She had commenced blinking. Tremont produced his handkerchief and led her to the sofa. “If you sold yourself, you had no other options. I have learned not to judge women for wanting to survive. When a soldier fights to survive, he’s a hero, and he’s paid for his efforts. Fed, clothed, housed, and paid. We drink to his health immediately after we toast the health of the sovereign. Soldiers kill people to survive, and we sing jolly songs about them.”

He fell silent and folded Matilda’s hand between his. He had killed his commanding officer to survive, and Matilda hadn’t judged him for it.

“Soldiers,” she said, “can cause trouble even when they aren’t fighting.”

“They can be the very devil.” Rioting for days, plundering civilian homes, and worse. “Did you fall in love with a devil?”

Matilda took his handkerchief and clutched it in her fist. “Not a devil, a high-spirited young man. He was the second son of the wealthiest squire in the parish. His mother would not allow him to buy his colors, so he joined the local militia. Papa was pleased when young Joseph Yoe began walking me home from services, and I was… I was besotted. Vicars’ daughters are easily besotted.”

The tray arrived. Tremont poured out and passed Matilda a cup.

“You know how I like my tea,” she said, taking a sip. “If Harry were alive today, if Joseph were alive, neither one of them could fix me a cup of tea as I like it.”

What was so complicated about a dash of cream and a dollop of honey? “What happened to young Joseph?” What had happened to young Matilda was of far more interest, and clearly the two tales were intertwined.

“Joseph and I became close. We had an understanding, and I was in transports. I was to marry into a good family, get away from the vicarage, and finally make my father proud of me. Joseph could make me laugh—I was starved for laughter—and when he touched me, I was starved for that too. He was affectionate and passionate, and I was an idiot.”

“You were young and in love. Early in life, emotions can play havoc with our common sense.” Later in life, too, sometimes.

“I was desperate to be free of my father, desperate to be away from his constant judgment. I wanted to laugh and have a second glass of wine and wear pretty clothes. I had less common sense than a pullet in spring.”

And now, Matilda was all common sense, all the time—almost all the time. What could effect such a radical change?

Tremont considered that question while Matilda sipped her tea, considered the hell that had been Matilda’s marriage and the other hell that had been her life at the vicarage. The squire’s dashing son had showered Matilda with attention, and… the pieces of the puzzle formed a whole.