She laughed. “Because she was talking the other day of how she hoped to attend university after the war is over. And thinking of her reminds me of what I just learned last night about her, though she never would have admitted her birthday on her own, I suspect. She isn’t one for a fuss. But I’d like to host a small dinner party for her. You wouldn’t mind, would you? Just her and her brother and his wife?”

“Of course I don’t mind. But if we could backtrack a bit, I—”

A knock sounded on the door. Not the usual quick rat-a-tat-tat, but a measured, slightly slower version. Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap.

“There she is.” Dot hopped to her feet again with enviable ease. “And I’m sorry. What were you saying about your university days?”

Maybe it would be easier to tell it to her back as she scurried away, toward the door. He glanced at her retreating form.

Nope.

Besides, he would only be interrupted again by her opening the door and greeting her friend. He’d just have to tell her and Miss De Wilde both.

Perhaps it would be better that way. Perhaps Dot wouldn’t overreact in the presence of company.

He didn’t bother answering her question directly, and she didn’t seem to notice, given that in the next moment she was unfastening the chain, turning the lock, and opening the door with an exclamation of greeting.

Drake couldn’t drag himself to his feet fast enough to stand like a gentleman when the ladies entered the room, but he managed to sit up a bit straighter, anyway. And he’d donned a real shirt and trousers for the occasion. Nothing constricting, no waistcoat or jacket, but he was at least out of his pajamas and dressing gown.

Not that Margot De Wilde did more than glance at him with a generic smile, the same one she’d have given anyone. A blow to his self-confidence, to be sure. He may not be the most handsome bloke in the world, and girls may not fall over themselves vying for his attention, but it would be nice if he weren’t entirely invisible to her.

“Sit, sit.” Dot waved her friend toward the chairs. “We’ve another half an hour before the food is ready. Would you like something to drink, Margot?”

“Not yet, thank you.” She shrugged out of her coat and passed it into Dot’s outstretched hand. Then she turned her dark eyes on him while Dot went to put her coat somewhere. “How goes your recuperation, Lieutenant?”

“Very well, thank you.” He took a sip of his tea and prayed silently for a way to broach this conversation with his sister.