“Can one of us not go there?” his mother implored. “Help nurse him? Heaven knows what sort of condition that hospital is in—overcrowded filthy place, no doubt, and incompetent surgeons in the bargain.”
His father soothed, “My dear, I am sure he is in good hands.”
“I wished I shared your confidence, Alan,” the colonel put in.
“I cannot go,” his mother said. “Not and leave you on your own. Your health being what it is...”
“Of course you should not even think about going, my dear. No place for a lady. Nor should Sophie. Especially not in her condition.”
“I shall go.” The colonel rose and drew his shoulders back as though at attention.
“Papa... You are too old to go traipsing off to war-torn Belgium.”
“Shall I go?” Wesley offered. “I suppose it’s only right, the way Marsh has chased after me all these years.”
Lieutenant Keith slowly shook his head. “I... don’t think that’s the best idea...” He glanced at Sophie, eyes wary.
“Why not?” Wesley challenged. Surely CK didn’t think he would harm his own brother?
“Because it is dangerous, and one of the Overtree sons needs to stay in one piece. You are the heir, after all. Shouldn’t risk it.” Carlton Keith inhaled resolutely. “I am the best man for the job,” he said. “If anyone goes, it should be me.”
“You, Flap?” Wesley chided, irrationally irritated. “And what good will you do?”
“Wesley...” His mother admonished. “That isn’t kind.”
“If the captain does end up losing an arm, well, I know a thing or two about that, don’t I?” Keith said. “And I am not as likely to call him disparaging names as you are.”
Wesley put his hands on his hips. “I’ve seen your nursemaid skills, don’t forget, and they leave much to be desired.”
“That’s enough, Wes,” his grandfather said. “I’ll brook no disrespect for an officer, especially one who gave so much for his country.”
Mr. Keith rose. “Thank you, Colonel. Perhaps you might advise me on the best route and supply a letter of introduction should I encounter any obstacles, and perhaps to present to the officer in charge?”
“Immediately.”
“And of course we shall fund the journey, Lieutenant,” Mr. Overtree said. “That goes without saying.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Wesley bit back the retort on his lips,He wouldn’t make it far otherwise—never goes anywhere on his ownshilling.Wesley knew it would reflect poorly on him to disparage the man willing to go and help the injured war hero. Was he doing it to impress Angela? He’d noticed the two spending time together. Well, there was a woman Wesley would like to impress as well.
That night, Sophie lay in bed, unable to sleep, reviewing the events of the day. She thought again of hearing the letter read. How her heart had leapt to hear her portrait had been found in Stephen’s hand! Even as she hated the thought of all he had suffered, and was suffering still, she thanked God for the confirmation that Captain Overtree was indeed alive. She was thrilled at the news. Drop-to-her-knees grateful. And a little confused.
She had begun to wonder if Wesley might be right—that God meant for them to be together. But now this.... She felt dizzy at this reversal of fate and feelings. Her battered heart sore but beating a little faster at the thought of Captain Overtree’s return.
If he learned she’d briefly entertained the notion of a future with Wesley, would he think her unfaithful—in thought if not in deed? And what about Wesley’s accusation that Stephen had married her out of revenge? If he had, would he ever truly love her? Whatever the case, knowing he was alive changed everything. She hoped Wesley realized that as well.
Even so, Sophie had been touched and impressed when Wesley offered to go to Belgium. But she had seen the look Mr. Keith had given her. Did he fear Wesley would do more harm than good, perhaps even intentionally? She would never believe it of him. Whatever Mr. Keith’s motives, however, she was glad he was going to the captain’s aid. He had also agreed to carry a letter she’d written to the captain, and promised to deliver it in person.
Sophie lay awake so long, she grew hungry again. Her stomach rumbled its protest. She supposed she could call for Libby and ask her to bring her something, but she hated to wake the kind maid when she had probably just gone to bed. No use in both of them being up.
She rose and wrapped her dressing gown as far around her as it would go, the ties covering her belly if the sides did not. Taking her candle, she went all the way downstairs to the kitchen larder and cut herself a wedge of cheese and a slice of bread. She ate them right there at the worktable with as much relish as if in a Royal Crescent dining room.
On her way back through the hall, Sophie found herself looking up to see if she could spot the squint holes in the musicians’ gallery. There it was—the plaster mask on the gallery wall, its jester face grinning down at her. Sophie gasped. The eyes were glowing! A shiver scurried over her like spider legs. The eyes flickered another second, then faded. Someone walking through the secret passage with a candle?
Miss Blake would not be there at this hour. Then who was it... Winnie?
Sophie wasn’t sure. Was she brave enough to investigate? She would at least position herself near the priest hole and see who emerged.
