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Part 12

atrina had heard her brother's voice call out above the crowd and her head went up immediately. She did not know how Frederick had chanced to be in the Stenning's ballroom tonight but she knew something was not right.

"Anne," she realized starkly, going pale. "Something is wrong with Anne. I must find Frederick!"

Gathering her skirts, Katrina began pushing her way through the throng, knowing that at her short stature this would not be an easy task. But she found that the Marquis was behind her, parting the waves so that she could move. Until the tall, dark beauty that Ross had been talking earlier came into view.

"Dear me, we are in a hurry, aren't we!" Lavinia Haliford drawled lazily, her violet eyes examining Katrina from head to toe. "Is there a fire of some sort, Miss Wentworth, that causes you to move so erratically?"

Katrina's blue eyes were snapping sparks of frustration. It was one matter to see Ross escorting this woman, but for her to obstruct her passage when Anne was in danger, set fire to something deep within her.

"Pray excuse us, Lavinia," the Marquis told her sternly. "We must see to Mrs. Wentworth at once. You are in the way."

"Oh, your dear sister-in-law," Lady Haliford remarked dryly, taking her time to move out of the way. "I believe she has fainted. Do forgive me, I did not mean to block your path."

Katrina had no time for the beauty's childish games and stepped behind her without a backward glance, the Marquis at her heels. Lady Haliford sniffed imperiously but those around her saw the thinly disguised jealousy looming in her eyes. She had seen Major McGrath looking after the little country girl as if she were the only woman present in the room.

"I've tried to catch Ross McGrath for four years now," thought the proud, insolent woman. "And I am not prepared to stand aside and allow a little upstart from Devon with no wealth or connections to push me aside."

Katrina saw that Ross was capably moving the dancers back so that Anne might get some fresh air. Frederick, who had gone pale himself, was holding her in his arms and murmuring to her gently. When his eyes rose to meet Katrina's, she saw the palpable relief in his face.

"Katrina, where is the Library?" he asked urgently. "We must take her there as well as find Dr. Mills. Can you help me?"

"Of course, the Library is just down the hall," she quickly answered, taking in the equally white pallor of Anne, who had not moved or stirred. "Come, we shall go there at once."

Ross was at her elbow and she was glad of it. "Dr. Mills is in the billiard room with some of the gentlemen," he told Frederick. "I shall fetch him at once."

The Marquis was leading the way so that Katrina and Frederick, lifting Anne up gently in his arms, could make their way out of the ballroom. His eyes never moved from his wife's face. Ross immediately made for the Billiard Room to locate the doctor.

Sophy, who was standing nearby with Mrs. Carruthers, was joined by Elise. "I am sure she was merely overheated, Mrs. Croft," Elise kindly said, linking arm with hers. "I was growing rather hot myself. Was that Captain Wentworth who carried Miss Anne from the room just now?"

"Yes, it was my brother," Sophy weakly told her. The entire event had rattled her greatly. She ought to have seen that Anne was faint earlier. Instead she had been blathering on to Mrs. Carruthers about her and the Admiral's voyage to Lisbon. "It seems that Frederick appeared at exactly the right moment."

"Open your eyes, little one," a beloved, husky voice urged from afar. "Please...for me."

Struggling to make her way through the fog that had descended over her senses, Anne gave a slight groan. At least the oppressive heat was no longer present. And the pounding in her head not so loud.

"Her color is coming back nicely," another voice added. "She'll be 'round in a few moments, Frederick. Never fear."

Beneath her, Anne felt something move and her heart gave a great leap. She was leaning against a firm foundation she knew better than her own self. She was safely held in the arms of her husband, his strong chest beneath her. It was such a heavenly feeling after being apart from him for so long that she sighed with utter joy.

"Anne," Frederick was urging. "Wake up, darling."

Blinking her eyes slowly, Anne felt his gaze on her before she saw it. Yes, it was Frederick. Those eyes she loved so well were boring into her with such loving concern that a hint of tears rose in her own. He was truly here. It had not been a dream after all.

"Welcome back, my love," he murmured softly, his mouth brushing her lips lightly. He didn't care if he shocked Tertius or not. "I know it was a great shock for you to see me again after such a long absence, but was it truly so disturbing?"

Unable to suppress the chuckle that rose to her lips, Anne reveled in her husband's smile. Frederick felt as if he could truly breathe for the first time since she had fainted. It had been like a scene from a nightmare, so like the time she had been poisoned. When he had thought she had been taken from him forever.

"Now that is the kind of noise I like to hear from my patients," Dr. Mills remarked, winking at Frederick. Anne tore her gaze from her husband and saw that he was at her feet, which were now bare. How had her dancing slippers disappeared? "How do you feel, Mrs. Wentworth?"

"I....it was so very hot," she murmured, remembering. "And I was feeling dizzy. That is all I remember."

"Tertius, is she all right?" Frederick asked quietly, his voice low and anxious. "And the baby?"

"It is likely as she said, Frederick. That room was like a hothouse garden. But allow me to examine Mrs. Wentworth and we shall see," Dr. Mills told him. As the doctor performed his examination, Frederick remained where he was. Something inside of him would not allow him to be parted from her for even a few moments. He had to be assured that she was safe, that she was not in danger.

"Frederick, how on earth...did you get here?" Anne asked, looking up at him with wonder. She could easily see how fatigued he was from the lines beneath his eyes.

"As I told Sophy, I could not stand being parted from you any longer," he explained, holding a glass of cold water to her lips. "Drink this down, darling. That's it," he said, his eyes never getting their fill of looking at her. "So George argued my case and I left as soon as I could take leave. I rode hell for leather to get here. Are you happy I have come?"

"Oh Frederick," she breathed with relief, putting the glass aside. "How can you ask such a silly question? I...I have missed you more than I thought possible. And your letter...I was so disappointed you were not coming home."

"Hush now," he murmured, kissing her eyes, her cheeks with care. "That is all forgot. It is you that matters most, my love. You and our child."

"The baby appears to be unharmed," Dr. Mills finally said, rolling down his sleeves. "But I am not so pleased with the mother's health."

His throat tightening, Frederick drew Anne more closely against him as if to protect her from harm. "What is wrong, Tertius?"

"It is nothing to be greatly alarmed about," he explained. "But Mrs. Wentworth is suffering from a mild case of toxemia...too much sodium in her system. That is why her feet are swollen. Have you been thirsty of late, ma'am?"

Nodding, Anne remarked, "I have been drinking water a great deal. Is that not safe?"

"No, no, you must drink as much water as you like," he assured her, drawing up a chair beside the sofa. "But you must also stay off your feet as much as you can. And get more rest. You are now supporting two lives, my dear, instead of just your own. That means you must make adjustments."

Frederick nodded. "She will do so at once, I promise you. I shall see to it myself, for I am going to be here to watch after her."

Alarmed, Anne's eyes flew to meet his. "But Frederick, you are needed in London," she protested weakly. "You cannot stay here in Lyme looking out for me. I could not bear it if your reputation were harmed."

His strong fingers brushed her cheek lightly, lovingly. "You are my life, Anne, you and the baby," he told her softly, with a hint of that no-nonsense attitude she knew all too well. "The Navy can spare me until you are back in health. Do not upset yourself so. The decision is made. We shall not discuss it any further."

"I wish all my young mothers had such doting husbands," Dr. Mills said to Anne, smiling in admiration of his friend. "You are in the safest hands I know, Mrs. Wentworth."

"Yes, doctor," she murmured in agreement, resting her head in the warm curve of her husband's neck. She knew herself to be one of the most undeservedly blessed women in the world. "The very best hands."

Some moments later, Dr. Mills came out of the Library to be met by Katrina. He was happy to inform her of his prognosis.

Katrina's unwavering gaze was on Dr. Mills, although she was feeling somewhat faint herself from the emotional upheaval she had experienced. "She is all right, then? She and the baby?"

Admiring her concern and courage, the doctor nodded confidently. "The baby is just fine, Miss Katrina. And so will your sister-in-law be. She has her husband with her now and that is better than any medicine I could provide for her."

Grateful, Katrina shook his hand and felt a hint of tears forming. "Thank you for looking after Anne so capably," Katrina softly told him. "Knowing she is going to be all right gives me great relief, sir."

As the doctor moved away to speak with Lord and Lady Stenning, Katrina turned to slowly move down the hall toward the Gallery. She needed a moment or two to think, to gather her wits. As she turned the corner, she bumped into something hard and unmoving.

"Katrina, you've had a terrible night," Ross' kind voice met her ears. "Is Miss Anne and the baby fairing better now?"

"Yes," she breathed, feeling as if she might burst into tears at any moment. "They...she....will be just fine..."

Her voice trailed off and Katrina's hands meshed unconsciously, her ability to speak properly impaired. She was so relieved that they were all right. Her blue eyes flew to meet his and Ross knew what he must do.

Carefully, gently, Ross drew Katrina into his arms so that she nestled there. Her quiet, shaking sobs were softened by his coat as she began to cry her relief. She had been so afraid, so very afraid that Anne might lose the baby. She had been dancing, acting like a giddy schoolgirl, instead of looking after Anne as she had promised Frederick. How could she have been so foolish?

"Frederick...will be so angry...." she murmured against his shoulder, not caring that her face was red and streaked with tears. His arms were holding her close, supporting and enfolding her as never before. As he never would again. "He should...be angry with me."

"Now, now, I won't hear any of that talk," Ross gently chided, his arms drawing her closer still. She was such a sweet, soft armful, he thought. He had never felt like this in his life. He felt as if she had always belonged just where she was, in his embrace and against his heart. "If anyone is to blame it is me. I should have realized she was faint and taken her off the floor immediately. So do not blame yourself, my fairy."

She wished that she might remain in his arms forever, to feel so safe and protected. Little did she know that Ross was wishing the same thing. But they might be discovered at any moment. And she did not want him to feel ashamed or uncomfortable. Katrina slowly drew back from him, her eyes falling to her feet. "You must think me...a terrible watering pot, Ross," she whispered. "And I've gotten your coat terribly wet."

His hand, going beneath her chin, lifted her face so that her eyes met his. The look of tenderness in his eyes was almost too much for her to bear, knowing he did not love her. "You are a brave, courageous, caring woman, my Titania" he quietly told her, admiration in his voice. "And I doubt there is nothing you could not accomplish."

From down the hall she could hear Lord Stenning calling for her. "Miss Katrina, where are you?"

Ross reached out and took her hand in his, linking their fingers. "Uncle Charles is likely wishing to discuss the unveiling with you, now that Mrs. Wentworth is all right. And I promised Sophy Croft I would tell her how she was faring. Will you be all right?"

It took every ounce of will in her body to not tell him no, she was not all right. That she loved him and wanted him to continue to hold her until everyone left the house and it was only the two of them. Without Lavinia Haliford, his diplomatic post, or her lack of wealth standing between them.

Ross was struck by the unworthy look in her damp eyes and he squeezed her hand tightly to give her courage. She had no idea how much she had grown to mean to him. How precious she was. With his other hand, he took out a handkerchief and tenderly dried her tears. The gesture made her feel like weeping afresh.

"I will be fine," she finally said, looking away from him and releasing his hand. "Thank you...for taking pity on me, Ross. Now excuse me as I must speak to your uncle. Please tell Sophy I shall return shortly."

As Katrina turned and gracefully moved down the corridor, her skirts rippling behind her, Ross shook his head slowly. "No, my fairy, it was not pity," he thought. "Far from it."

A servant approached him then with a note. "Tis a dispatch for you, my Lord," the footman said. "Just arrived by messenger, it did."

Thanking the man, Ross took the document and opened it quickly. As his blue eyes scanned the words, he felt himself growing cold inside. It was as he had feared. His pleasant idyll in Lyme was definitely at an end. The Duke of Helstone was demanding his presence in Dover at once to discuss a wrinkle that had arisen in France.

Folding the note up, Ross looked down the Gallery corridor with longing. Katrina's light scent still lingered, haunting his senses like a dream he could not shake from his memory

Never did he find his imminent departure from this seaside town more difficult or unwished for than he did this night.

Part 13

Katrina was descending the stairs to see if she might assist Martha in preparing luncheon, when she saw her brother coming out of the library. His expression lightened considerably upon catching sight of her and he beckoned her to join him.

"Come here, my dear," he invited in a low voice, standing in the doorway. "I've a favor to ask, if you please."

She quickly joined him in the comfortable room and he closed the door behind her. Katrina saw that he looked more relaxed, more at peace than he had last night. Anne was upstairs resting, and he was more than pleased to find she was feeling more like herself again. That gave Katrina great comfort as well.

"Martha is preparing some of her mint tea for Anne just now," Frederick told her quietly as she sat down. "And I would like for you to take it up to her. Much as I like and am fond of Martha, Anne needs her rest and Martha is wont to hover over her like a mother hen these days. I know she would so enjoy a good chat with you about the rest of the party last night, too."

Katrina looked down at the carpet, her guilt weighing heavily on her. She and Frederick had not had an opportunity to talk over the events of the preceding evening. She had stayed only long enough for the unveiling of the portrait and then departed with Sophy. Frederick had taken Anne home as soon as Dr. Mills had said he might and had remained with her all through the next morning. He had only now come downstairs to see to some dispatches the Admiral had sent him that morning.

"Frederick, I...I am so sorry," she murmured sadly. "You must think me the worst sister in the world for having left Anne alone last night at the party. If I had been with her--"

"Katrina, I won't hear you talk in that fashion," Frederick interrupted firmly, sitting beside her on the sofa and taking her hand up in his. She looked up and found the same steady, affectionate gaze she had always found there. "It was your night to enjoy, to take pleasure in. You have had so little of it in your life, my dear. So do not even begin to blame yourself for what took place. Anne was with Sophy, mind you. She was in good hands. You and the Major were of invaluable assistance to me in taking her out of the room and finding Dr. Mills. The Major is a good man, Katrina. I am pleased that you have formed a friendship with him."

Katrina smiled faintly, ruefully at the mention of Ross. She had not seen him since she had wept all over his coat in the corridor of Stenning Hall. Elise had told her that he had been summoned to Dover on a matter of vital importance. No one knew when he would return. So it was highly likely she would never see him again.

"It is just as it should be," Katrina had thought to herself. "So I may learn to go back to my life as it was before I met him...and shared his laughter, the light of his eyes on summer day. I cannot let this haunt me."

"Anne had been writing to me about how she has enjoyed having you here," Frederick continued, sensing she did not wish to discuss the Major. "She tells me you have been like the sister she never had, and I must thank you for that, my dear. Thank you for making my Anne so happy."

Smiling with true happiness now, Katrina squeezed his hand in return and told him, "It is she who has done me the kindness by making me feel as if this is my home. I so love being in Lyme...and talking with Anne and Sophy. It has been so wonderful to be here, to be near the sea."

Frederick watched her with brotherly admiration. She truly had grown into a lovely young woman, his little sister. Not only was she intelligent and talented, she had a kind heart. He hoped she would be pleased with his next statement.

"Katrina, before you go to Anne, I wanted to tell you something," he began. "Anne and I have talked about you a good bit even in the short time since my return. She and I both have agreed that we should like for you to stay with us in Lyme even after Edgar returns to England. We would like you to make our home...your home, my dear."

A look of utter surprise and happiness filled her heart-shaped face. Such a small thing and it had made her so happy, Frederick thought with a tightening feeling in his chest. "Oh Frederick, you cannot mean it," she breathed in amazement. "I would not presume to do such a thing, to invade your privacy like that."

Shaking his head, Frederick told her, "Not at all. The house is quite big enough for all of us. It is highly likely that I shall not return to sea when the conference is over. I want Anne to raise our child in a stable environment and we cannot do that if I am sailing on long voyages. And even if I do return to sea, we shall keep the house and you can remain here with Anne. I highly doubt she would let you out of her sight now."

Katrina could barely contain her joy. She threw her arms round his neck and embraced him as she had as a child. "Thank you," she whispered, her heart full of gratitude. "Thank you, dear brother, for giving me...a real home!"

Holding her close, Frederick thanked God for his wife for having suggested the plan. To make Katrina this happy was well worth any changes they might have to make in their style of life. His sister had known so little of family happiness. To give her this was only a token of his regret that he could not have done more sooner. "It is I who thank you, Katrina," he told her, his voice moved.

Sitting on the edge of Anne's bed an hour later, Katrina was glad to see that her sister-in-law looked rested and in good spirits.

"I am so glad Frederick sent you to me," Anne told her, grinning. "I have so enjoyed having him home again, as you know. But you must tell me about the rest of the party, my dear. Sophy hardly said a word to me about it, but she did tell me that everyone adored Elise's portrait."

Flushing prettily, Katrina thought of the unveiling. Lady Stenning had actually wept with joy, to her amazement. She had embraced her and called her "an angel" for capturing her daughter with such a realistic portrait. As a result, Lord Stenning had showered her with thanks. She had been quite glad to be bundled into the Admiral's coach with Sophy to return to the house. Being surrounded by inquisitive people, curious to know about her talent, had not been something she wanted to be a part of again. She had done it for Ross, and for no other reason than to give Lady Stenning pleasure.

"I am simply pleased she found it suitable," Katrina murmured, looking away at the soft September sunlight against the curtains. "But I was quite happy to come home and make certain you were safe and feeling better."

"I am only sorry you felt you must return so quickly," Anne told her sincerely, patting her hand. "You ought to have stayed, you know. There were a number of young people there whom I know you would have talked to. And the Major was certainly the first to wish to share a dance with you."

Katrina shook her head. "The Major was called away...on important diplomatic business," she explained, her voice striving to remain normal. "So there was no opportunity for dancing. I...I am sure he was the better for not having done so."

Anne's hazel eyes missed nothing as she sat up a little straighter, leaning back against the pile of pillows Frederick had carefully arranged for her. "Katrina, I do not wish to intrude in any way. But if you would like to talk to me about the Major, I promise I shall listen. I know what it is like to have no one to confide in...and it can be terribly lonely."

Katrina's eyes swung to her sister-in-law with gratitude mixed with uncertainty. She had never spoken intimately with Anne about Ross. She had not wanted to even speak of her feelings for him to anyone. To give voice to them in any fashion. But she felt if she did not share her thoughts, to talk to her confusion, that she would go mad.

Sensing her wariness, Anne remarked, "I know that I may seem an unlikely person to talk with concerning affairs of the heart, being a newly married woman. But you may rest assured that the path to marriage for Frederick and I had its fair share of twists and turns."

Her interest piqued, Katrina remarked, "Sophy told me you had met Frederick in the year six. When he was a young sailor with hardly a feather to fly on. Were you engaged then?"

"Oh yes," Anne confirmed, nodding her head. "He was a dashing, charming, intelligent, young man with everything ahead of him. And so it was little wonder I fell in love with him. But at that time I was only 19. And my mother had been...gone for some years. Lady Russell, our neighbor, was my true mother after that. She advised me to refuse your brother, because his prospects were uncertain, and because she feared for me. My own father was not inclined toward the match either. And I feared I might tie Frederick down somehow from reaching his naval ambitions...saddling him with a young wife so soon."

Katrina could easily see Anne's dilemma. Frederick, she remembered, had been very happy-go-lucky in those days, relying heavily on his charm and way with people to gain his successes. She could see why Lady Russell had wanted to protect Anne from an imprudent marriage.

"Poor Frederick," Katrina murmured, quickly adding, "And poor Anne. It must have been horribly painful for the both of you."

"It was," Anne agreed, her memory full of those days. "I knew I should never love anyone as I did Frederick. And as the years passed, I tried to put him behind me. But I would often wonder what had become of him. How he had done in the Navy. Little did I know that his sister would become the new tenant of my family home, Kellynch. That...was quite a jolt."

Nodding sympathetically, Katrina said, "I can imagine the shock. What happened...when you saw my brother again?"

"I was ashamed of myself," Anne softly admitted, remembering that morning in Mary's kitchen. "He was even more dashing, more handsome, more brilliant than he had been before. Whereas I had faded into obscurity, my looks having vanished and my animation quite gone. It was not a good start for us. Frederick...was still quite angry at me for having ended our engagement all those years ago. We barely spoke to one another for a number of weeks."

"But I am sure he soon saw he still loved you," Katrina surmised. "My brother does not give his heart easily, I know. I think I always suspected that he was carrying a torch for you by things he would say in his letters. Your name was never mentioned. But as a sister, I had my notions."

"Well, it took time for us to reunite," Anne continued. "He nearly became engaged to another girl, but she married a brother sailor of his. I was being pursued by my cousin at the time. I am afraid Frederick became rather jealous of him."

"That sounds like Frederick," Katrina commented, smiling. "Did he fight to win your hand a second time?"

"Something very like," Anne said, not wanting to think of Mr. Elliot any longer. It was too upsetting. "The important thing we learned was that we had both remained constant to each other despite the estrangement. While we had both learned difficult lessons and matured, grown, so had our love. So when we renewed our engagement it was with a much greater bond than the one we had first known."

"How lovely," Katrina murmured softly, her eyes soft. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I see the way Frederick looks at you. I...I suppose I wish that a man would somehow...feel that way for me in time."

"But the Major likes you very much," Anne gently assured her. "The entire time he was dancing with me, his eyes were following you and the Marquis. You cannot deny that he enjoys your company, my dear."

"Perhaps," Katrina admitted. "But he could never think of me beyond our friendship, which is something I am grateful to have had. He...he is important. He is a great man with great wealth and land. And I have so little to offer him. To think he would ever love me...want to marry me....is utter foolishness. There are women...much more suitable to be his bride."

Shaking her head, Anne put her hand on Katrina's shoulder. "You must not think that way, Katrina. I do not know the Major as well as you. But I know he is an honest, good man who doesn't give a fig for rank or fortune. And you are not penniless. Your parents, from what Frederick tells me, left you a small but comfortable dowry. Not that the Major would care. He sees in you what we do...a sweet, attractive, talented, intelligent young woman with a great deal to offer."

"You...you are too kind," Katrina whispered, a hint of tears in her blue eyes. It touched her heart to know that Anne would speak so kindly to her when she needed it most. "But I can promise you...Ross only sees me as a little sister of sorts. Not as a suitable wife."

Anne's heart ached at the sound of raw pain in Katrina's voice. The poor girl had convinced herself she was not worthy of the Major's love. She rubbed Katrina's shoulder comfortingly, hoping to soothe that sorrow. Somehow she must know she was worthy of that love.

"Do not discount him so soon, my dear," Anne softly told her. "He may not understand his feelings just yet. It takes some men time to sort themselves out. Sometimes it takes something unexpected to jolt a man to his senses. Perhaps the Major will realize his true feelings for you whilst he is away."

"It does not matter," Katrina remarked, recovering her usual calm, positive attitude. She knew that bemoaning her fate would only make matters worse. "Because I would rather not think of it any longer. I...I was hoping to ask you a favor, Anne, if I may."

"You know you may ask anything of me," Anne assured her. "What is it?"

"Frederick tells me he is to stay here in Lyme for the next month," Katrina said slowly. "He wants to be with you to ensure your safe health. Sophy is proposing to return to Kellynch to see to the house and to visit some of her friends nearby. I...I should like to go with her."

Anne could see easily what her sister-in-law was doing. She did not wish to be present, when Major McGrath returned from Dover, something Anne was certain he would do as quickly as he could. She knew the man was fascinated with Katrina and would not be kept away long. Even by his work.

But she could also understand Katrina's wish to escape. To remain in Lyme and listen to Elise and the Stennings talk of the Major would be difficult. And Anne knew that Frederick would want to keep her confined to the house and grounds until she fully regained her health. Katrina would be lonely and at loose ends if she remained here. At least until Frederick returned to London. A change of scene might do her good.

"And if the Major returns and finds her gone, it might be the spur to his admiration," Anne surmised. "He might come to see how much he truly does care for her and pursue her to Kellynch. Even ask for her hand in marriage."

"I think a visit to Kellynch with Sophy would be very good for you," Anne said aloud. "The grounds are so lovely in the autumn. And you can take Bess with you to go on long walks. She will enjoy a visit back home, I think."

Smiling with gratitude, Katrina leaned over and kissed Anne on the cheek. "I have had two blessings today. In knowing I have a home with you and Frederick. And this journey to Kellynch. I...I shall grow quite spoiled, I think."

Smiling, Anne shook her head. "I highly doubt it, my dear. For spoilt is the last word I should use to describe you."

Part 14

anging his hat on a peg in the hallway, Frederick saw Martha coming out of the kitchen with a mug of cider, heading for the sitting room.

"Martha, are you taking that to Anne? I am going in to see to her so you may give it to me," he spoke quickly, taking off his coat.

"Oh, sir, ye've hardly left her side in the two weeks since ye came back," Martha gently chided. "Ye mustn't let me get lazy."

Laughing out loud, Frederick handed her his coat and took the mug from her. "I would never call you that, Martha. If you will take my coat, I would be much obliged."

The servant left to do his bidding and with purposeful strides Frederick moved down the corridor to the sitting room where Anne now spent a great deal of her time. He also had a letter from Sophy to share with her. Katrina seemed to be enjoying her time at Kellynch, although she was often quiet and withdrawn. Sophy had concluded that it was because she was separated from the Major.

"She is as sweet and helpful as always," Sophy wrote. "But her eyes seem almost haunted at times, brother. As if she is remembering him and mentally trying to push him away. She does not mention him, although I know that she and Elise Stenning maintain a happy correspondence. So I am seeking to get her out of doors and take her with me in the gig for drives about the farms. She tells me she enjoys it. We are to visit Mrs. Musgrove at Uppercross tomorrow and I am hoping that Katrina will show her some of her recent sketches. They are stunning as always. Strangely enough, the Marquis of Shelton is in the neighborhood and has paid a few calls. He seems quite taken with Katrina and her sketches. Of course he told us that he was in the area to enjoy to good hunting but my instincts tell me otherwise."

Frederick did not like to think of Katrina nursing a broken heart for the Major. He knew from personal experience how agonizingly painful it could be and wished to keep Katrina from facing a similar ordeal. Perhaps he should suggest that Sophy take her abroad for a short time, even invite Miss Stenning to join them.

Frederick had been more than relieved that he had chosen to stay in Lyme and be with Anne. Beyond the sincere pleasure of being with his wife again, he was thoroughly caught up in preparing for fatherhood. When he went out for a rare stroll with Harville, he found himself looking in the windows of toy shops. Or noticing the town women with their babies, seeing how they conducted themselves. It was a time unlike any other in his life. Harville often chuckled at him for his new habits, saying that "you're infected with the disease, Frederick, and I'm sure you'll never be cured. I'm still enthralled."

Frederick quietly entered the sitting room and his eyes found his wife asleep in his favorite armchair, her tiny feet propped up on a large ottoman as he had instructed. Autumn was making its presence known so her legs were covered with a light blanket and a fire was blazing in the grand hearth.

Frederick stood there watching her for some time, noiselessly setting down the mug on the sideboard. Her face was turned against the side of the chair, her lashes so dark against her skin. He never tired of watching her like this.

The past two weeks had been like an infusion to his soul, Frederick thought fondly. Just being in the same room with her did something powerful to him, gave him life and energy. He was also amazed at the changes that had taken place in her body since his departure. Now into her fifth month, she looked glowing and lovely, the swell of her abdomen apparent to all. Frederick found himself staring at her at times, awed at what was taking place before his very eyes.

Dr. Mills was pleased with her progress. The swelling in her feet was slowly decreasing and her thirst had also not been as strong. But he cautioned Frederick that she must remain off her feet and get her rest whenever possible. "I know that Mrs. Wentworth is accustomed to an active life, but we must err on the side of caution," he had remarked. Frederick meant to follow his instructions to the letter.

She was stirring now, blinking her eyes like a newborn kitten in the sun. She found her husband's warm gaze resting on her and she slowly smiled, warming Frederick's heart. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked sleepily, stretching her arms out before her.

"Long enough to conclude that you are the most lovely mother I have ever seen," he quietly told her, sitting down on the ottoman next to her feet.

Anne still had the grace to blush at some of her husband's compliments. But she never tired of hearing them. No, never. "How can you say such a thing when all I do is eat, sleep, and drink?" she asked playfully, taking the mug he gave her. "Ah, Martha's cider! What a lovely treat! And you brought it yourself. Is she occupied?"

Smiling guiltily, Frederick explained, "I was afraid she might wake you up, darling. I know you were a mite restless last night so I wanted to make certain you got your rest."

Taking a sip of the warm beverage, Anne sighed happily. It tasted of cinnamon, apples, and cloves, a perfect combination. She reflected on her husband's innate sense of consideration for her. Martha, bless her soul, had been pressing drinks on her ever since she had learnt of her mistress' condition. At times she would awaken Anne from a sound sleep to give her one. Frederick, while not wishing to be unkind to Martha in light of her devotion, had wordlessly sought to avoid such interruptions.

"You are much too good to me," she softly said, putting aside the mug and taking his hand in hers. Her fingers traced the gold band that had sealed their marriage over a year ago. At times she found it difficult to believe that she herself had placed it there. "How many expectant mothers have their husbands playing nurse to them? If news of this reaches Uppercross, I shall have Mary down here in a short time, trying to instruct Charles to pay her such attention."

Chucking, Frederick leaned over to kiss her forehead. "You know there is no place I would rather be than here with you," he told her lovingly. "And our baby."

With his free hand, Frederick gently covered her abdomen to make contact with the life growing there. He never tired of doing so, of simply touching her. Anne reveled in it, treasuring the fact that Frederick had taken such an active part in her pregnancy. Her other hand came down to rest on his.

A sudden movement caused her brows to knit and Frederick's breathing to halt. The baby had moved! Their eyes met and Anne nodded happily. "Yes, he's starting to move, Captain. Eager to be active just as his father is."

It suddenly came home to Frederick, as it had not before, that his wife was carrying a living, growing child. He had, of course, known this in his head. But to have felt the babe move, actually move against his hand brought his awareness to the fore. It shook him as nothing else could.

"Frederick, are you all right?" Anne asked anxiously, but there was a hint of mirth in her voice. Her husband looked rather stunned, an expression he did not often exhibit. "It is all quite normal, Margaret says. She tells me it is an excellent sign."

Taking in a refreshing breath, Frederick nodded slowly, still rather shaken. "Yes...but it is so amazing! Forgive me for seeming like a simpleton, little one."

His gaze softened as he took in her smile and he chuckled, her own soon chiming in. "You are laughing at me, you little baggage! Mocking a new father's bewilderment. I should take you over my knee but I would do nothing to harm the babe. Perhaps I shall think up another punishment for you! Something to truly make you penitent for making sport of a nervous father."

Anne's eyes glowed with anticipation. One lock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead, his eyes intent on their mission. He looked like a scheming little boy yet a passionate husband. The combination was quite riveting. "Deal out your worst, Captain, for I know your weaknesses all too well," she breathed with a hint of fire in her voice.

Frederick carefully lifted her up into his arms so that she was held intimately on his lap, taking care that her feet remained warmly covered. His warm breath mingled with hers as he kissed her lightly. She tasted of cinnamon and he felt a delicious frission of heat race through his body. He had only been away from her two months but since his return it seemed like he could never be close enough to her. To feel her nestled in his arms, those hazel eyes warming and inviting him. It made it rather difficult for him to remember that she was with child, that he must be even more gentle with her now.

He murmured with devilish intent, "Are you certain that a sweet, angelic creature like yourself should be ensconced so closely to a scoundrel like me? It could prove dangerous, my precious mother-to-be."

Her heart was already starting to beat quickly as Anne put her hands behind her husband's neck to draw him even closer, their foreheads touching. "Dear Captain," she whispered beguilingly. "I do believe that this is how I ended up in this predicament to begin with."

With a chuckle of pure enjoyment, Frederick eagerly proceeded to prove to his wife that he could indeed be a scoundrel...but of the very tenderest kind.

The autumn breeze nearly sent Ross' hat flying into the stream as he slowed his mount. Breathing deeply, he relished the scene with delight. In only an hour he would be in Lyme again. The very thought caused him to smile with barely disguised anticipation.

He had sent his carriage on to Stenning Hall from Bath, choosing to ride instead so as to enjoy the scenery of the changing leaves. It had threatened rain earlier but now the sun had shown its face again and chased the clouds away.

Dismounting the sleek bay, Ross let the horse drink thirstily. Just being back in Dorset again was a balm to his soul. For the past two weeks he had been in Spain sitting through one of most tedious negotiations he had ever witnessed. The so-called "emergency" that had sent him racing to Dover to meet with the Duke had not been a genuine crisis after all. Ross surmised that his colleagues in service had called for him in order to keep him active, to forestall any decision he might make to quit his duties. Ross already had several friends who were veterans of diplomatic service who had soured of being pushed from pillar to post for His Majesty's pleasure.

True, his presence had been helpful in keeping feathers from getting ruffled. The Spanish consul had a flair for the dramatic and was prone to throwing tantrums to get his own way. But Ross had calmly soothed the atmosphere a number of times and progress was finally made. It was an ability that many of his colleagues and superiors admired and envied in him.

He had extricated himself from the proceedings as soon as it was possible, taking his personal yacht to cross the channel. Because while he had been sitting in that elegant, well appointed conference room in Gibraltar, a truth that had been hovering for some time had begun to come home to him quite clearly.

At night a sweet fairy haunted his dreams, her dark blue eyes piercing through the haze. His hands would reach out to clasp her slim waist, to draw her against his heart. He could hear her laughter echoing like sweet music, waking him, only to find that he was sleeping alone in yet another unfamiliar bed in a foreign city.

He knew now that he loved Katrina Wentworth. Loved her with a painful yet wonderful knowledge that humbled and strengthened him as nothing had before. She was everything he had ever hoped for in a wife, a lover, a friend. She stirred his body and his heart, something he had never experienced before in his life. Ross knew he must have her for his own, to cherish and to look after for the rest of his life. To take that lonely, wistful look from her soft blue eyes.

That he had fallen in love had been something of an awakening for him. In the past, he had not even allowed himself to think at length about marriage, of family. As the earl, he knew he must some day marry and produce and heir to inherit Castle McGrath and its vast holdings. But his travels had kept him so occupied, not to mention the War. Now Katrina was all he could think about.

True, he was not a monk. He had known brief moments of pleasure on rare occasions in his travels as a younger, less wise man. But never had his heart, his mind been captured, fascinated, enthralled as they were now. Perhaps that was why it had taken him so long to realize it. Only when he was away from her gentle, warm presence could he see things clearly, ascertain his own mind. And every time it lead him back to Katrina. With growing fervency and longing.

The young bay lifted his head from the stream and Ross allowed him to wander into the meadow to munch on some grass. The sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees was invigorating, life-giving. It spurred Ross to once again contemplate the plans he had considered in Gibraltar.

He would quit the diplomatic service, have done with it for good. He had given nearly ten years of his life to it and the Army. Castle McGrath would be his home and he would make the improvements he had dreamed of for the last few years. And he would ask Katrina Wentworth to be his wife, to join him in this new adventure. He knew in his heart that all of his efforts would be nothing to him without her beside him, urging and inspiring him to do his best.

Smiling at himself, Ross checked his soaring ambitions. "Rein in, lad," he told himself silently. "You've not even asked the girl yet. She may wisely see what a rascal you are and reject you."

Walking slowly beside the rippling stream, Ross considered Katrina's feelings. He knew she enjoyed their conversations, their friendship. She was so unpretentious and open about it. And he felt that she must hold some kind of regard for him. He had seen the look in her eye that final night at the party when he had wiped the tears from her eyes. It had been vibrant, unspoken, and full of emotion, of wistfulness. Could it be for him, he wondered. He hoped with all his heart that it was so.

She was so lovely, so gentle and kind. To hold her in his arms for those brief moments had been a memory he would not soon forget. It was little wonder he was drawn to her. As was Richard Shelton, he thought almost bitterly. He hoped the man had not been paying court to her in his absence. The very thought of it made his Scottish blood start to boil. Richard was a good man but his charm was reputed to be quite legendary with the ladies. While he knew Katrina well enough to know she was not easily swayed, Ross did not wish to take any chances.

Whistling for the horse, Ross watched as the well-trained bay looked up and trotted walk over to where he stood. Sliding up into the saddle with ease, Ross headed over the field toward the main road that lead to Lyme.

The Marquis of Shelton accepted a glass of sherry from his close friend, Lord Shadwell. "A wonderful day of shooting, Harold," the Marquis pronounced, taking a drink. "And what excellent weather for it! You almost make me forget the unpleasant task that lies before me."

Lord Shadwell, well into his 50s, shrugged his shoulders. "It cannot be helped, Richard. The French government will not stand idly by whilst someone filches some of their finest antiquities. We have only just gotten out of a war. We do not want to start another."

Setting down his glass, the Marquis moved over to the large desk that occupied Lord Shadwell's library. It was covered in maps, papers, and other documents that detailed an unsettling situation. Someone had been quite cannily stealing antiquities out of some of the finest private homes in France. And now it was believed they were seeking to sell them in England.

"A Huguenot tapestry has already turned up in London," Lord Shadwell reminded him. "We cannot have this, Richard. So you must procure the artist for us at once. Have her circulate in the art world. How else can we properly identify the thief unless we have drawings of him to show the families he has stolen from? The reprobate is a master of disguise, we are told and goes by a dozen different names."

"That is all very well but can we not avoid this dreadful coil?" the Marquis asked. "She is only in her 20s. She has no experience with intrigue, with secrets. How can we expect her to do such a thing? Her brother is a distinguished captain of the Navy. He won't stand for it."

"I saw that portrait of Stenning's daughter and I knew then we must ask her," Lord Shadwell avowed, standing up. "And you yourself tell me she is a quick study, can easily sketch faces from memory. When we lost Robert Hollings to pneumonia last year, we lost our best sketch artist. There is no one else who can do it, Richard. No one with her knowledge of art, of antiquities. She is the perfect choice."

Gripping the glass, the Marquis set it down sharply. "She is also a close friend of Ross McGrath's. And an acquaintance of mine. I would not be surprised if an understanding existed between them. I cannot ask her to seek evidence against--"

"You must call on her sense of patriotism, of assisting her government, the royal family," Lord Shadwell cut in impatiently. "She need not know the truth, the true identity of the man we believe heads this ring."

The Marquis took a deep breath and expelled it. He had endured a great deal of stress and heartache for his involvement with serving his country. He had lost his wife to illness ten years ago and could not even attend the funeral, sent off on a mission to Africa. He often questioned himself as to whether the sacrifices he had made had been worth it.

And now he was being asked to enlist the aid of one of the sweetest, loveliest, most unsullied young women he had ever met.

"How can I not tell her that we are seeking to prosecute Ross' own brother on charges of international art theft?" he asked starkly, his voice full of anger. "Lawrence McGrath has eluded us for some three months now. We know he is capable of great deceit. Why must we drag Katrina Wentworth into it?"

Lord Shadwell firmly countered, "Because you have been ordered to do so, Richard. And that is all there is to it. You will discuss it with her tomorrow. She may very well refuse to cooperate. But you must do all you can to persuade her to do so. She is our only hope at this point. And McGrath is likely still slaving away in Spain on that treaty. He won't know anything about it. Only you, I, and the Duke know the particulars."

"It would kill Ross to know his brother was a thief," the Marquis muttered. "Damn it all, why must I be the one to do perform this monstrous task?"

Turning away from his friend, the Marquis took matters into his own hands and poured himself a second glass of sherry. He would need substantial fortification to endure the next 24 hours. For he was about to do something he hated more than anything in the world. He only prayed Ross would forgive him for what he was about to do.

Part 15

"Bess!" Katrina called fruitlessly, looking for any signs of the dog. "Do come back! Bess!"

After a moment, Katrina laughed at her own pathetic attempts to herd the Springer Spaniel. Bess had spotted a rabbit munching happily on a blade of grass not far from the stables and had dashed off in hot pursuit. Doubtless, she would not be returning until her adventure was over.

Making her way through her favorite little grove, Katrina ducked under a low hanging branch. She liked Kellynch very much. Its peaceful meadows, farms, and forests were soothing to her soul. It was exactly the perfect setting for what she needed most; healing for her mourning heart. Katrina could easily see how Anne had found it a comfort to be here after she had broken her engagement to Frederick.

Having been settled at Kellynch almost three weeks, Katrina had come to love the estate. While the house itself was at times a bit overwhelming because she was unused to such finery, the grounds were perfection itself. Sophy had softened the style of the furnishings somewhat in her year as tenant and Katrina knew it had been a great improvement.

She found herself taking long walks with Bess often. It enabled her to exert herself to the point of almost pushing Ross out of her thoughts. Almost...

One item that Katrina had not told Sophy about was her meeting with Ross' mother, Lady Grace McGrath. Katrina had gone to Stenning Hall to say good-bye to Elise when she had discovered that Lady McGrath had chosen to pay a call on her sister, Lady Stenning, and to visit her son whilst "on her roads" to London.

It had almost physically hurt to meet Lady McGrath, she thought, as she leaned against a tree, feeling the cool breeze on her face. The dowager, far from being elderly, was a small, agile woman whose dark hair was touched with silver. Her warmth had permeated the drawing room, her smile infectious.

"You must be Katrina," she had said when she had walked gracefully into the room, dispensing with curtsies and formal titles. "Ross and Elise have written me wonderful things about you. And Elise' portrait! A work of sheer perfection! I have so longed to meet you, my dear. Dearest Rose has not stopped talking of it."

Sitting down to tea with Lady McGrath, Lady Stenning, and Elise had been a wonderful afternoon she would never forget. Lady McGrath shared her son's ability to make everyone feel comfortable and at ease, her easy smile so engaging.

"Ross has told me how he must think quickly to keep up with you in conversation, Miss Katrina," she had commented when they had a moment alone. "And I have to tell you how delighted I was to hear it. I fear most of the ladies he meets with have very little interest in history and literature, two subjects Ross adores. He tells me you share his love of Shakespeare."

"The Major is too kind," Katrina had replied with a smile. "It is I who must remain apace with his sharp intelligence. But it has been a pleasure to talk and share ideas with Your Ladyship."

"Grace, you must call me, Grace!" she had insisted with a laugh. "I fear that the Southern ways are so frightfully formal. In Scotland we do not live by such conventions and I am glad of it."

Katrina had thought how easily Ross had asked the same thing of her in using his Christian name. What it must have been like to grow up in such a family! And how wonderful to be married to Ross, to know and love his dear mother. For she was one of the kindest, open-hearted women she had ever met. They had talked some time about the little school she wanted to open in one of the estate's villages for orphaned children.

"It has long been on my mind," Lady McGrath had told her. "And I do hope Ross is considering giving up this wearying work he does to come home. It would do my heart an even greater good to see him happily settled with a good woman at his side. I fear I am in want of seeing the nursery opened once again!"

Katrina's heart had given a great tremor at these words, knowing they were not spoken for her benefit. It was little wonder that Lady McGrath hoped her beloved son would settle down into a more domestic role and start a family. But in her heart Katrina knew she was the last candidate for becoming the new mistress of Castle McGrath.

"Lady Haliford...would make him the perfect bride," she thought to herself as she moved away from the tree, her eyes catching sight of a thrush flying overhead. "She would be the perfect hostess...and provide him with beautiful children."

Her time at Kellynch had not been entirely quiet. Sophy was kind enough to take her with her whilst visiting the tenants and some of her girlhood friends. And she enjoyed her visits to Uppercross to visit the Musgroves. Although she could not quite understand why Anne's sister Mary always seemed rather cross and out of sorts. She was not like Anne at all.

A servant was coming down the hill and Katrina hastened to meet him. Doubtless Sophy was in need of her help. The young man bowed and politely told her, "Mrs. Croft asks fer ya to come up t'house, miss. His Grace 'as come to call on ye."

"I shall come at once," Katrina assured him. "Do run back to house and tell them I am coming. I must fetch Bess first."

The servant left to do her bidding when Katrina heard a rustle in the hedge. Out of it came the Marquis!

"Your Grace!" Katrina exclaimed in surprise and pleasure, the gloomy expression vanishing from her face. "You have come out to me instead, I see. It is a pleasure to meet with you again."

The Marquis bowed almost formally but there was a twinkle in his gray eyes. "The servant will doubtless be telling his friends I am a true Bedlamite for sending him out then coming out here myself. But the autumn breezes are so delightful and I thought we might take a turn together."

"I would be pleased to show you more of the estate," Katrina agreed, flushing becomingly. "You must forgive my rather wild appearance but I was playing with my dog, Bess, who has gone after a rabbit."

"No apologies," the Marquis said, taking her hand over his arm. "You look like a healthy, blooming girl and that is what I like to see. Do tell me how you get on, my dear."

They talked of how she had been spending her time and the enjoyment she had received at lodging at Kellynch. Katrina had been surprised but pleased to find that the Marquis had visited her whilst in the neighborhood. He seemed especially interested in her sketches. So his visits had become an unexpected but welcome entertainment. He was so well read and so well travelled. They often talked of her work with Uncle Edgar and his research.

But this time Katrina sensed that beneath the Marquis' kind interest rested something else. He seemed to be half attending to what she said, as if thinking of something that troubled him.

"Katrina, I must ask what your plans are in the next few months," the Marquis asked quietly. "You may think me impertinent but I should like to know."

Looking up at him quizzically, Katrina slowly replied, "I...I shall likely return to Lyme with Sophy as soon as Frederick returns to London. Anne cannot be left alone, considering the state of her health. And...when the child is born she and Frederick have offered to make their house...my home."

"What a wonderful thing for you," the Marquis murmured thoughtfully, as they moved down the hill toward a view of the forest below. "So you shall not be returning to stay with your uncle in Devon?"

"I do not believe so," Katrina told him. "I had a letter from him only last week telling me that he was considering making his visit to Rome a permanent one. The climate there is agreeable to him and many of his friends are there. He had offered me a home with him there but I do not think he will be distraught if I make other arrangements."

Nodding, the Marquis was silent for a few moments as they reached the stone bench that enabled them to rest and take in the lovely view of the woodlands below. As they both sat down, Katrina sensed that he was thinking of what to say.

"Miss Wentworth, I believe you know that I often find myself employed in the service of the Prince Regent and the royal family," he began carefully. "But you likely do not know the extent of the involvement."

"No, I do not," Katrina agreed, wondering where he was going with this line of talk. "But I imagined you were also not at liberty to discuss it with outsiders."

"I find that I must do so now," the Marquis continued, measuring his words with infinite care. "Because a matter of grave importance has come to my attention. So important that I find I must seek your help."

Katrina went very still. Of all the topics she had imagined the Marquis to speak of, this was not one of them. What did he wish of her? "I should be happy to help you in any way I can," she slowly replied. "But I do not think there is anything I can do that would be of much help."

"Ah, but there is," he remarked with alacrity. He looked down at her small, gloved hands briefly and then returned his gaze to her inquiring blue eyes. "You cannot deny that you possess a unique gift, a God-given talent, to capture images on paper with ink and paint. I have had the pleasure of viewing your sketches and they are nothing short of perfection."

Blushing furiously, Katrina shook her head. "You are funning with me, sir. Do not speak so. I am untrained! I have never been taught by a famous master. It is merely a hobby, I promise you."

"That is the beauty of it," he told her quietly, his sterling eyes intent on hers. "You do not belabor under someone else's perceptions. But I must not divert myself too far from my point. Katrina, I have something I want to tell you but you must swear not to reveal it to anyone."

Her expression grave, Katrina nodded. "I promise I shall keep what you tell me in strictest confidence."

Over the next several minutes, Katrina listened to the Marquis as her amazement grew from surprise to shock to disbelief. She did not say a word as he quietly told her of the art thefts, of the French government's outrage, of the treachery of the thieves. It was as if she were living a strange, horrific dream. It hardly seemed real. But the serious look on his face told her otherwise.

"We need your help, Katrina," he was saying, watching her carefully. "We need you to circulate through the art world, to become acquainted with those that inhabit it. We have some very definite clues as to whom we think the thief is. And we need your artistic talent to sketch these suspects after you have met them. Your ability to sketch others long after they are out of your sight is uncanny."

Katrina looked up at him with suspicion. "But how can I be of help? They will see through me in an instant."

"They will not because I will be with you," the Marquis told her firmly. "We shall operate under the pretense that you are studying art to improve your technique. My cousin, Lady Drusilla Simmons, will act as your chaperone so no one's suspicions will be raised. She is the wife of Admiral Simmons, whom your sister knows from her days in the West Indies. And you will not be absent long. We hope to have the business concluded in a matter of weeks."

"But I am not a worldly woman, I am no spy," Katrina weakly protested, feeling as if she were uselessly attempting to fight her way out of a tightening net. "These are men practiced in the art of deception. Surely they will know what a novice I am by looking at my work, of listening to me speak."

"You know art, Miss Wentworth," the Marquis countered, inwardly hating himself for having to resort to such means. "And you are well acquainted with antiquities, history, and philosophies. That is what concerns these artistic types... not your youth or inexperience. And you need never fear for your safety. I will be with you or Drusilla. And she is well rehearsed in diplomatic work. She has assisted me in the past. We shall both be there to guide you."

"But Sophy will want to know why I am going," Katrina murmured, her hands uselessly plucking at her pelisse. "She will think me mad to go dashing off to London like a madwoman with people I am hardly acquainted with. And I am supposed to be looking after Mrs. Wentworth, my sister-in-law. Frederick will think me quite thoughtless."

"I have already spoken with Mrs. Croft," the Marquis smoothly told her. "Drusilla is with her now in the drawing room, one of the reasons I chose to meet with you privately out here. Your sister is in transports that your work has received such notice. She wants you to have every opportunity to study, to gain experience with talented artists. Mrs. Croft has suggested her own return to Lyme to see Mrs. Wentworth through the end of her confinement, if need be. She has also promised to pave the way concerning any anxieties Captain Wentworth may have on the matter."

Feeling rather overwhelmed, Katrina rose from the bench and moved a few feet away. It appeared that for whatever argument she offered, the Marquis had a plausible, rational answer for it. To continue to avoid his entreaty for help seemed almost senseless. It appeared that everything had been arranged neatly and swiftly. And if she turned him down she would be refusing to assist her country in catching a known thief.

"Perhaps you would like to think about what I have said," the Marquis gently said, seeing the visible emotional tug-of-war she was experiencing. "I know I am asking a great deal of you and I would not wish your decision to be made hastily."

Katrina did not reply right away. It was indeed a matter of great magnitude that loomed before her. She was still having difficulty getting her mind round the very notion. She...a spy! A random thought almost made her laugh aloud with ironic humor. All this time she had imagined Ross tackling matters like this, of being involved in mysterious forms of espionage and secrecy. Not herself!

"I...I must ask you one question," she softly remarked, her back to him. "Does...does Major McGrath know that you are asking me to do this?"

His heart beating fast, the Marquis was more than thankful that she was not facing him at that moment. It would have defeated him utterly. "He is not involved in this case in any fashion," he spoke almost woodenly. "Ross is not usually a part of such detective work. His area of expertise is sheer diplomacy, not art theft."

She swallowed hard, her eyes looking down at the trees swaying in the strong wind below. "Under no circumstance must he know that I am taking part in this scheme," she heard herself say, her voice stark and almost too loud. "For I fear he would be quite angry and I do not want to risk his displeasure."

The Marquis steeled himself mentally. She did not have any notion how close to the mark she was, poor girl. It took every nerve he possessed not to tell her the truth. That it was Ross' brother they were hoping to catch. That she would be assisting him in capturing Ross' closest blood relation.

"Ross will know nothing," he assured her, rising from the bench. "I swear that to you on my honor, Miss Wentworth. So we are agreed? You will travel with my cousin and I to London in four day's time?"

Katrina lifted her eyes to survey the horizon round her. It was so utterly beautiful here as fall descended silently over Kellynch. She had no wish to leave it. Or to leave her home in Lyme behind. She truly felt a home with her family. But what obligation did she have to either place?

Her other thought inevitably fell to Ross. What use was it to even think of him, she thought sadly. He is far away now and who knows if he shall ever return, much less wish to see me again.

For once, she thought with more confidence, she would be doing something vital, something important, instead of taking notes for Uncle Edgar or cleaning up after him. She would have a mission, albeit a dangerous one, and she would be using her talent to help her government. Although she could never breathe any of it another soul, she would know in her heart that she had truly accomplished something important and lasting in her life. She also knew she could not rest knowing that there had been something she could have done to help the Marquis.

"Miss Katrina?" came the Marquis' concerned, low voice.

Turning from the vista, Katrina lifted her chin as she moved the few paces to return to the stone bench. Thrusting out her hand, she told him with her forthright manner, "Yes, Your Grace, I shall accept your request," she told him as he took her small hand in his. "And may God protect us as we go."

Clasping that small, graceful hand in his, the Marquis silently prayed that God would forgive him for endangering and lying to her. For in that moment, he knew he had never met a young woman of greater moral fiber or courage in his life.

"His majesty thanks you, Miss Wentworth," he told her with quiet admiration. "As does his servant."

Part 16

"Here's t' post for ye, Mrs. Wentworth," Crispin Roberts told her as he handed her a small stack of envelopes. As if reading her thoughts, he added, "Sorry but no letter from t' Captain today."

Anne, bundled up well in her warmest cloak and bonnet, could not hide her disappointment. She had so hoped to hear from him today. "Thank you just the same, Crispin. How is little Mary faring these days? Has her new tooth come in?"

Grinning from ear to ear, the scruffy little man smiled. "Aye, it has. And two more besides, ma'am! She be cryin' like a banshee but my Liz is a good one wi' 'er. Ye must come and see 'er soon, ma'am. Liz 'd like a good visit wi' ye."

"I do wish that I could, but in my present state all visits are not allowed," Anne told him with regret. "But if Liz should ever have a spare moment, please tell her she is welcome here. Sophy and I would love to see her and the children, all of them. And Martha has not seen her for an age."

Crispin nodded. "I shall tell 'em whot ye said, ma'am. And I know she'll come as soon as Mary's in a better state. How are ye faring yerself, Mrs. Wentworth?"

Anne was humbled by the man's kindness. The Roberts family, their closest neighbor, had been a Godsend to her since Frederick's departure for London last month. Crispin and his son Bartholemew brought her fresh milk or a round of good cheese. Little Bart had even managed to bring her some fruit, although she was rather curious to his sources. He was cunning, she had to say that for the lad. And was always polite to her. His father insisted on it.

"I'm feeling very well, thank you, Crispin," she kindly told him. "But I fear I must return to the house now. That wind off the sea had a kick to it today, does it not?"

"Ye be right about that, ma'am," Crispin agreed, turning his horse toward the rise that lead toward town. "Drew in my nets early t' day. Smells like snow, I think. Saw a flake 'er two back down th' road a ways. Keep warm, ma'am, and I'll see ye in a few days."

Waving as Crispin spurred his rather world-weary mare into a trot, Anne then glanced down at the letters with curiosity. There were two from the Admiral for Sophy, his usual Friday post. And one from Katrina. Ah, that one she would savor before the fire with a mug of cider. And another from Mary, a thick one. No doubt she was detailing something the children were into, she thought with amusement. And complaining that Charles did not listen to a thing she said.

As she began the short walk down to the house, Anne drew her cloak more tightly around her. She was doing so well that Dr. Mills had not refused her request to take part in a little daily exercise. The toxemia had subsided and he was very pleased with her.

"You're heading into your seventh month now, my dear, so you must continue to be careful," he had told her just the day before. "I have no doubt you will be having some back pain and weariness now. But you are so blooming and smiling that I must say you're doing very well. A short walk cannot do any harm."

She knew she would be smiling even more if Frederick were home. He had only managed one leave of absence from the conference in the last weeks. After he had been assured of her return to health, Frederick had reluctantly returned to London in October. Sophy had come from Kellynch to help Martha look after her. But she still longed for her husband, her hands often reaching for his picture to gaze at it before she went to sleep at night.

Anne heard a short bark and then saw Bess dart out of the stable. Sophy had brought Bess with her when she had returned, something Anne had been happy about. Anne had been truly disappointed that Katrina had not come with her and was instead in London. Still, it was a wonderful opportunity for her to learn more about her talent and to mix with other people.

The Springer Spaniel bounded out happily, her ears flopping. Anne knelt to nuzzle her ears as the dog licked her face. "Now, Bess, you smell of horses and I won't have you into all sorts of mischief. Come, let's get you inside so you may have your dinner."

The dog ran into the house as Anne entered, happily taking off her bonnet and cloak. She lay them on the settle and headed for the Library, hoping Sophy had asked Martha to bring them some of her hot cider.

"Anne, you must be chilled straight through," Sophy told her as she entered the warm, cozy room. "Martha brought the cider in only moments ago, so do have some with me. It is there, on the sideboard."

Anne happily complied, handing Sophy her letters as she did so. "It was only to the top of the hill," Anne told her mildly. "It is such a short walk and I do like to breathe in some fresh air. But today I must admit it was colder than it has been all autumn. I was quite happy to turn back after chatting with Crispin a moment."

"Frederick would have my head if he knew you went out every day like that," Sophy remarked but her grin assured Anne she was not truly upset. "He worries about you so. But a little exercise is always good for the constitution, I say." She paused and asked lightly, "Oh, did you get a letter from Frederick today?"

"Not today," Anne admitted with a hint of regret in her voice, gathering up her thin shawl from the chair. "But I know he's so occupied with Major Thorpe that he hardly has time to pen a missive to me. I feel more than fortunate to have had him and the Admiral here two weeks ago when he got leave again. I had expected they would not let him go until Christmas."

Lifting one of the mugs from the sideboard, Anne drank the spicy cider with relief. Frederick had stayed with her until the middle of October before returning to London. It was now late November and she and Sophy had taken to spending as much time as they might near the fire knitting baby clothes or sewing little caps and gowns. They were also putting the finishing touches on the nursery as well.

Elizabeth had sent a package a few weeks ago containing some elaborate baby gowns that had made Anne smile. It was her sister's attempt at smoothing her way, she supposed. She had only seen Elizabeth once since her return to England and that had been a blessedly brief one. While Anne wished her elder sister well, she found it difficult to be with her after having suffered her slights after so many years. Her family was with Frederick now and his family was hers.

"That shawl is so thin, my dear," Sophy remarked distractedly as she opened her letter from Admiral Croft. "And here we are in the dead of autumn. I know how you take cold so easily. Should you not have a warmer one?"

"I have been confined to home so long I did not think of it," Anne confessed to her. "My favorite Norwich shawl I accidentally left on the Palisade when we debarked in July. At the time it seemed unimportant because it was so very warm by then."

"Why do you not borrow mine?" Sophy quizzed absently, her eyes on the printed page. "It is lying on my bed, my dear."

Seeing how engrossed Sophy was in her letter, as she was wont to do when her husband was the author, Anne smiled knowingly. "Thank you, Sophy. I will fetch it at once."

Anne left the room and made her way up the stairs. She had gotten to the point where she disliked stairs and had begun to take Martha up on her offers to fetch and carry for her. But she had taken a long nap that afternoon and did not mind doing so now.

Gliding down the hallway, Anne entered Sophy's chamber and looked round for the maroon shawl that Sophy favored. But then her eyes lit on a small package that lay on the bed. A small card atop of it gave evidence that it was for her.

"Sophy, you sly boots," Anne murmured fondly as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Always thinking about me. How very kind!"

Unwrapping the parcel from its delicate tissue, Anne's hazel eyes glowed with pleasure and disbelief. Laying within the airy folds was a shawl fashioned from the cashmere blanket she and Frederick had shared on the Palisade. It had warmed them on many a cold night. But how had Sophy known this?

Anne lifted out the dark green shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She could feel the soft, luxurious warmth enclosing her already and she closed her eyes as the wonderful feeling crept over her. As she did so, an envelope fell from the folds onto her lap. It lay against her now very large abdomen and Anne smiled at how her body had changed so.

Opening the envelope, her eyes widened with realization. It was not from Sophy but Frederick!

My darling baggage:

Would that I could bring this shawl into your hands myself, but such a delightful errand is outside of my province at the moment. So I have chosen Sophy to act as my Ares. Your clever little head must be filling fast with questions, so I will seek to answer them.

Sophy had written to me soon after I returned to London to ask me if I might pick up a heavier winter shawl for you as you had left yours on the Palisade. That set me to thinking that you deserved something a bit finer than something from Bond Street, an item that had been perused by so many. And as you are the blessed angel who knows and hides my worst faults, you are all too aware that I am not the properest person for shopping!

That was when I remembered you had so thoughtfully put our favorite blanket into my trunks before I left. It touched my heart so to know that you had remembered how many evenings you and I had shared beneath that blanket as our married life began. Knowing that I could not be there to warm you now, I had a clever, wizened little lady named Mrs. Bryant (who looks after George and me at the Hamilton Inn) to fashion it into a shawl for you.

My little one, I long to be with you and our baby as the moments slip past, bringing the day of his or her birth even closer. Pictures of you holding our child, rocking it to sleep in the moonlight, pull at my soul. I find myself gazing off into space as some important official prattles on about population statistics and convict ratios. George must elbow me often to keep me from truly making a spectacle of myself. You would find it very amusing, Anne, for I know you enjoy seeing me unexpectedly caught out.

So while I cannot be there with you physically, think of me as you wrap this shawl about your shoulders and be assured in a short time it will be replaced by your Captain's arms.

Your loving Captain,
Frederick

postscript: I hope to be with you by the week before Christmas, my love. I shall contrive to bring Katrina with me.

"Oh Frederick," she breathed, holding the letter against her shawl-covered chest as her eyes filled with grateful, happy tears. Amidst all his hectic meetings and detailed plans, Frederick had thought to do something so special, so very thoughtful, for her. It humbled her more than anything ever had before.

"You never stop surprising me, my Captain," she softly murmured aloud. "How did you know this is what I needed most?"

Continued in Section IV