He must be waiting for her to leave before returning to his regiment! Though she couldn't blame him, tears ached around her eyes.

She hid the hurt and arranged to return to England with a slow train of wounded heading for the coast and a naval ship. She'd work her pa.s.sage by nursing the men.

She'd be glad to be home again, she a.s.sured herself, home with her friends, her family, and the peace of her father's shop. If Captain Charles Tennant wanted to speak to her about their situation, he could always find her there.

Six weeks later, Kate stepped onto English soil, tears of joy in her eyes. It had grown on her over the weeks, this need to be home. The feeling had only confirmed, however, that she was done with army life. That certainly complicated her marriage.

She put that aside for the moment and concentrated on getting back to Aylesbury. She had a baby to cope with, but she also had help. Red Jess was with her.

Jess had spent nearly all her life with the army, and if she'd ever kept track of her men, she'd stopped years ago. She'd married quite a few of them, too, and laid their bodies out. Kate had been surprised when the woman appointed herself her companion.

"I'm getting old, Kate," Jess had said. "I have a fancy to go home again. If I tire of it, I can doubtless come back."

Kate hadn't really believed the speech. Jess radiated vitality, and her ability to draw men hadn't waned at all. She hadn't argued, though. She'd discovered that a baby was a lot of work. An extra pair of hands would be very welcome.

Perhaps she would have been better without extra hands, though, and her mind occupied by work. Instead, the journey had given too much time to think.

Everyone in the army had thought her Dennis's doxy, but been happy to treat her as a widow, and Stephen as a normal child. But the army was used to irregular unions and illegitimate children. In Aylesbury, they cared about marriage lines and such. She believed that she would be treated as Dennis's legal widow, since she had left home to marry him. Could this belief hold, however, for the rest of her life? For the rest of her son's life?

She'd like to think so, but she doubted it. Partway through the journey, she'd thought of Dennis's family. Apart from his bogus great-aunt, she'd never met his relatives, but he must have some. At some point she would be expected to contact them and inform them about Dennis's son.

Even if she didn't they might hear about her. They'd doubtless drag her into court as an impostor!

Kate was by nature impeccably honest, and though in her heart she had truly been married to the man, she would feel as if she were living a lie.

The honest act would be to tell the truth. But that involved telling her parents and all who knew her that she'd been a fool and had no proof that she'd ever been legally married to the father of her child. Even if they believed her, her reputation would be tarnished, and her son would be viewed as a b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Unless, of course, she made her marriage to Captain Tennant public.

How could she do that to him, though? He must be feeling like a man waking up after a wild drunk wondering what follies he'd committed under the influence.

All in all, she thought wearily, as she hauled the baby and a couple of bundles from the wharf to a nearby inn, it might have been simpler to stay with the army, where no one looked at these matters too closely.

At the inn, Kate took care of the baby while Jess booked places for them on the coach to London, from whence they would go to Aylesbury. Her mind continued to run round and round the problems like a chicken with its head cut off. And just as uselessly.

Straightening from bending over Stephen on the bed, she sighed. Perhaps her problem was just lack of sleep. The baby was waking her three or four times a night these days, and though Jess sometimes tended him, Kate always had to feed him. A good stretch of sleep was a long-forgotten fantasy.

When she was home it would be better.

As soon as they were settled into the crowded coach she dozed off, only to be awakened by a demanding cry. At least she'd grown adept at putting Stephen to the breast discreetly, and Jess had shown her how to alter her dresses to make it easier.

She still had the big shapeless one in her baggage, though, the one with the roughly cut slashes over each breast.

It was alarming the way the captain still dominated her thoughts.

She worried about his safety. He'd not been seriously wounded in the battle. That was all she knew. Irregular fighting had continued however, with some deaths.

Surely Charles the Bold wouldn't surrender to the dark. He was so vital, so strong, in mind as well as body. This was illogical, she knew. Dennis had loved life, but death had seized him.

She stroked Stephen's head beneath the big shawl that covered both baby and breast. He had hair now, but so fine and blond as to still be scarcely visible. She'd begun to detect a resemblance to Dennis in his soft features, too. How could she put Captain Tennant in the position of having to claim as his oldest son a child so clearly not his own?

But how could she live a lie?

Her head was aching with all this by the time they reached London and settled into a room at the Black Anchor Inn.

"I think I'll nip out and see if there's any news of the Buffs," said Jess, and was gone before Kate could object.

She shrugged. Probably Jess had ex-army friends in London that she wanted to meet. Men. Though Kate was fond of the woman, she had no illusions about Jess, who enjoyed the company of men a lot.

Kate wasn't sure she did. Once the bloom had worn off, Dennis had just been a problem to be handled-a problem rather like an unreliable pistol, likely to fire at unpredictable moments. Looked back on, the last months of their relationship had been exhausting.

As for other men, in the army she'd stayed with the women and not spent much time with the other soldiers. She'd only noticed the captain because he was so unignorable-big, graceful, powerful. A force, really, creating waves wherever he went.

Waves could leave people battered, as she was.

Not all men were so disruptive, though.

She sent her mind back before Dennis, to her years working in her father's bookshop, chatting to the customers, mostly male. She'd enjoyed that, especially talking to the older gentlemen. The young ones tended to embarra.s.s her with attentions, not always honorable. She'd particularly disliked flattery from married men. It had made her feel soiled.

And now here she was, to all intents and purposes a soiled dove.

Tears of weakness threatened and she blew her nose.

d.a.m.n all men!

But perhaps not Captain Tennant.

Jess came back late and a little drunk, but Kate pretended to be fast asleep. Stephen, for a blessing, only woke her once in the middle of the night so that she felt a little more like herself the next morning. A maid brought breakfast to their room and as they sat to it, Jess pulled a much-folded news-sheet from her pocket.

"One of my friends had finished with this, luv, so I thought you'd like it. Thought you might read it aloud like, since I don't read much."

A touch of color in the woman's weather-worn cheeks confirmed that she didn't read at all. Kate hadn't seen a recent newspaper in over a year and so she picked it up willingly enough. Holding it one-handed she read out bits of political and court news. Seeing Jess enjoyed the sensational news of trials and hangings, she read those in detail.

Then she stopped.

"What's the matter, luv?"

Kate scanned the brief item again. "There's an account here of the trial of Jem Suffolk for highway robbery and murder. The victim was apparently a certain Thomas Tennant of Ess.e.x, heir to Viscount Jerrold."

"Did you know this Jem Suffolk?" Jess asked, her mouth full of excellent ham.

"No, of course not. It just struck me that Tennant is the same name as Captain Tennant." And Thomas was the name of his cousin.

"Oh, aye. And the captain's connected to some lord or other. He's what they call a black sheep, though I've never seen the point in calling 'em that. Black wool's valuable for weaving."

"Do you know what his relationship is to Lord Jerrold?" Kate asked, a nasty sinking feeling threatening to disgorge the ham and eggs she had just eaten.

Jess shook her head. "But in line to become a lord 'cept for a few others. Or that's what they say."

Kate clung to that "few others," but when she climbed into the Aylesbury coach she knew she certainly wouldn't tell anyone about her strange marriage just yet. If Captain Tennant were now closer to inheriting a t.i.tle, the question of his legal heir would become a touchy one indeed.

Aylesbury hadn't changed.

After a moment, Kate wasn't sure why she'd thought it would have, but she'd changed so much, gone through so much, that it caught her by surprise. The White Hart's sign was still so faded as to be hardly readable, and she immediately saw a number of people she knew.

And who knew her.

In moments a crowd had gathered.

"Why, it's Miss Dunstable!"

"Kate!"

Then they saw the baby and remembered. "You married, didn't you? Home to see the family? What a nice surprise!"

Kate took a breath and said the words. "My husband died."

Silence fell, then she was enveloped in a new babble, a caring, loving fuss that carried her along the High Street toward her home.

"Oh, you poor dear."

"A soldier, wasn't he ... ?"

"Still, you have a child."

The crowd turned into a lane to stop before the double bow-front of her father's shop.

Augustus Dunstable Esquire, Purveyor of Books, Pamphlets, and Writing Materials.

It, too, hadn't changed.

Tears started to escape and Kate bit her bottom lip.

The commotion had been heard and the door swung open, bell jingling, to reveal Kate's mother, short, plump, abundant gray hair tucked into a cap.

"What's amiss .. . ? Kate! Husband, it's Kate. And with a baby!"

Kate hardly knew what happened next until she was ensconced in the small parlor with a teacup in her hand. Her mother was crying by now, with happiness to see her and ecstasy at the tiny grandchild in her arms. Her father in his wheelchair was smiling and nodding, though as usual saying little. This certainly was not the time to embark upon her sorry tale even if she'd intended to.

"Oh dear," said her mother for perhaps the tenth time, "it is so sad about poor Lieutenant Fallowfield. Such a charming young man. I did have doubts, dear, about you marrying a soldier. But so brave, I'm sure. And this little one his image. His very image! I'm sure it will be a consolation to his family."

Kate's mother didn't put stress on the words and Kate let them flow by. It was as she'd thought, however. Life was not to be simple.

She'd thought of Dennis's family as a problem to be avoided. Her mother was right, however. They were doubtless grieving and could be comforted by knowledge of his child.

He'd casually mentioned that his family lived in the Midlands, but nothing more than that. As far as she knew he'd never received letters from them, or sent any. He'd certainly received no funding, for he'd often lamented having to live on his army pay.

Perhaps he didn't have close family. She clung to that. In fact, she was driven to say, "Dennis had no family."

"No family?" asked her mother, looking up from the baby. "Oh, the poor man! But what about that great-aunt?"

"Oh, yes. Well, he had her." Kate was about to say that the old lady was dead when she realized that would raise questions about the supposed inheritance. "But she's a recluse and very unpleasant. I'd not want to take a baby there."

To her, the words sounded wooden and she was sure she was coloring with guilt. She hated to lie.

"Perhaps when he's older, dear," said her mother. "There was an inheritance wasn't there? It would be foolish to deny little Stephen the chance of it."

"I suppose so."

Perhaps everything could be put off until Stephen was older. In time, surely some solution to this tangle would occur to her.

Jess, it appeared, had a mind to stay with Kate for a while, and since her parents had few servants, it was convenient to have her play nursemaid and general help. "But good behavior, Jess," Kate warned. "My parents are well-respected here and I'd not want any scandal."

"I can be proper as a church cat when I've need to, Mrs. Fallowfield," said Jess, addressing her as a proper servant should and even bobbing a curtsy.

It occurred to Kate for the first time that Jess must believe that she'd never been married to Dennis. That she was lying to everyone. It was tempting to raise the th.o.r.n.y issue, but even more tempting to ignore it.

Kate did such a good job of ignoring everything that it was three days before she made herself go into the shop and pick from the shelves a guide to the n.o.bility of Great Britain.

As well as running the bookshop, her father was a collector of books and the store operated as a sort of library open to the public. He kept reference books of all kinds, and genially a.s.sisted people to find the information they needed.

Kate was equally adept at searching the books for facts.

She flicked through the guide to the page devoted to Viscount Jerrold. Montague Arthur Tennant, born 1683. Married 1709 Mary FitzMarshal. Issue: Mary 1710, Catherine 1713, Thomas 1715, Eliza 1720, Elizabeth 1727.

Only the one son? But Thomas had been thirty at his death. Surely he would have married and produced sons of his own?

Her eyes scanned down over details of the estates owned by Lord Jerrold to find the section on the heir.

Thomas Arthur Tennant. Married 1742 Sophie Earlingham. Issue: Mary, 1743.

Kate flipped back to the t.i.tle page. This was last year's issue! He could well have a son by now. Please let there be a son.

Then she calmed herself. Even if there was not, Captain Tennant might not be next in line. Nothing in this book could tell her, though. What she needed was a directory of notable families.

She soon found one, but it was ten years out of date. It might suffice. This book was arranged by district, and she turned to the page on Strode Kingsley, Ess.e.x.

The princ.i.p.al house of the area was Marchmont Hall, home of Montague Arthur Tennant, Viscount Jerrold, and his family as given above. At Oak House lived the Dowager Lady Tennant and Miss Eliza Tennant, doubtless one of the dowager's daughters acting as companion. The dowager would be Lord Jerrold's mother.

At Grailings lived Mr. Charles Tennant, his wife, two sons and two daughters. The sons, in order of age, were Charles and Arthur. She noted that the captain was just thirty-one years of age.

Kate slowly closed the book. Unless Thomas had sired a son shortly before his tragic death, Captain Charles Tennant was now heir, after his father, to a t.i.tle.

"What are you digging around in there for?" asked her father amiably. "There's no need to work, my dear, now you have a babe to tend to."