“Our youngest,” Katherine said quietly, touching the child’s curly mop of hair with her free hand. “Your daughter’s goddaughter.”

Allison had known who the little girl was, but her eyes misted for just a moment anyway. She stooped gracefully, making herself the same height as the child, cleared her throat, and held out her own hand.

“My name is Allison,” she said. “What’s your name?”

The girl looked gravely at the offered hand for several seconds, then back at Allison’s face.

“Honor,” she said after a moment. Her Grayson accent softened the name, but she spoke clearly and distinctly. “Honor Mayhew.”

“Honor,” Allison repeated, keeping the pain from her own voice, and smiled. “That’s a very good name for someone, don’t you think?” Honor nodded wordlessly. Then she reached out and laid her hand in the one Allison still held extended. She looked up at Katherine and Elaine as if for approval, and Katherine smiled at her. She smiled back, then looked up at Allison.

“I’m four,” she announced.

“Four years old?” Allison asked.

“Uh-huh. And number four, too,” Honor told her with a grin.

“I see.” Allison nodded in grave approval and stood back fully erect, still holding Honor’s hand. Each of the adult Mayhews had corralled one of the older girls, and Allison dimpled as the major sighed in profound relief when MacGuiness, with the able assistance of Miranda and Farragut, began chivvying people up the steps.

“—so we were delighted by the invitation,” Benjamin said, leaning back in the comfortable armchair in the Harrington House library while he nursed a glass of Alfred Harrington’s prized Delacourt. Allison had decided to use the library instead of one of the grander, more formal sitting rooms the architects had provided. Aside from the huge Harrington seal inlaid into the polished hardwood floor, the library managed not to shout that it was part of a consciously designed “great house,” and the titles on its shelves and the relatively simple but comfortable furnishings and efficient data retrieval systems made her think of Honor. Given her determination to keep the night informal, Clinkscales had withdrawn with a gracious smile to join his wives while the Harringtons entertained their guests. Now she and Alfred and the adult Mayhews sat in a comfortably arranged conversational group near the main data terminal, and Benjamin waved his wineglass gently.

“I won’t say we never get out—there’s always some damned state occasion or another—but just to visit someone?” He shook his head.

“Actually,” Katherine said with a wicked smile, “we’re all rather hoping some of the other Keys decide to follow your example, Allison. Tester knows half the wives out there are hovering on the brink of death from pure envy over your ’social coup’ right now!” Allison’s eyebrows rose, and Katherine chuckled warmly. “Of course they are! You’re the first hostess outside the immediate Mayhew Clan or one of its core septs who’s had the sheer nerve to simply invite the Protector and his family over for a friendly family dinner in over two hundred T-years!”