aches reminded him of his injuries, but not nearly as painfully as on the long trip home.

“You’ve slept since we arrived evening before last, sir.”

“What?” Edmond surrendered to the news by plopping back on the bed with a hearty laugh. Just as quickly, he shot to his feet, swaying a bit as he regained his balance. “What news of Miss Newfield?” More precisely, how had Mother treated her?

“Not much, sir. Below stairs says Lady Greystone hasn’t summoned her yet, so she’s kept to her room.”

“Uh-oh. Not good.” Edmond ran his hands over his face. “Let’s get me presentable so I can go find out what’s what.”

While Matthews called for water and laid out fresh clothing, Edmond opened the doors and stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The familiar meadows and distant woods dappled with autumn colors sent a vague pang of longing through him. He inhaled a deep breath of the crisp October air to bring his thoughts more into focus. Despite Mother’s sternness, she was not a beast. Nor was she forgetful. So why would she leave Miss Newfield in her room all this time? Old Miss Peel had been permitted to wander the house and grounds at will when Mother had no need of her companionship. Perhaps the young lady did not understand her privileges. Edmond slapped his forehead. He had indeed failed her by not informing her of what would be expected.

His gaze strayed toward the east wing of the L-shaped manor house, and something jolted in his chest. There stood Miss Newfield on her balcony, her black mourning weeds blowing about her in the mild wind. Across the distance he could not quite make out the expression on her fair face, but her straight posture gave no indication of misery. Considering what he had witnessed of her character so far, he should have had more faith in her ability to cope, no matter what the circumstances.

She turned his way and lifted a hand to wave at him. Now he could make out a smile, and he waved back. Admiration and satisfaction filled him. She was faring well in spite of her solitude. He could ask for nothing more.

* * *

Anna wondered whether she had erred by waving first, but in her happiness at seeing Major Grenville, her hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Apparently he did not find her greeting inappropriate, for his broad smile reflected her own. Then, noticing that his dark red clothing was not his uniform but a dressing gown, heat rushed to her cheeks. Perhaps aristocrats had different customs regarding what was appropriate to wear out of doors. She offered a tentative parting wave and returned to her bedchamber.

Her foolishness struck her immediately, for her balcony seemed an extension of this room. No doubt the major felt the same way about his childhood quarters, so of course he would step outside upon waking. Had she not done the same thing these two mornings? She prayed his smile was an indicator that his health was already improving.

Taking a seat in the upholstered wingchair beside the bed, she picked up Papá’s Bible and resumed a search she had begun the day before. Surely some scriptural example could help her discover how to be useful in this household, but until she understood her employer, she could not be certain her actions would be appropriate. Lady Greystone had not sent for her, and Mrs. Dobbins had made it clear she was not to leave until summoned. Thus she had remained in the room, reading her Bible and praying for Lady Greystone, Lord Greystone, kind Major Grenville and all of the dear people she had left behind. And of course Peter, healing somewhere in the vast wilderness called America.

“Miss Newfield?” The call through her door was followed by a scratch, and she set aside her Bible to cross the chamber and open the door.

“Good morning, Johnson.” Anna gave the butler a welcoming smile. Other than the little chambermaid who brought hot water each morning, he was the only person she had seen, and only when he brought her meals. But this time he brought no tray, and Anna’s stomach rumbled a quiet protest.

“Lady Greystone requires your presence in the breakfast room.” The man’s formal facade never wavered. “If you would follow me, please.”

“Oh, yes.” Excitement, gratitude…and a hint of fear…swept through Anna. At last she would learn about her duties. “Thank you.” She felt a mad impulse to ask the butler whether her appearance was acceptable, but refrained.

Johnson started down the hallway, but uncertainty drew Anna to the long mirror on her wardrobe door for a quick inspection. She touched the high collar of her black bombazine gown and checked the tidiness of her hair, which was pulled into a soft bun a little less severe than Mrs. Dobbins’s. Mamá’s silver and sapphire pin was her only adornment, but at the last moment she removed it and stored it in the drawer of her dressing table, lest it be considered improper for mourning.

She hurried out of her room, but the butler had vanished. Walking in the direction he had gone, she hoped memory served correctly and she would find the front stairway around the corner. Her weariness two nights ago had prevented her from making sufficient mental notes about her surroundings, which would be humorous under other circumstances. But she certainly did not wish to get lost in this great house.

She turned the corner and entered a broad space that indeed led to the stairs. Relieved, she strode across the patterned runner, hoping to see the butler descending the staircase.

“Miss Newfield.”

The call came from her left. She turned to see Major Grenville walking slowly toward her, cane in hand and Matthews at his side. The major’s color had greatly improved, as had his posture. His uniform of a red jacket and white breeches appeared spotless. Morning light shone through tall windows across from the landing and glinted off his black boots, which were polished to a brilliant sheen. As he came near, she was reminded of his height, and her awe increased. What a fine-looking soldier. With some difficulty, she tamped down the giddiness stirring within her as he approached.

“Major Grenville, how well you look.”

“As do you.” His smile gladdened her heart. “What do you think of the Lodge? Has anyone taken you out to see the gardens and the park yet?”

“I, um…” As they walked side by side to the wide staircase and began their descent, Anna searched for a response that would not cast aspersions on his mother. “Lady Greystone has just now sent for me and—”

“So it’s true?” He stopped suddenly and seemed about to pitch forward.

“Easy, sir.” Matthews was beside him, ready to assist.

Anna stopped, too, and heat rushed to her cheeks. But what else could she have said?

The major leaned toward her, frowning. “I heard you haven’t been summoned from your room since we arrived.” Standing two steps above her, he seemed even more formidable. “That’s outrageous.”

Under his scrutiny, Anna drew in a bracing breath and somehow managed a light laugh. “I am certain Lady Greystone understood my need to recover from the journey. You cannot imagine how I appreciated the opportunity to rest.”

He relaxed a bit and his frown slowly faded, replaced by a sad smile. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” He resumed his descent and she fell in beside him. “In fact, I’ve slept these two days myself.”

“Ah. Then you do feel better?”

By the time they reached the ground floor, their conversation had shifted to the safe topic of weather and hopes of spending time outside in the sunshine before winter closed in.

“Perhaps you can begin your riding lessons.” The major’s firm, well-formed lips quirked up on one side, and one eyebrow lifted. He was teasing her, just as Peter used to do, and her heart skipped.

In response, she shuddered comically. “And perhaps not.”

His laughter echoed throughout the hall just as they reached a door a footman held open for them. Anna surmised it was the breakfast room, for the aromas of coffee, sausages, eggs and freshly baked bread greeted her senses in the most pleasant way. Her stomach registered its request for satisfaction, and she hoped no one could hear. As she, the major and Matthews entered, the inhabitants seated at the dining table turned as one. Two gentlemen stood and offered enthusiastic greetings to the major.

“Here comes the hero.” The man at the head of the table, surely the viscount, strode toward them. As tall as the major and equally well-proportioned, he might have been a twin save for his sky-blue eyes.

“Brother.” The second man, almost a triplet except for his lighter brown hair, also approached him. “Welcome home.” Anna assumed this gentleman was the cleric Major Grenville had spoke of during their journey.

Lady Greystone, seated at the foot of the table, regarded them through her quizzing glass. “It is past time you put in an appearance, Edmond.” Her stare landed briefly on Anna, and her lips curled up with distaste before she turned back to her youngest son. “What, pray tell, did you find so humorous before you entered the room?”

* * *

Edmond ignored Mother’s question, choosing instead to plunge into the embrace of his two older brothers. “Greystone. Richard.” Much backslapping and many endearing insults ensued while the brothers reestablished the bond that had been their lifeline since they were boys. Separated by mere fourteen-month intervals, they now appeared very near the same age, or so it seemed to Edmond.

“So, Greystone, what news from Parliament? Have you saved the country from the French yet?”

The viscount waved away the question. “You first. You must tell us about the war in America.”

“Only after I congratulate Richard for his ordination.” With the hope that no one would ask him about the war again, at least not in Miss Newfield’s company, Edmond clapped a hand on his middle brother’s shoulder. “Do you have a living yet?”

Richard glanced in Mother’s direction. “Um, well—”

“Never mind,” Edmond murmured. No doubt Mother was directing Richard’s appointments as she did his own. “You can tell me later.”

“Yes, well.” Greystone gripped Edmond’s arm. “Richard, you must present our baby brother to our new sister.”

“Ah, I’d heard that you married.” Edmond followed Richard to the table, where a pretty and very expectant young lady stood, a light blush coloring her pale cheeks. “Mary, may I present my brother Edmond of His Majesty’s Royal Dragoons.”

“Mrs. Grenville.” Edmond bent over her offered hand, while she dipped an unsteady curtsey and then leaned against Richard. The tender look that passed between them sent a strange longing through Edmond, even as he rejoiced in his brother’s happiness. “What a lovely addition to our family. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Major. You must call me Mary.”

“And I am Edmond.” He glanced at Mother, who sat observing the melee with her usual imperious facade. Was she pleased at the prospect of her first grandchild? He walked around the table and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, madam.”

“Humph.” While she did not rebuff him, she also did not return his kiss. “Sit down and eat. The sooner you regain your strength, the sooner you can return to duty.”

Not if he could sell his commission and resume his study of law. “Yes, madam.” As he moved toward his assigned seat where he had eaten many a meal while growing up, he noticed Miss Newfield still standing by the door. Remembering Mother’s neglect, he started to invite the young lady to the table.

“Come, come, Newfield.” Mother whipped her hand in the air, summoning her and indicating her place adjacent to the foot of the table in one gesture. “Here beside me.”

“Yes, my lady.” Miss Newfield’s voice was strong and confident. With a grace worthy of an aristocrat, she sat in the chair pulled out by the footman. Once again Edmond experienced no shame for bringing the lady to his mother, for she had not cowered in the midst of the family chaos. Seated beside her, he offered a smile, to which she responded in kind.

When a footman brought serving dishes, Edmond saw the hesitation in the lady’s eyes. Directing the man with a tilt of his head, he demonstrated how to serve his own plate. She followed suit, smiling her appreciation of the silent lesson. During their journey he had learned of her limited experience with servants, so he must look for opportunities to inform her of how to accept their service.

“This is my new companion,” Mother said amidst the flurry of breakfast being distributed around the table. “Her name is Newfield.” She took a sip of coffee. “Now, today I should like—”

The door opened and Johnson brought in the mail on a silver tray. He paused and glanced between Mother and Greystone, then carried the tray to the viscount. Edmond guessed the senior servants were often confused when Greystone was in residence, for Mother had ruled the house since Father had died some twenty-three years ago. When Greystone reached his majority six years ago, other than his entering Parliament, nothing changed. But then, Edmond’s eldest brother had always been an agreeable fellow, taking Mother’s dominance in stride.

When Johnson delivered the tray to Greystone, Edmond experienced a hint of satisfaction. Then a hint of shame. Scripture instructed a man to honor his parents, but it was rarely an easy task with Mother.

“Ah, good news.” Greystone held up a letter. “Uncle Grenville is coming for a visit. Should arrive the first week in November.”

“What?” Mother set down her coffee cup with a clink. “How dare he invite himself—”

“Not at all.” Greystone raised a hand to stop her. “I invited him.”

“You invited him?” Mother breathed out an angry sigh. “Well, then, I suppose I have no say in the matter.”

Edmond seized a bite of bread to keep from cheering. Perhaps Greystone was at last taking his rightful place as head of the family.

Greystone did not respond, but Richard, ever the peacemaker, leaned toward Mother. “You began to tell us your plans for the day. Is there any way Mary and I may help?”

Mother answered with one of her impatient “harrumphs,” and everyone fell to eating with no further comments.

Edmond’s thoughts darted here and there with unreasoning emotion not far behind. Perhaps Uncle Grenville’s visit was an answered prayer, if one could call a man’s fervent hopes a prayer. Father’s younger brother was a London barrister, Edmond’s desired profession. He had begun his law studies at Oxford until Mother insisted upon his joining the dragoons. How little she knew about her youngest son, for he would far rather face courtroom battles than the military sort. But the prospect of gaining his uncle’s patronage sent hope bubbling up in Edmond’s chest, and he coughed to clear his throat rather than choke on a bite of sausage.

Eyebrows lifted, Miss Newfield glanced his way as if trying to discern his distress. He returned a small shrug to dismiss her concern, adding a slight grin to show his appreciation. In every way this young woman exuded kindness, and he prayed Mother would not destroy her gentle spirit.

* * *

“Newfield.” Lady Greystone’s sharp tone cut into the silence that had descended upon the breakfast table. “Your mourning attire is incomplete.”

Anna glanced down at her dull black bombazine gown, but resisted touching her hair to see if any strands had escaped their pins. “Forgive me, my lady. I will be happy to—”

“Your black bonnet will do for out of doors, but when you are indoors you must wear a black lace or crepe scarf.” Lady Greystone eyed her briefly before returning to her eggs. “I shall have Hudson find something for you.”

Anna had yet to meet Hudson, but she knew her to be Lady Greystone’s lady’s maid. “I thank you—”

“This afternoon we will make our rounds of the village. Wear your walking shoes.” Her perpetual frown deepened. “You do have walking shoes?”

“Yes, my lady.” Anna’s heart lifted. Perhaps she would find people to whom she could minister in the village, as she had in Blandon.

“Edmond, you will accompany us.” The viscountess eyed her son as if daring him to decline.

The major did not respond immediately, but at last said, “It will be my pleasure.”

Relief and concern vied to dominate Anna’s thoughts. How good it would be to have the major along, but only if he could manage the walk. A quick glance in his direction revealed a clenched jaw, thinned lips and eyes focused on his nearly empty plate. In her short acquaintance with him, she had noticed this response when a situation met his disapproval. Surely his mother would be sympathetic to his pain, should the outing prove too arduous.

“If you please, madam.” Seated across the table from Anna, Mary Grenville gave Lady Greystone a hopeful smile. “May I accompany you as well?”

Anna could see the longing in the young woman’s eyes. Was she a kindred spirit with a desire to minister to the less fortunate?

“Nonsense.” Lady Greystone spread a thin layer of strawberry preserves on a piece of bread. “Over that rocky terrain in your condition? I’ll not lose my grandson to your whimsy.”

Disappointment clouded Mary’s face. Richard reached over to squeeze his wife’s hand. “Never mind, my darling. We’ll take a turn or two around the gallery after breakfast.”

At the other end of the table Lord Greystone and Major Grenville talked in low tones. Yet without any effort, Anna heard the major say “Newfield,” “saber” and “no doubt killed.”

“What are you discussing?” Frowning, Lady Greystone eyed her sons.

The two men exchanged a look Anna could not discern. Then Lord Greystone glanced at Anna before he addressed his mother. “Edmond was just telling me about the gallant officer who saved his life and, um, was—” He cleared his throat. “Miss Newfield’s brother.”

“Hmm. Oh, yes.” Lady Greystone dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I believe you mentioned that the other evening.” She, too, glanced at Anna. “Clearly the man knew his duty.”

Tears threatened, so Anna pulled in a deep, quiet breath, even managing a nod toward the viscountess. But she studiously avoided the sympathy she’d seen emanating from Major Grenville’s handsome face, for his kindness could prove her undoing.

Chapter Six

The mid-October breeze was brisk and biting, but nothing like the North Atlantic winds that had buffeted the ship bringing Edmond home to England. With his cape drawn close around him and his hat firmly in place, he fended off the chills that had plagued him during the voyage. But he did lean heavily on his cane and Matthews’s arm while trying to avoid dips in the uneven ground, all the while endeavoring not to grunt with every painful step.

Ahead, basket in hand, Mother marched along the woodland path with Miss Newfield striding along behind her like a good soldier, another basket over her arm. The young lady possessed a carriage much like her brother’s, yet in every way feminine, an elegant posture devoid of arrogance, her chin held high, as if she was looking forward to reaching her destination. Occasionally she glanced back and smiled, although her eyes expressed her concern for Edmond.

Under her kind scrutiny, he refused to falter. Instead, by force of will, he gazed at the pale blue sky and the brilliantly hued trees showing off their autumn colors. The leafy, musty scents of the forest filled his senses, reminding him of childhood games with his brothers. Mother had never permitted her sons to fight or even wrestle, but hidden from her and their tutor among these trees, they could wrestle as much as they liked. And it was here they imagined many adventures to come. Yet how differently each of their lives had turned out.

The little village had not changed. From the farrier’s cluttered stable to the shopkeeper’s tidy window displays, not a horseshoe or bonnet seemed to have moved. Only the children appeared different. The lads who’d once chased each other about the rutted street were no doubt in school or working in the fields beside their fathers, and their youngest brothers now stirred up the lane with their dusty games. The sameness of Greystone Village, which used to bore Edmond, now awoke a longing within his heart. Despite their unremarkable lives, these country folk had a certain security which seemed to define their character. They grew up knowing where they belonged and what they would do with their lives, whereas uncertainty had plagued Edmond since he first realized he would have to find his own way in the world.

Not until he began his law studies at Oxford had he discovered his true passion. But Mother had decided law was an inferior profession for the youngest brother of a viscount. When she learned that Arthur Wellesley, an earl’s fourth son, had received his own title, political prestige and a vast fortune during his service in India, she declared that Edmond must obtain an officer’s commission in the army. She paid for it herself, less a generous gesture than simply another means of controlling one of her sons. He’d had two choices: accept her offer or become dependent upon his eldest brother’s charity.

Of course Edmond rebelled, but after a misspent Season in London for which he still felt much guilt and had many regrets, his godly middle brother had brokered a truce. A surrender, actually, for Edmond had capitulated to all of Mother’s demands. But although he had managed to pay off his gambling debts, his service in America had brought neither fortune nor prestige, only wounds that matched the scars on his soul.

“What a charming village.” Miss Newfield gazed about the scene as if surveying some grand garden. “So like Blandon in every way.”

“What?” Mother stopped her march and turned to glare at her.

Edmond caught up in time to see a slight blush touch the young lady’s cheeks. “Indeed? I suppose most English villages boast the same quaint scenery.” He hoped his cheerful tone would diminish her discomfort.

“We are not here to chitchat.” Mother resumed her march, not stopping until she reached a tiny redbrick house where smoke curled from the chimney. “Humph. A fire at midday in October? Such a waste.”

Edmond gritted his teeth. He would not be able to remain silent if she scolded the dear old pensioner who lived here, the woman who had been nurse to him and his brothers, supplying the love lacking from their only parent. While Richard had been the old woman’s favorite and no doubt the reason for his penchant for spiritual matters, Edmond and Greystone had adored her, too. If Mother refused to supply wood for her hearth, he would find a way to do it himself.

* * *

Cheered by Major Grenville’s pleasant rejoinder, Anna shrugged off her dismay over Lady Greystone’s reproach. Clearly she must not comment on anything unless asked. But, oh, how hard that would be when so many things sparked her interest, from the squirrels gathering acorns in the woods to the children playing outside the wood frame houses. Still, if she wished to be the best possible companion to the lady, performing her duties heartily as unto the Lord, then she must learn to remain silent.

Lady Greystone stopped at a singular brick house amongst the wooden ones and ordered the major to knock. Curiosity seized Anna. Who lived here, and why did they deserve such a superior, albeit small dwelling? She gave the major a questioning glance and was startled to see anger in his eyes. He looked her way and the anger disappeared, replaced by a wry grin and accompanied by a shrug.

The door was opened by an elderly, black-clad gentleman. The light in his pale blue eyes reminded Anna of Papá. In fact, his entire facade and bearing resembled a man of God.

Lady Greystone stepped back. “Mr. Partridge.” She peered beyond him into the dimly lit room. “Has Mrs. Winters—”

“No, no, madam.” The gentleman emitted a scratchy chuckle. “She is well enough for her many years.”

The major leaned toward Anna to mouth “the vicar.”

A bittersweet pang tore through her, but she forced a smile. Her intuition had been correct. But did he live here? Was this humble dwelling the vicarage? The church stood at the far end of the village, whereas her father’s church had been next door to their home. And she could not think a wealthy peer such as Lord Greystone would house his clergyman so meanly.

“Well,” Lady Greystone huffed. “Will you grant me entrance or not?”

“Of course, madam.” The vicar gave her a slight bow. The warmth in his eyes as he moved back revealed a respect uncluttered by trepidation.

The party moved into the room, except for Matthews, who waited outside.

“Now, Winters.” Lady Greystone approached a grey-haired woman hunched into an upholstered armchair. “What’s all this? Have you called the vicar for last rites?”

Anna could detect no kindness in Lady Greystone’s tone, but like the vicar, the old woman smiled without fear. Anna deposited the observation in her memory to consider later.

“No, my lady. Just holy communion. I cannot travel the distance to the church, so he brings it to me.”

Once again Anna felt a sweet pang of remembrance. Papá used to offer the same service to his elderly parishioners. Perhaps her emotions showed on her face, for Major Grenville gently squeezed her elbow as if he understood.

“Of course. Just as he should.” Lady Greystone sat in the straight-backed chair next to the old woman and set her basket on a battered side table. “Now, I have brought you some of Cook’s apple tarts, bread and lamb stew, along with a bit of tea and some cream.”

“All of that and cream, too? Oh, my lady, how grand.” Mrs. Winters’s eyes glistened. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense.” Lady Greystone clicked her tongue and her hawk-like features sharpened. “It is your due for faithful service, and my duty to provide it.”

“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Winters adjusted her spectacles. “Is this my Edmond?” She reached out to the major. “Oh, dear boy, come close so I may see you.” Now her tears slipped down her wrinkled cheeks.

The major knelt by her chair. “Hello, my dear Winnie.” He kissed her cheek, and she patted his.

Watching the encounter, Anna’s heart performed a dozen somersaults. Not only was she touched by the major’s gentle gesture, but she also longed to know more about this old woman, more about the vicar. These were gentle souls, people to whom God had brought her that she might minister to them. Her grateful prayer was cut short when the old nurse’s gaze fell on her.

“And who is this lovely creature you have brought to me? Edmond, is this your bride?”

Laughter bubbled up inside of Anna over such a silly assumption, but the major jolted to attention, and shock covered his handsome countenance. “Why, no—”

Lady Greystone uttered a mild, unladylike epithet. “She is nothing of the sort. Nothing at all, really. My new companion, if she pleases me.”

The woman’s expression grew sober, except for her eyes, which danced merrily. “As you say, my lady.”

The major swallowed noisily next to Anna while his mother opened her basket. “As you already have an unseasonable fire burning, shall we have tea?”

“Ah.” Mrs. Winters turned her attention to that offer. “How lovely. Mr. Partridge, will you put on the kettle?”

“Nonsense.” Lady Greystone waved the vicar back to his chair. “Newfield, see to it.”

Grateful to be useful at last, Anna hurried to the small hearth where she dipped fresh water from a crock into a battered tin kettle, hung the kettle on the iron arm and swung the arm over the amber coals. A gentle stir with a poker ignited the flames, and soon steam wafted from the kettle spout. She hesitated before measuring tea leaves into the porcelain teapot. Did Lady Greystone like weak or strong tea? She glanced behind her to see the viscountess inspecting Mrs. Winters’s knitting project.

“You waste too much dye on your wool,” Lady Greystone said. “A pale scarf is as warm as a dark one for these village children. They’ll turn them dark soon enough in their games.”

Economy seemed to be the lady’s watchword, so Anna measured two scant spoonfuls of tea leaves into the pot and poured in boiling water. Once it had steeped she served the others, and to her relief, no one complained about the weakness of the beverage.

“Will you not have a cup, my dear?” Mrs. Winters gazed at Anna as if she were an old friend.

“Why—” Anna glanced at the major for direction, but quickly shifted her gaze to Lady Greystone. The lady’s eyebrows quirked briefly in what seemed to be assent. “Thank you, ma’am.” She chose a cup and saucer from the mismatched china on the mantelpiece and savored the warmth of the tea against the chill of the room. Truly, it was not too soon for old Mrs. Winters to have a fire, but Anna could hardly admonish her employer.

While Lady Greystone conversed in low tones with the old woman and the vicar, Anna stood by the hearth and studied the cozy but sparsely furnished parlor. Dark green drapes were drawn aside from two small windows, permitting sunlight to brighten the room. The plaster walls were painted pale green, and wrought iron sconces hung above the faded settee where Major Grenville sat looking a bit sour.

Was he still dismayed over the old woman’s erroneous assumption about their relationship? If so, he really should learn to laugh a bit more at such ridiculous conjectures. After all, she was clearly in mourning, and her black lace cap bespoke a spinster not seeking a husband. He was an aristocrat not likely to marry someone of her station.

Never mind. People would soon understand it all. While the gentleman would make a fine husband for some fortunate lady, Anna would not be the one. The thought generated a modicum of sadness, but she refused to give place to such nonsensical feelings. After all, scripture taught that a merry heart doeth good, like medicine. Through many experiences she had seen that laughter was the best remedy for any unhappiness, the wisest contradiction for any false speculations.

Perhaps she should teach him how to play “What’s the worst thing?” as her family used to do.

* * *

Edmond could hardly keep from squirming on the settee, not just because of its lumpy seat or his aching leg, but because dear Winnie had created an awkward situation. If Miss Newfield sat beside him or if he stood and offered her his place, the old nurse would tease again, and Mother might begin to view the girl as a threat and cast her out. While her sons’ occupations held first place in her machinations, not far behind was her determination that they should marry well to someone of their own class. More times than he could count, she had railed against aristocrats who married members of the gentry. Such unions not only tainted the blood, she claimed, but they created disorder by lifting unworthy souls above their God-given place on the Great Chain of Being. Thus these marriages were nothing short of sin.

Edmond had always accepted her reasoning, for every aristocrat he knew held that view. Of late, however, he had begun to reconsider, particularly after a superior man named Peter Newfield died in his stead. And as each hour and day passed, Edmond grew more and more determined that Newfield’s sister must never want for security.

For the present, however, the only safe course for both Miss Newfield and himself was to effect polite indifference toward each other. Which would be decidedly difficult for him if the young lady continued to view the world so agreeably with those merry green eyes.

Chapter Seven

During her first evening with the family, Anna sat on a straight-backed chair by the drawing room door while Lady Greystone supervised the after-supper activities. Anna imagined that their customs were similar to her own family’s, with every member expected to contribute to the entertainment. A finely polished maple card table had been unfolded and matching chairs set around it, so perhaps they would play whist or another card game. Anna hoped she would not be called upon to join in, for cards required a quick memory and she always found her mind wandering during the game. If asked, she could play the pianoforte without embarrassing herself, but Lady Greystone had just assigned that particular duty to her daughter-in-law.

Although she had to lumber to the instrument, Mrs. Grenville appeared eager and her nimble fingers moved over the keys with a respectable musical skill. After her brief concert, the gentlemen discussed politics and news, with Lady Greystone glancing up from her needlework to comment from time to time. No games seemed to be planned, which left Anna to revise her speculations. Did they truly just talk in the evenings? No charades? No word games? She could barely keep from yawning.

After more than an hour, she decided she had been forgotten. Major Grenville offered a glance or two her way, but he gave her no smile. Perhaps he was still offended by his former nurse’s comment that afternoon, but Anna could hardly be faulted for it. Despite his previous courtesies, he had seemed almost to avoid her on the walk back to the manor house and throughout supper. Still, he had done more than enough by bringing her here. She should expect nothing beyond that. Instead, she sat on the edge of her chair to remain alert and cheered herself by deciding this was preferable to sitting on the edge of a highway with no place to go. From here she could observe the family and pray for them.

“Newfield!” Lady Greystone’s sharp voice jolted Anna, and she realized she had been near to dozing after all.

“Yes, my lady.” Face burning, she rose, crossed the room and stood near the settee where her employer sat with her eldest son.

“You will begin your riding lessons tomorrow.” The viscountess barely glanced at Anna and continued her needlework.

Anna knew she must acknowledge the order, but her throat closed. How she had hoped Lady Greystone would forget this frightening project.

“Edmond,” the lady said, “you will teach her. If this gel you have brought to me is to be an acceptable companion, she must ride. Peel always disappointed me in her fear of horses. Why, the woman trembled so much she made the beasts skittish. Such nonsense.”

Major Grenville’s jaw dropped, and he, too, seemed at a loss for words. Anna could think of no way to rescue either of them.

Hidden behind a newspaper, the viscount coughed, but Anna could not decide whether it was an attempt to cover a laugh or a symptom of an illness. When the major glared in his brother’s direction, Anna was both relieved and dismayed. Of course she would not wish the viscount to be ill, but she could find no humor in the situation. And while she would enjoy the major’s company under any circumstances, she had never managed to overcome her fear of horses. Only one escape seemed possible.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I have nothing proper to wear for riding.”

The viscountess gave her a sharp look, then eyed her up and down through her quizzing glass. “Hmm. Easily solved. You will wear Peel’s habit.”

“But, Mother Greystone—” Mrs. Grenville had moved from the pianoforte to a chair beside her husband “—Miss Peel was tall and thin as a reed.” While she did not look at Anna, her remark was nonetheless appreciated.

“Also easily solved,” the viscountess said. “You sew, do you not, Newfield?”

Anna swallowed, and her heart sank. “Yes, my lady.”

“Then go at once and find Hudson. She will direct you to the garment and the sewing supplies.”

After offering a quick curtsey, Anna fled the room, praying tears would not overtake her. Upstairs she found the viscountess’s lady’s maid and soon had the project in hand. While no one could call Anna stout, she hoped the thin woman’s gown would not have enough material to enlarge it. Alas, the side seams were more than wide enough. After letting it out, Anna enlisted Mrs. Hudson’s help in measuring how much to increase the hem. That done, the maid declared the project a success and retired for the night.

Anna knelt beside her bed and offered up an urgent plea that somehow the Lord would deliver her from tomorrow’s trial. Not only must she face a large, fearsome beast the likes of which she had rarely come near, but she must also face Major Grenville, who should not be riding yet and who clearly did not wish to teach her.

She fell asleep trying very hard to play “What’s the worst thing?” to cheer herself. But the game only generated dreams of being thrown to the ground while her four-legged adversary whinnied its triumph above her.

* * *

“Really, Mother.” Edmond scowled at his parent while ignoring Greystone’s smirk. “I hardly feel ready to ride, much less ready to teach someone else how to do it.” He despised sounding weak in front of his brothers, but better that than to announce his true reason for disliking this assignment. As much as he would enjoy the young lady’s company, it would not be proper for them to venture out alone and still keep her reputation intact.

“And may I add—” Richard’s slender face wore an uncharacteristic frown “—it would hardly be proper for the young lady, spinster or not, to be out with Edmond without a chaperone.”

Edmond exhaled a sigh of relief. His brother the cleric would be an ally in this matter.

“Nonsense.” Mother rose from the settee. Everyone else stood as well. “They will have the groom with them.” She moved toward the door, then turned back to face Edmond. “As we walked back from the village today, you leaned upon your man less and less. All you require for complete recovery is additional exercise and a return to your riding. Furthermore, you need something to do. This will be good for you.” She sniffed, as she often did when displeased. “And why must I repeat myself? If this gel is to be my companion, she must ride.” She strode out of the room, head held high like a general marching away victorious from a battlefield.

“I say, Edmond.” Greystone stretched and yawned. “I should think you would enjoy the company of a young woman after all your military duties.”

Edmond laughed without mirth, hating what he was about to say. “Preferably someone of our class, not a servant.” As he said the words, a sick feeling churned in his belly. Miss Newfield was the gentlest, kindest Christian lady he had ever met. He had no right to claim superiority over her.

“Well,” Richard said, “strictly speaking, a companion is not a servant.” As if looking for agreement he gazed down at Mary, who sat tucked under his arm now that Mother was not in the room.

Mary returned a beatific smile. “If you say so, my darling.”

Edmond felt his heart lighten just observing their mutual devotion. How grand it would be to have a wife of his own to cherish. “No, I suppose not. But you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” His eldest brother continued to smirk.

“Stubble it, Greystone. If Mother thinks I admire the poor girl, she’ll boot her out.” He walked toward the door.

Greystone followed a few feet behind him. “And of course you do not admire her.” His teasing tone held a world of good humor.

Edmond stopped and turned so quickly his brother almost collided with him. “Listen to me. This woman’s brother died in my place. I have a duty to make certain she is not misused or abandoned. That is all.”

“Of course.” Greystone’s lopsided grin contradicted his assertion. “Why do you insist upon thinking I am suggesting anything else?”

Too tired to argue, Edmond limped from the room and headed toward the staircase. With each step, he was forced to admit Mother was right. Today’s exercise had helped work out some of his discomfort from having been laid up for so long. But he could not envision getting back on a horse tomorrow morning. Nor could he envision working for hours with the lovely Miss Newfield without coming to admire her entirely too much.

* * *

Anna endeavored not to tremble as she descended the wide front staircase. The Lord had not answered her prayers as she wished. Nor had He given her peace about the upcoming trial. But scripture said He would never leave her nor forsake her. Anna could cling to that promise far more easily than she would be able to cling to a saddle. If an injury was in her future, so be it. She would try to bear it as bravely as Major Grenville bore his wounds.

When she reached the bottom of the steps she inhaled a deep breath and blew it out, then squared her shoulders and walked through the wide front door held open by the liveried footman. A cold breeze smacked her face, bringing with it the strong smell of horseflesh. Against her lingering hopes, the major stood talking with another man, most likely the groom, for he held the reins of a brown horse. The creature eyed Anna with a look of boredom. Or was that a challenge in those large black eyes?

Still using his cane, Major Grenville stepped over to greet her. “Good morning, Miss Newfield.” He took her hand but offered no smile, which only added to her trepidation…and disappointment. “Ah, you’re trembling,” he whispered. “Don’t be frightened. She’s the gentlest horse in my brother’s stable.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out before Anna could stop it. “Oh, doubtless, she is.” But she could not keep doubt from her voice.

He pulled her around in front of him, gripped her upper arms and captured her gaze. “Miss Newfield, you may count on me.” The firm, warm touch of his hands set her heart to fluttering uncontrollably. “I will not allow you to be harmed.” The intensity in his eyes held the gentle rebuke of a friend, and his masculine presence nearly took her breath away.

She swallowed and looked down, struggling to regain some semblance of dignity. “I thank you, Major Grenville.” Her eyes stung, but she forbade tears to fall. “You have shown me nothing but kindness. I do trust you.” She inhaled yet another bracing breath and looked up at him again, this time with a teasing smile. “Shall we begin? After all, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Releasing his grip on her arms, he stepped back and chuckled, then laughed out loud, a most welcome sound. “Your brother told me about your family’s game. But let’s not play it, at least not today.” He took her elbow and led her to the horse’s head. “Miss Newfield, may I present Bella.” He ran a hand down the creature’s nose. “Bella, this is Miss Newfield,” he murmured as he took Anna’s gloved hand and guided it down the creature’s nose. “Unlike poor Miss Peel, she is not the least bit nervous.”

“You should not lie to her.” Anna’s voice wavered, but whether it was from the touch of the major’s hand on hers or his deep, soothing tone, she could not tell.

Again he chuckled, and a shiver, not at all displeasing, swept over her. She mentally shook it off. Why should this man’s presence have such a disconcerting effect on her? Why did his smiles mean so much to her? She must dismiss all these thoughts, including her sympathies for Lady Greystone’s late companion, and remember Peter’s fearless determination to ride so he could become a dragoon.

Setting aside his cane, Major Grenville gripped Anna at the waist and lifted her into the saddle. With every care for propriety’s sake, he settled her left shoe into the stirrup and helped her drape her right knee over the pommel. Pressing her foot into the stirrup, she rose slightly to adjust her seating, and the saddle dipped on that side. Anna dropped back with a gasp.

“It’s all right,” the major said. “The girth is firmly cinched. It won’t slip.” He gave her a reassuring smile such as one might give a child, then nodded to the groom.

The man clicked his tongue and tugged on the bridle. Bella lurched forward. Or so it seemed to Anna. She grabbed for the front edge of the saddle.

“Easy.” The major walked along beside her, cane in one hand and his other hand stretched out toward her, should she need it. “If you must hold on, you can grip her mane. Try to sit straight and balance your spine over hers. Keep your eyes straight ahead.”

Anna followed his instructions and soon was able to sit without holding on for a few seconds at a time. They walked around the circle drive in front of the manor house, and she found herself moving comfortably with Bella’s walking gait. Her confidence grew, probably because of Major Grenville’s presence. Well into the second time around, she ventured a sidelong glance at him.

“Have you taught many people how to ride?”

“A few young dragoons who’d not had the advantage of learning at home.” He grimaced, and she guessed his injured leg was giving him pain. Yet he made no complaint. “You’re doing very well.”

Pleased at his compliment, she relaxed into the saddle. “If that is so, it is your doing.”

“Nonsense.” He used his mother’s favorite word, but without the sharpness the viscountess employed. “Riding is in your blood. Newfield was the best rider of all my officers, some of whom had ridden all their lives.”

“Peter has always been fearless.” Anna refused to speak of her brother as though he were dead, despite the shadow that passed over the major’s handsome face.

“Indeed. Fearless describes him well.”

They fell silent as they continued their walk, and Anna grew more and more comfortable on Bella’s back. She lost count of how many times they circled the great fountain in the center of the drive. She imagined the structure would be quite lovely in the spring and summer, when water flowed from the marble pitchers held by four dainty Grecian maidens in marble gowns. She prayed she would still reside at Greystone Lodge to see it. And although she wished the major a speedy recovery, she hoped he would still be here then, too. Like her father and brother, he made her believe she could do something that frightened her beyond reason. And he was right.

* * *

After spending the morning with Miss Newfield, Edmond experienced a satisfaction unlike any he could recall. She was nothing like the young ladies he had observed in London, the girls who simpered and giggled and posed in their pretty frocks while trying to ensnare some unattached peer or heir. The same young misses had turned their backs when he approached because he was a younger son lacking both title and fortune. He could not imagine any of those giddy girls facing a challenge as admirably as Miss Newfield. Although she had been afraid, she had not only faced her fears but done it with good humor, just as her heroic brother might have done. Her insistence upon giving him the credit for their successful lesson soothed a hidden wound in his soul.

To his relief, he observed that Miss Newfield did not wilt under Mother’s scorching rule, which had been his concern from the moment he invited her to Greystone Lodge. Thus he could not regret bringing her here, for he felt certain she would do only good for the entire household. Still, he must remain on his guard against any display of admiration, especially in the presence of his mother and his bothersome eldest brother. While Mother seemed oblivious to Miss Newfield’s beauty, Greystone took entirely too much delight in teasing Edmond as if they were still boys and his joking could create no lasting damage.

But indeed, it could utterly destroy a kind and innocent soul, should Mother decide the young lady had set her cap for him.

Chapter Eight

Anna had no illusions that her good experience with the first riding lesson indicated she would become a skilled rider, for Major Grenville had kept Bella at a walk the entire time. Horses also trotted and galloped. What would the mare have done if the groom had released the halter? If something had startled her into a run? Anna prayed she would develop both aptitude and proficiency very soon. And a much better attitude would not hurt. So when Lord Greystone met Anna and the major in the front entry and asked her how the lesson went, she put on her best face.

“Major Grenville is a remarkable instructor. I am certain I shall become competent enough on horseback to please Lady Greystone.” She ended in a rush, for this was the first time she had addressed the viscount. Or any peer.

“Ah, yes, I have no doubt my brother is an excellent riding teacher.” Lord Greystone chuckled and nudged the major, who scowled at him. “And if you manage to please my mother, madam, you will have accomplished something no mortal has yet been able to do these past seven and forty years.” He sauntered away, still laughing, but not before he cast a smirk in the major’s direction.

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