The children stood in a row a short distance away, gazing in fascination and trepidation at the dog. Beauty woofed.
“Does he bite?” Nathan asked.
Lieutenant Colonel Bennington went down on one knee and set a hand on the dog’s back.
“She does not,” he said. “She likes children. She likes to shake hands with them. She likes them to pat her head andrub her back. Come.” He beckoned to Josephine, who shrank back for a moment before stepping gingerly forward and setting a small hand in his large one.
And Abigail watched incredulously as he showed Josephine how to let the dog sniff the back of her hand before turning it over and letting the dog lick her palm. She giggled as the dog lifted a paw and the lieutenant colonel suggested that she shake it. She moved closer then in order to pat Beauty’s head and run her hand down the dog’s neck and along her back.
“Let me,” Nathan cried, jumping up and down on the spot. “Let me.”
The getting-acquainted ritual was repeated, the man speaking quietly and unhurriedly, the child laughing and finally flinging his arms about the dog’s neck and giggling outright when Beauty licked his ear.
Rebecca was sucking her thumb and holding her distance.
“Come,” Lieutenant Colonel Bennington said, beckoning with his fingers and lifting the child to sit on his knee when she took a few steps closer. Beauty dipped her head for Rebecca to pat.
“Doggie,” she said before turning her head and fixing her gaze on the lieutenant colonel’s facial scar.
“What is her name?” Wren asked. She had come across the lawn with Anna.
“Beauty,” he said, and Josephine laughed gleefully.
“She is not beautiful,” she protested.
“Maybe not,” he told her. “But she is beauty.”
And Abigail had the strange feeling that he meantbeautywith a smallb, rather than just the dog’s name.
Rebecca sat quietly on his knee until the other men drew close. Then she held up her arms to Avery, and he took her after handing the baby to Anna.
Nathan and Josephine were on either side of the dog, smoothing her sides.
“I think it must be almost time for luncheon,” Abigail said to no one in particular, and she continued on her way to the house.
For some reason she felt horribly discomposed.
Because she had at first refused to accept his apology?
Because he ought to have made it much sooner?
Because he was good with children?
Because he was amanand...?
Well, that made no sense whatsoever.
She went in search of Jessica and Estelle in the morning room.
Five
Several times during the course of the following week Gil wondered if he ought after all to have taken himself off as soon as Harry’s family started to gather to celebrate his homecoming and fuss and plan for his future. Or if he should do it even after they came. He was keenly aware that he did not belong here with them. None of them knew who he was, apart from his name and military rank. To say they would be horrified if theydidknow would surely have been to understate the case quite severely.
Harry’s grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Riverdale, arrived on the second day with her unmarried daughter, Lady Matilda Westcott, and another daughter, Lady Molenor, who was accompanied by her husband. The three ladies, along with the Dowager Duchess of Netherby and Harry’s mother, spent a good deal of time after that either worrying over Harry or endlessly discussing what ought to be done about his future care after they left.
The men for their part seemed just as intent uponprotecting Harry from being overfussed and often surrounded him, talking determinedly upon topics that had nothing to do with health or nurses or attendant physicians.
The younger people enjoyed one another’s company and occasionally, when they had the chance, gathered about Harry. They chattered about everything that had happened in their lives since they last saw him. They even managed to coax a few stories out of him about the time he had been away.
