"It's such an odd letter," she said, pretending to read it again. "My first impulse was to tear it up, but I must confess—this part where he admits he's making a botch of it…"

"Perhaps he's realized he made a botch of it years ago," Hermey said fiercely. "Which he most certainly did."

"He does say it was not a happy marriage. Perhaps he was…" Callie tapped her fingers on the sheet. "Well—things can happen, I suppose. Gentlemen find themselves… embarrassed."

Hermey looked at her aslant, her neat eyebrows raised. Callie did not know if she understood.

"I think perhaps he was in love with this other lady," Callie said.

"Oh poo. Then why did he ask you to marry him?" Hermey asked naïvely.

"Papa arranged it. But—" She broke off, at a loss to explain to her sister that it was quite likely Major Sturgeon had not been faithful to Callie during their engagement. "I'm not the one to cause a gentleman to forget his prior feelings, I don't think."

Hermey rose abruptly and crossed the room. She sat down on the bench and gave Callie a hard hug. "This dreadful major doesn't seem to have forgot you, though. I wish you may make him fall wildly in love, and then give him the cut and let him pine away until he dies of consumption."

"While writing poems in a garret."

"A freezing garret. With rats."

Callie turned the letter and squinted at it. "I'm not certain Major Sturgeon could bring himself to write a poem."

"For you, he would do anything!" Hermey opened her arm in an eloquent wave.

"Hmmm," Callie said. "Perhaps I will subjugate him and marry him after all, and keep him enslaved to my smallest wish for years."

"Yes! Exactly like Sir Thomas," Hermey agreed.

"I daresay it would annoy Dolly to have him call on me."

Hermey's eyes widened. "Oh yes!" She caught Callie's arm. "Oh, you must. For that alone."

Callie looked down at the letter. She blinked. "Yes," she said resolutely. "Yes, I think I must."

The London physician did nothing to allay Trev's worst apprehensions. He had ordered Jock to bring back the finest professional man he could locate, and the valet had gone right to the top, it seemed. Dr. Turner came with excellent credentials, chief ly that he was an esteemed friend of Sir Henry Halford, president of the Royal College and physician in ordinary to the sovereign. According to Sir Henry's letter, Trev could repose his full confidence in Dr. Turner, to whom Halford preferred to delegate his regular practice while he was in attendance on the king.