The clear sky promised a fine evening. Harry climbed out, with Sammy scampering after him and slamming the door. His eyes swept the lighted marquee as a valet came forward to take his keys.

“C’mon, Dad.” Sammy tugged on his arm.

“Hang on, son.” Harry checked his tie in the side mirror, then grabbed their overnight bag.

With a firm grip on Sammy’s shoulder, Harry ascended the exterior stairs.

“Hiya, McFarlane,” Sammy greeted Roxbury’s stiff butler.

“Good evening.”

McFarlane took Harry’s invitation and bag. “This way, Captain Benson, Master Samuel.”

A footman retrieved their bag from McFarlane, and another liveried family retainer removed his and Sammy’s overcoats and presented Harry with a coat-check ticket.

“Maeve will take Master Sammy to the nursery,” McFarlane informed Harry while leveling a steely-eyed stare on Sammy.

Maeve, a young maid with wide-set eyes and a starched uniform, held out her hand to Sammy. “I have a number of games I think you’ll enjoy.”

Harry bent low and whispered for Sammy’s ears only. “Stick with Maeve, and I’ll stop by the nursery later to see how you’re doing. Maybe I’ll bring Lady Elise. Would you like that?”

Sammy’s head bobbed, the cowlick trying to free itself from the heavy gel Harry had used to suppress it. His son took Maeve’s hand and accompanied her upstairs without a backward glance.

“Right this way, Captain Benson.” McFarlane indicated with a flourish of his white-gloved hand.

Harry proceeded past the ancient weaponry displays to the corridor beyond. The walls were painted Roxbury blue. According to Elise, Pantone had created the color for her family, and Roxbury had exclusive rights to the hue. Harry didn’t much care who had created it; the paint brightened the atmosphere considerably after the dark paneling of the entrance hall.

McFarlane ushered him into a salon of mammoth proportions. Kilted men and bejeweled ladies dressed in shimmery gowns gathered in knots throughout the vast space.

The stiffness eased inside Harry as he took in the animated faces around him.

“Captain Henry Benson, Household Cavalry and Royal Armoured Corps,” McFarlane announced.

The Marquess and his wife disengaged from the knot of people surrounding them and approached Harry. Elise’s father, a dignified man with fading red hair, was almost as tall as Harry and had pale-blue eyes that tended to probe.

“Thank you for your service, Captain Benson,” Lady Roxbury said warmly, her soft eyes filled with genuine kindness. A lovely woman, Harry determined, with a sweetness to her expression he hadn’t expected—not after his last encounter with Elise’s parents.

“My pleasure,” Harry said.

“I remember you now,” Lady Roxbury exclaimed. “You rode up to the castle on that noisy motorbike at our anniversary party when you and Elise were at university.”

Harry bowed. So much for Lord and Lady Roxbury not recognizing him. “Guilty as charged. I’m afraid it was a rather juvenile show of bad manners.”