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Her sister glanced at her. “You disappeared quite early. Where did you go?”

“I didn’t have your queue of admirers waiting on me. I'm surprised you noticed I was gone.”

“Hardly a queue. One gentleman who was kind.”

Cressida raked the brush hard through Callie’s hair, making her sister squeak. “Very kind, it looked to me. No, I walked out and talked with Tom instead. Sometimes it seems we take him for granted, since he’s been with us for so many years.”

“I suppose,” said Callie on a gasp. She was holding tightly to the edge of the table as Cressida yanked on her tangled hair. Cressida relented and gentled her strokes until her sister’s fingers eased their grip and slid into her lap.

“I think we’ve all underestimated Tom. He’s one of the most wholly decent men I know, a gentleman in deed if not by birth. Just think of where we’d be now if he hadn’t stayed with us all these weeks since Papa left. I can’t imagine life without Tom, can you?”

“Of course not!” Callie looked shocked by the question.

“And it struck me, as I was watching Mr. Bantry hang on your every word, that I’ve known Tom for years. We get on quite well together.” She had Callie’s undivided attention now. Cressida hid her satisfaction and continued sweeping the brush through her sister’s long dark curls as she talked. “Perhaps I’ve been overlooking something, or someone, right before my eyes.”

“Cressida.” Callie seemed to have trouble speaking. “Are you—are you saying—or trying to say—is he—Tom—does he⁠—?”

“Well, setting my cap for Tom would be sensible, wouldn’t it? We would neither of us be deceived in the other’s character. Granny would always have a home, and you, too, if you wished.”

“Well. . . perhaps, but⁠—”

“And he has his pension. He told me, when he bought the silk for the dresses. Now that we've lost Brighampton, we might go anywhere. In Portsmouth there would be more work for him, and we could take one of those cozy houses down by the quay, the ones you and I used to admire so much.”

“So you. . . ?” Callie faltered. “Are you in love with him?”

Cressida heaved a sigh. “No, but I’m very fond of him. Didn’t Papa always say that would be more than enough? I suppose I’m too old to be particular about that anyway.”

“Papa said—” Callie’s voice rose into a high squeak. She stopped, then spoke in her normal tone. “Papa disapproves of Tom. Mr. Webb, I mean.”

That was twice Callie had slipped and called him Tom. Cressida would have smiled, except that she heard the feeling not in those utterances, but when Callie called him Mr. Webb. “Papa's no longer here, and I cannot help thinking he doesn’t mean to come back. And in any event, I’m hardly a young girl who has to do my father’s bidding. I daresay if Tom will have me, I couldn’t find a better match.”

Callie said nothing.

“Do you not approve?” Cressida prodded.

Her sister stared at her reflection with wide, dismayed eyes. Cressida sank down and sat on the back of the dressing table bench. “Or, perhaps, you fancy him.”

“Perhaps,” whispered Callie, meeting Cressida’s gaze in the mirror.

“Did Papa. . . ?”

Callie blinked, and gave a slight nod. Cressida felt a burst of anger at her father. She put her arm around her sister. “Then you should⁠—”

“Cressida, you don’t understand!” Callie sprang to her feet and almost tripped in her haste to scramble away. “You can stand up to Papa. He—he terrifies me. When he looks at me with that stern air, like he expects me to say or do just the right thing or lose his regard forever, I freeze inside. And when I disappoint him, it’s dreadful.”

“That’s why Papa bullies you. He likes having command after being in the army, and he’s not much used to having daughters around.” Even as she said it, Cressida knew it was no excuse. She thought again of Alec swinging his nieces in the air at his mother's party, grinning at their squeals of delight. He could hardly be used to little girls, either, but he was gentle and kind to them.

Callie shook her head, looking helpless. “It doesn’t matter. I crumble inside when he scolds me.”

“But he’s not here now, is he?” Callie bit her lip and looked at the floor. “Tom wants to leave.” Her sister’s gaze shot up. “And why not? We have no money and just lost our home. A man would have to be an idiot not to realize his chances were better elsewhere. But for some reason, he’s still here.” She got up and took her sister’s hands. “Do you care for Tom?”

Color flooded Callie’s face. “Yes.”

Cressida squeezed her fingers. “You might let the poor man know. Papa made his disapproval known to Tom as well, and now he doesn’t dare look at you the way he did tonight, when he thought no one was watching.”

Callie’s breath quickened. “How?”

“As though he would be happy never to look away,” said Cressida softly.