The nurse shook her head. “Three more have come down with it—and not from the same train the original chaps had been on either. Worse still, Nurse Jameson has spoken to the hospital matrons of other facilities, and this doesn’t seem to be limited to Charing Cross. Others are reporting similar cases of fever and flu symptoms.” She leaned closer. “Other hospitals have had men die who weren’t even showing those symptoms a day beforehand. I’m worried, Lily.”

“Of course you are. We all are.” Lily slid a glance to Zivon.

He nodded, as did Camden. How could they not be concerned? There were always isolated examples of people dying of influenza, of course. But more often than not, that happened to the elderly or to small children. Not to men in the prime of life.

The major slipped an arm about his fiancée’s waist. “And you’ll be no good to any of them if you don’t get some sleep, darling. Come on. I’m taking you home.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me call Sarah or my mother. I’ll do it.”

Miss Denler breathed a laugh and reached out a hand to Lily. “Thank you for inviting us, Lily. Sorry we were late.”

“I’m just glad you could make it. Now go home and rest.”

Zivon bade them farewell too and watched them walk away, wishing he had the right to guide Lily through the door with a hand on her back as Camden did his Arabelle. But it took only a glance at the window to Captain Blackwell’s study, through which Zivon could make out her father’s scowling face, to know that would be a bad idea.

The man stood. No doubt he realized that was the last of the guests other than him and Clarke and was about to come out and thank them for coming, thereby saying without saying outright that it was time they took their leave.

Lily, hand on his arm, nudged him toward Clarke and Ivy. Zivon went along. “Thank you again for doing this for me, Lily. You have made bright a day I thought would be nothing but darkness.”

The way she looked up at him, darkness couldn’t long stand against the flame it lit in his spirit anyway. He’d cared for Alyona. She’d long been like family. He would have cherished her, come to love her as a man should his wife had they wed. He knew that.

But it wasn’t like this.

Ivy’s laughter, robust and free, drew both their gazes to where she and Clarke stood by the vegetable garden, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone else had gone. “I can’t believe you did that! To a commander!”

Clarke grinned too. “Well, it wasn’t as though he was a commander then. Field promotion, you know.”