“That’s awful, to have to fight the war on two fronts like that. Major MacKay said Napoleon was defeated in part because fighting in both Spain and to the east spread Napoleon’s forces too thin.”

“Those of us under Dunacre did fight a war on two fronts,” Tremont said, holding the door to the back hall for Matilda. “You are right about that, but the enemy was defeated, and now we face different challenges.”

“What happened to him?” Matilda asked, pausing on the threshold to study Tremont’s face. He exuded an air of amiable rectitude generally, but she had heard him in the library, doing more to organize the search in five minutes than the whole household had done in an hour of shouting and stumbling about.

Tremont could think quickly and strategically, despite his claim to be a plodder.

He’d divined how to find Tommie and thus where to find Tommie, suggesting a canniness that was kept well hidden, perhaps even from the man himself.

“Dunacre fell at Waterloo,” Tremont said. “Friendly fire, snipers—the stories vary. He was given a hero’s burial.”

Matilda thought back to Vicar Delancey’s eulogy for Harry. “More than he deserved. I’m glad he’s dead.”

The look Tremont gave her was hard to parse. Wistful, perhaps? “You are very fierce, Mrs. Merridew.”

She patted his chest. “So are you. That shall be our secret, though I suspect the men are on to you.”

She made her way to the library, where some of the searching party had reassembled. Tommie sat on Amos Tucker’s lap, holding forth about how dark the hay mow was and the great clatter the ladder had made when it plummeted to the ground.

“Let him have his moment,” Tremont said quietly, coming up on Matilda’s side. “He was brave. He kept his head. He meant no harm. You can scold him later for being a dunderhead too.”

And there it was again, proof that Tremont was not the dullard he portrayed himself to be. As Matilda watched a lot of former soldiers make much of a small boy, she wanted to cry. She instead squeezed Tremont’s hand, whispered a suggestion to him, and slipped from the room.

She heard Tremont announce that supper would be a roast of beef and that Tommie would choose a dessert from the selections available at the bakery. The safe return of any prodigal deserved a feast, news which was greeted with a great cheer from the men.

By the time Matilda reached the bottom of the steps, she was once again crying into his lordship’s plain linen handkerchief. Some prodigals who found their way home were given a feast in welcome.

Others were not.

Chapter Four

How does a woman learn to cry without making a sound?