"How is your cousin Martin faring these days?" Sarah inquired.
"Not well," she admitted with a sigh. "He's still in a lot of pain, and so grim. Two of the Cavendish brothers may have been punished for their part in the highway robberies which took place around here, but the memory of being so close to death, and the loss of his wife in so horrible a manner, has really altered him. But then Jonathan too is so altered. I can remember him being so jolly and happy until--"
"The war," Sarah interjected smoothly.
"Oh, yes, quite," Josephine said, blinking.
"And your cousin Samuel? Is he going overseas at last?"
She nodded. "Please God he'll be kept safe. But yes, he has his orders. At least we will be spared that where Martin is concerned. The two brothers had hoped to go over together, but now Martin plans to resign his commission, since he is still not fit for duty."
Sarah shook her head. "And Edmund Cavendish? What is he doing now? I know Martin always blamed him, and said he was the most evil of all of the men involved in that crime ring."
Josephine sighed. "Still raking from what we hear. His poor brother Gareth was the only decent one amongst the Cavendishes, yet has struggled to make a place for himself in the world. He's shipping out for the Continent this week, apparently."
Sarah reached the top of the stairs and halted. She looked stricken. "He's so young."
"Yes, only twenty-one, just qualified as a solicitor," Henry said. "But apparently we need reserve troops, and he was keen to go."
"Do give him my best if you see him."
"And it looks like we can have another adoptive brother to write to," Pamela said kindly.
Sarah patted her on the shoulder. "That's very sweet. I don't know him very well. He's so quiet and bookish, for all he's said to be tainted with the Cavendish blood."
"Quiet and bookish? Not really my type at all, then," Pamela said with a wry grin.
Sarah recognized her attempt to cheer the others. "Well, you've made wonderful inroads with a second scarf. If Gareth is going over, perhaps we can give it to him and entrust him with some of our presents for Michael?"
"Jolly good idea. We shall go call upon him on our way to your parents," Henry proposed.
"Certainly," Sarah agreed. "If you don't mind stopping at the stores, we shall gather the things together for Michael and have Gareth and Samuel take them over to France."
"I'll just come get you settled, " Josephine said, taking several steps toward the west wing.
"No need to come with us. We know the way," Sarah told her. "Go get your, er, what was it, beauty sleep?"
Josephine grinned. "In that case, good night."
Henry bowed over their hands, put his arm around his wife, and disappeared into their wing of the house.
"Have you got everything you need, Pamela?" Sarah asked when they reached the blond woman's door.
"I do indeed."
Except a good affectionate husband, she added to herself silently as she thought of the way both pairs of Stones had looked before they had headed off to bed together.
Pamela had a most shocking image of a man and woman entwined. Only the man's hair was sandy, not blond, and...
"Yes, they are most excellent hosts. Thank you so much for bringing me."
"The visit isn't over yet. I warn you, the Jeromes can be quite overwhelmingly jolly."
"It will make a change from my family, unremittingly stodgy."
Sarah's dark brows lofted skyward. "Pamela!"
She sighed. "Oh, I know, it was unkind of me. Step-Mama is a good woman but silly, and far too prone to stand upon ceremony. The only guest for whom I have ever seen her unbend is the Earl of Ferncliffe, and he is so unrelievedly dull."
"He certainly is. Well, let's not spoil our evening in talking of him. Sweet dreams, Pamela."
To her surprise, Sarah kissed her on the cheek before disappearing into her own room.
Pamela went into her chamber and touched her forehead pensively where Jonathan had kissed her. Then she shook her head and began to disrobe. Once again the image of a man's hands lightly brushing her body as he helped removed each garment filled her senses.
But it was absurd. Jonathan was a vicar. Poor, obscure, even if well educated. It was simply unthinkable. So then why did she keep thinking about it.
She yanked her night rail over her head pettishly, flung her hairpins on the dresser, and yanked the brush through her thick honey-blond tresses.
It wasn't possible. There were hundreds of other men eminently more suitable. She just had to stop thinking about Jonathan. It was sheer perversity of spirit. She only wanted him because she knew she couldn't have him, that was it. He had his vocation. She would be no better than the half dozen or so women in the parish who flirted with him, trying to tempt him away from his principles.