“Sophia,” Mrs. Ward said in breathless tone, “let the poor man alone. He has just risen from the sickbed and will not benefit from all of your recollections.”

Chase was certain that since he had absolutely no recollections of Miss Sophia whatsoever, Mrs. Ward was quite correct in her belief that he wouldn’t benefit from any memories the girl planned on dredging from her imagination. Still, he managed a pleasant smile. “I’m certain Miss Sophia can remind me of our past times together over dinner.”

He bowed to the youngest Ward girl. “Miss Ophelia, how nice to meet you again. I fear I don’t remember you well after—” He touched his head ruefully.

She giggled, her brown eyes magnified by her spectacles. “Thank you, Captain Frakenham. I am pleased to meet you again, as well.”

Mrs. Ward smiled her approval. “That only leaves Harriet, whom I’m sure you remember from this afternoon.”

“Indeed.” Chase bowed to Harriet, who stood to one side, her expression so far from the unalloyed mirth he’d witnessed on her face when he entered the room that he wondered if he’d imagined it.

She bowed in response—prim, proper, and uninterested. “Good evening, Captain Frakenham.”

A chilled frost was flame-hot compared to the icy air that hung about Miss Harriet Ward. Chase was glad he’d had the brandy to warm himself before attempting to dine with this particular little ice maiden. From what he’d heard, frostbite was a horrible experience and not one he’d really desired to experience.

Still, fortified by the brandy, he managed a smile. “I am sorry to keep you waiting. I must still be on London hours.”

“London?” Harriet’s smooth voice interjected. “I didn’t know Captain Frakenham had ever been to London. Have you? If so, pray tell us all what you remember.”

Everyone stared at him, silence abounding.

Chase almost winced at his mistake. Damn it! He would have to guard his tongue with Miss Harriet about. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been to London. Perhaps I have, since I seem to know that expression.” He met Harriet’s gaze steadily. “Or isn’t it a common expression?”

Mrs. Ward waved a hand. “Baron Whitfield says it all the time. Shall we retire to the dining hall? Stephen, you may escort me. Derrick, you may take Sophia and Ophelia. And Captain…why don’t you escort Harriet?”

Chase was certain Miss Harriet would hate to be so importuned, so he immediately went to her side and proffered his arm.

She looked down at it as if it were a snake, and only at the last possible moment did she lay her hand on his arm. Even then, she maintained an unusual amount of space between them.

Chase led her around a small chair on the way to the door, lengthening their journey by four or five steps. The maneuver allowed Stephen and Derrick to escort their charges first, while Chase and Harriet followed. As soon as the others were out of sight, Chase drew to a halt.