spray of flowers had found its way to her door. The enclosed card had borne but one word, Harry. Yet somehow that had brought her more consolation than all the scriptural outpourings of her father's ecclesiastical friends.
It had not been long after that she had received the tidings that Harry had bought his commission. Kate had been deeply troubled by this rash action, and she ventured to mention it to him.
"I was worried about you when I heard you joined the army. I was afraid that perhaps it was all my doing—that I was to blame."
"Because I was nursing a broken heart? Nonsense, Kate. You know I have a tougher hide than that. No, it was simply that London was becoming a dead bore and, in any event, it's family tradition. All the Lytton men at sometime or other seem to have gotten a mad hankering to run off to be a soldier." After a pause, Harry said, "Though I don't know why. Rum business soldiering."
Despite the offhand nature of the comment, something in Harry's tone caused Kate to glance at him. His features had stilled into somber lines, a darkness gathered in the wells of his eyes that Kate had never seen there before. Kate realized Harry had sustained more wounds at Waterloo than just his arm. So full of life himself, he was not the sort of man to take pleasure in death, not even of his enemies.
She longed to reach out to him, comfort him, but as ever Harry was quick to toss off his own somber mood with a jest. He proceeded to assure her with mock solemnity, "You see me returned home, my Kate, content to live the rest of my life as a sober country gentleman. I intended to become so stuffed with respectability, my tailor shall have to let out my waistcoats."
Kate could not quite prevent her brow from quirking in dubious fashion. Harry began to make all sort of outrageous promises that ranged from attending church every Sunday to never engaging in any sport more dangerous than whist for a penny a point.
Although he had her laughing as they drew near the turning to Huddleston farm, Kate could not forebear remarking, "I hope all this newfound respectability includes showing a greater interest in your estates."
"Oh, indubitably," Harry said, taking the reins from her, guiding the curricle past the stile.
The Huddlestons were some of Harry's best tenants. The wide welcoming barnyard was as well noted for its flock of speckled hens as for its brood of lively, sandy-haired children. The only thing that marred the appearance of the, snug, solidly built stone farmhouse was that one end of the thatched roof had through time and neglect begun to sag.
"Lord!" Harry exclaimed in shock as he reined in his team.
Kate half turned to him, not wishing Harry to be too distraught with remorse. After all, he had been away so long, but any reassurance she had been about to give was cut off when Harry emitted a low whistle.
"Damn! But those children have grown several hands since I saw them last. Even little Jack."
So saying, Harry was quick to alight. He handed down Kate and was soon swallowed in a sea of freckled faces. Despite the passage of time, he was somehow still able to identify all the little Huddlestons by name.
Kate could only gape at him as she realized that Harry didn't seem to notice the roof was about to cave in on their heads. She could have shaken him, but it would have taken a far more hard-hearted female not to melt at the sight of Harry tossing a small girl up onto his shoulders, her braids flying amid squeals of delight.
"Oh, Harry." Kate sighed, shaking her head ruefully. So charming, but so irresponsible, just as the bishop had always said.
And even though Kate could not help smiling as she followed Harry toward the house, a string of little ones hanging on to his coattails, she could feel the shadow of her father once more passing between them.
Chapter Six
Dawn broke over Mapleshade, a fine mist shrouding the distant majesty of the towering trees, golden light spilling across the dewy
It had not been long after that she had received the tidings that Harry had bought his commission. Kate had been deeply troubled by this rash action, and she ventured to mention it to him.
"I was worried about you when I heard you joined the army. I was afraid that perhaps it was all my doing—that I was to blame."
"Because I was nursing a broken heart? Nonsense, Kate. You know I have a tougher hide than that. No, it was simply that London was becoming a dead bore and, in any event, it's family tradition. All the Lytton men at sometime or other seem to have gotten a mad hankering to run off to be a soldier." After a pause, Harry said, "Though I don't know why. Rum business soldiering."
Despite the offhand nature of the comment, something in Harry's tone caused Kate to glance at him. His features had stilled into somber lines, a darkness gathered in the wells of his eyes that Kate had never seen there before. Kate realized Harry had sustained more wounds at Waterloo than just his arm. So full of life himself, he was not the sort of man to take pleasure in death, not even of his enemies.
She longed to reach out to him, comfort him, but as ever Harry was quick to toss off his own somber mood with a jest. He proceeded to assure her with mock solemnity, "You see me returned home, my Kate, content to live the rest of my life as a sober country gentleman. I intended to become so stuffed with respectability, my tailor shall have to let out my waistcoats."
Kate could not quite prevent her brow from quirking in dubious fashion. Harry began to make all sort of outrageous promises that ranged from attending church every Sunday to never engaging in any sport more dangerous than whist for a penny a point.
Although he had her laughing as they drew near the turning to Huddleston farm, Kate could not forebear remarking, "I hope all this newfound respectability includes showing a greater interest in your estates."
"Oh, indubitably," Harry said, taking the reins from her, guiding the curricle past the stile.
The Huddlestons were some of Harry's best tenants. The wide welcoming barnyard was as well noted for its flock of speckled hens as for its brood of lively, sandy-haired children. The only thing that marred the appearance of the, snug, solidly built stone farmhouse was that one end of the thatched roof had through time and neglect begun to sag.
"Lord!" Harry exclaimed in shock as he reined in his team.
Kate half turned to him, not wishing Harry to be too distraught with remorse. After all, he had been away so long, but any reassurance she had been about to give was cut off when Harry emitted a low whistle.
"Damn! But those children have grown several hands since I saw them last. Even little Jack."
So saying, Harry was quick to alight. He handed down Kate and was soon swallowed in a sea of freckled faces. Despite the passage of time, he was somehow still able to identify all the little Huddlestons by name.
Kate could only gape at him as she realized that Harry didn't seem to notice the roof was about to cave in on their heads. She could have shaken him, but it would have taken a far more hard-hearted female not to melt at the sight of Harry tossing a small girl up onto his shoulders, her braids flying amid squeals of delight.
"Oh, Harry." Kate sighed, shaking her head ruefully. So charming, but so irresponsible, just as the bishop had always said.
And even though Kate could not help smiling as she followed Harry toward the house, a string of little ones hanging on to his coattails, she could feel the shadow of her father once more passing between them.
Chapter Six
Dawn broke over Mapleshade, a fine mist shrouding the distant majesty of the towering trees, golden light spilling across the dewy
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