Hermey snatched it and read, bouncing on her heels. Her mouth began to open wider and wider. She looked up at Callie as she finished. "And who is this gentleman? Is he a scoundrel in truth? Callie! Oh my, what have you been up to while no one was attending?"

"I haven't been up to anything, I assure you. I was once engaged to marry Major Sturgeon. You don't recognize his name?"

"Oh," Hermey said. "Ohhh." She sank slowly down onto the window seat and read the letter again. Then she looked up. "You've seen him?"

Callie nodded. "He came into the Antlers yesterday morning, when I was discussing the cook with Mr. Rankin."

"What did he say?"

"Very little. He requested to call on me, and I refused, and he looked as if he'd like to run me through. And then he left. I can't imagine what he supposes to gain with this." She sat down on the dressing stool and pulled her shawl closer around her in the bedroom's chill. "Oh, I hope he will not persecute me all week."

"Persecute you! But it's so romantic!"

"Not in the least." Callie lifted her chin. "His wife has died, bless the poor woman, and now he wishes to take another look at my fortune. No doubt he needs a mother for his orphaned children too."

Hermey looked down, still holding the letter. "No, I suppose… you would not consider it."

"Certainly not. The man cried off, Hermey. Don't you even remember how angry Papa was? No reason given, but then Major Sturgeon up and married that Miss Ladd within the two-month. It was ghastly."

"Yes, but—it was all so long ago, wasn't it? He's had a change of heart."

"I doubt that very much. I suppose you were a bit young to know the particulars. You must have been no more than—oh, fourteen perhaps, at best."

Hermey bit her lip. "I do remember that it made you cry."

"Merely on Papa's behalf," Callie said staunchly.

"Men are horrid." Hermey stood up and f lung the letter. It f luttered into the air and gently down onto the carpet.

"Well, I've not had much luck with them, but I'm sure that you'll find it a very different matter." Callie leaned down and retrieved the letter. "For one thing, you would never wear coquelicot with pink."

Hermey gave her a distracted smile and sat down again on the window seat. She toyed with the new ring on her hand, tracing her fingertip round and round the opal cabochon. Callie watched her sister's profile against the gray light. Quite suddenly, she remembered Hermey's fear that Sir Thomas Vickery might not wish to have a spinster sister intrude on his marriage. "Oh—" she said and stopped herself.

Hermey looked up.

Callie avoided her eyes and spread the paper on her lap. She felt a tightness in her throat, some thing threatening to fill her eyes. She cleared it with a cough.