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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
    T he 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