She gave him a smile that very nearly covered the panic as she wove her way through the crowded hall toward him. “It went well! I begin tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I knew you could do it.” He took her hand, squeezed it, and tucked it into the crook of his arm as they turned. “This will be good for you, Dot. I bet you’ll soon be writing to tell me about all the new friends you’ve made.”

“Oh . . .” Her fingers dug into his arm. “I’ll just pray for one friend, for now.”

Drake bit back a sigh. Her prayer was not because she hadn’t the faith that the Lord would send her more, but because she lacked the faith that she could cope with more. “I’m sure the Lord will provide.” He always did. First a friend in their neighbor, Ada, when they were small. And then even an honorable young man who wanted to protect and cherish her in adulthood, in Ada’s brother. Blasted war, taking that chance from her.

“And I should write to Ada when we get home. Tell her I found a position.” She angled a teasing smile up at him. “Have you any message you’d like to include for her, brother dear?”

“Certainly. Ask her if the chauffeur at Ralin Castle ever got to drive a Renault.”

“Drake.”

“What?” He grinned down at her. “No telling the next time I’ll make it to the Cotswolds, but if she’s to be there for the duration of the war, she could well run into the chauffeur.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is sane. Glad as I am that you and Ada have always had each other”—at least until Ada and her parents had fled London soon after Nelson was killed—“you know very well I can’t tolerate her for more than an hour at a clip.”

“Well, you could if you just tried.”

Exactly what he was looking for in a wife—someone he had to try to like. Rolling his eyes, Drake led his sister toward the lift. “Let’s not ruin a perfectly good day with talk of Ada. What would you like to do in my remaining hours of leave? Catch a show? A moving picture? Perhaps take a turn through the museum?”

“I think . . .” Dot pursed her lips as she considered, sending her eyes up to the ceiling. Drake braced himself, fully expecting her to say she’d prefer something at her flat: for him to read to her, or make a meal for themselves at home, or do a crossword puzzle. But instead she grinned. “A moving picture. I haven’t been to one for ages.”

Perhaps Drake’s smile was as much relief as actual pleasure, but if so, his sister didn’t point it out.