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“Oh. I nearly forgot.” Julia sighed. “Or rather, I wanted to forget. Mother is having a party. Not a ball, because of Freddie, but a small party, because of Alec. She’s desperate to reestablish him in Marston’s eyes, after all the scandalbroth brewed here over him. Do say you'll come.”

Her face burned. A party, at the beautiful Penford estate? Even if she had a gown worth wearing, she wasn’t certain she could face the major again. She would commit herself to the workhouse before she submitted to his probing gaze in her mended blue calico. “Oh, no. I would be completely out of place.”

“Nonsense.” Julia squeezed her hand. “It has nothing to do with who knew him then, or now. Mother won’t be inviting certain people who were cold to her after he went missing, you may depend on that—and there are plenty of them, no doubt all perishing of curiosity now that he’s returned. She’ll only have people who bear him no ill will, and I told her to add your family to the list." Still Cressida hesitated, and Julia added, "Perhaps it will give you a chance to decide if you want his help or not. Please say you'll come. It’s to be this Saturday evening.”

Cressida bit her lip. Julia must not realize how poor they had become. She meant the invitation kindly and sincerely, and ordinarily Cressida would have accepted with pleasure. “I’ll consider it,” she said, clinging to the scraps of pride she had left.

Julia beamed. “Excellent! I will see you then.” She said farewell and walked in the direction Major Hayes had gone.

Cressida turned slowly toward the apothecary for Granny's tonic. Her frail little grandmother was fading away. Perhaps for that reason alone she should accept the major’s help: seeing Papa return home would be good for Granny, who fretted over his absence daily. For Granny's sake, she could endure the major's presence, couldn't she?

She shook herself. Three days—and perhaps an evening at Penford.

Chapter Eight

Alec felt the notice of the townspeople as he drove through town. Marston was tiny, and by the time he reached the stationer’s shop where his mother had told him to look for Julia, it seemed the entire populace was watching him. He ignored it, tying up the horse and removing his hat as he entered the shop.

Old Darnley’s was the same as he remembered it, smelling of paper and ink. Alec had been sent here often as a boy to fetch things for his mother, more as a way to occupy him than because of his mother’s pressing need for ink or quills. Now, as then, Darnley was perched on his high stool at the back of the shop. He looked up at the bell, his round pink face beaming, until he saw Alec. Then the smile froze, just for a moment, but long enough.

Alec forced a polite expression and stepped forward. “Good day, sir. I’m looking for my sister, Miss Hayes.”

Relief flashed in Darnley’s eyes. “Oh yes, bless me, she was here not too long ago. I expect she’s just gone around the corner or next door.”

“Thank you.” Alec glanced around the shop. “Your shop is exactly as I remember it, Mr. Darnley. I feel as though I should ask for some ink and a new nib, for my mother.”

Mr. Darnley chuckled, his expression easing a bit. “Why yes, she did send you here quite frequently. I had to wrap those bottles of ink very well, if I recall correctly.”

Alec smiled. He’d climbed trees and walked along stone walls on the way home, and more than one bottle of ink had not survived the journey. “Yes, I remember. Many a pair of trousers and stockings had to be thrown out after I fetched ink from you. My mother said it often wasn’t worth the effort of sending me.”

Darnley laughed, his face creasing into well-worn lines as he pressed his palms to his apron. He hesitated. “May I welcome you home, sir?”

The lighthearted memory faded. Alec inclined his head. “Thank you. Next door, you say?”

“Yes, yes, she was here only moments ago.” Darnley hurried to open the door for him, still smiling and nodding, but Alec felt the man’s relief like a wisp of cold air. He stepped back into the street and looked left and right. Darnley hadn’t said which direction Julia might have gone. He scanned the faces, not seeing his sister’s, until his gaze snagged on a plain straw bonnet with a bright scarlet ribbon.

Alec admitted he was curious to see what three days would do to change Miss Turner’s opinion of him. What did she expect to learn? Of his past in Marston, there was plenty to hear; he’d been a hellion as a lad, and even into his army career. Of his alleged betrayal at Waterloo, there was also no doubt plenty to hear, but Alec suspected she had already heard most of that. Of the last five years, and what sort of man he was now. . . there was nothing anyone in Marston or anywhere else could tell her. And sadly, that had far more bearing on what he could do for her now than anything she might discover about the hellion or the traitor.

He started down the street, glancing into each shop he passed in search of Julia. Miss Turner’s bonnet was still visible, thanks to her height. She was slowly strolling down the street with another lady, leaning her head down to her companion’s. Perhaps that was part of his fascination with her; she could almost look him in the eye, something few women could do. He smiled a little, thinking of looking into her glorious eyes again, and then he finally recognized the lady at her side.

Now what could Julia be telling her? Nothing flattering to him, given his sister’s animosity. Perhaps it was unrelated to him, although Alec found that unlikely. It was unfortunately obvious that his return was the most momentous event of some time in Marston. Even now, as he walked down the street, people drew away from his path, avoiding his gaze.

He hated it. He hated feeling like an oddity. He hated the fact that everyone stared at him, but no one would speak to him unless forced to do so. He hated that he had no rebuttal to the tales they must be whispering about him. And he truly hated the fact that for some unknown reason, he cared what Miss Turner thought of him, and hoped that Julia was chattering about fashion.

He caught a glimpse of Miss Turner’s bonnet again as she went into the apothecary shop. Julia had turned his way and seen him. Her face set, she strode toward him, a package from Darnley in her arm. Alec stopped and waited.

"I suppose Mother sent you," she said.

"She worried you would be caught in the rain."

Julia cast her eyes upward. The sky had been overcast all day, but not one raindrop had fallen. "Of course," she said dryly. "Well, let’s be off.”

Alec kept his expression neutral and followed her to the gig. Julia climbed in without waiting for him to give her a hand up, and he made no comment. He untied the horse and swung up beside her.

Neither spoke until they were out of town, bowling down the same road he had just traveled with Miss Turner. Alec thought again of her expressive eyes and the way they flashed at him when he questioned her motives. Whatever else she thought of him, Miss Turner wasn’t afraid to look at him or talk to him. Three days. . .

“I could have walked, you know,” Julia announced. She still stared straight ahead.

“Mother thought it better if you didn't.”