Lady Roxbury’s eyes swept over the ribbons and awards adorning his chest. “No harm done. I understand you are stationed at Glenkinnon.”

“I am newly arrived, yes.” Harry kept his stories as close to the truth as possible.

“Do you ride?” Lord Roxbury asked.

“Very sporadically, I’m afraid.”

“A shame,” Roxbury said to his wife.

Lady Roxbury nodded in agreement. “Our daughter said you recently returned from Lebatu. Were you there for any of the heavy fighting?”

“Scotland is most definitely a pleasant change from my last post.” Harry evaded giving a direct answer to her pointed question. He snagged a drink off a passing waiter’s tray. The action allowed him a brief chance to glance about for Elise. Where was she?

Then he saw her.

His heart skipped a beat. Elise’s blue gown wasn’t the least bit fussy, but it hugged all the right places and flattered her beautiful form. He took a sip of champagne to keep from drooling and reeled in his emotions.

“He probably doesn’t want to discuss military maneuvers on the Med tonight, dear. Am I right, Captain Benson?” Lord Roxbury asked politely with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Lady Roxbury might have missed the admiring glance Harry had cast in Elise’s direction, but Roxbury obviously had not.

“Lord Roxbury has the right of it,” Harry agreed, fighting back a smile at the older man’s observation skills.

With beauty like Elise’s, it had often puzzled Harry why she hadn’t taken the matrimonial plunge, but then, some men were intimidated by talented, intelligent females. Personally, Harry found Elise a refreshing challenge—someone to keep him on his toes.

“Darling, McFarlane is signaling. I believe it’s time for supper,” Lady Roxbury said, touching her husband’s sleeve. “It’s good of you to come, Captain Benson. We’re honored to have a decorated hero in our midst.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Harry bowed, clenching his back molars together. Nigel had insisted he pin his medals on the scarlet coat of his No. 1 Dress uniform, which he had only used on active duty for ceremonial occasions. To Harry, the uniform stood for something, a privilege to serve. Wearing it when not on active duty was almost a sacrilege in his book.

He pivoted, his mind unfocused. A mass of flame-colored hair caught his attention and pulled him out of his quandary. Elise stood beside a lovely brunette who bore similar features. The two women were obviously sisters, though Elise’s vivid coloring drew Harry’s eye—and kept it.

A waiter passed. Harry tore his gaze away from Elise, set his empty glass on the tray, then started in Elise’s direction. Her sister murmured something, and Elise looked up.