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grateful to him.
             
    A IDAN DID NOT CONSIDER HIMSELF AN ELOQUENT man. Certainly he had never before delivered a eulogy. He had attended so many burial services for his men and fellow officers that it was depressing to think of, but the regimental chaplains had always said all that needed to be said.
    “Captain Percival Morris once endangered his life and suffered severe wounds in order to save
my
life,” he began when it came time for the eulogy, facing the impressively large congregation gathered in the pretty, typically English village church.
    Miss Morris, dressed all in gray, sat in the front pew, her black-clad and -veiled aunt beside her. The young blonde-haired woman who had been teaching the children on the lawn at Ringwood was there too, as was the housekeeper, who would have made an excellent sergeant if she had been of the other gender, Aidan had thought when he saw her march down the aisle behind her mistress. Most of the congregation was dressed respectfully in black. Perhaps some of them wondered why Miss Morris of all people was not.
    “I was with Captain Morris when he died,” he concluded after delivering his planned speech for a few minutes. “His last thoughts were of his sister. He asked me to bring her the news of his passing myself. And he asked me to beg her not to wear mourning for him. It is in honor of that plea that she wears gray today. We must all feel honored that we knew so courageous a man, one who gave of himself unstintingly in the service of his fellow countrymen and of the country itself. We must show our respect for him by directing it toward the sister whom he loved to the end. Ma'am?”
    Aidan made her his stiffest, most formal military bow before returning to his seat. She sat straight-backed and dry-eyed and as pale as a ghost, he noticed. Mrs. Pritchard and several other members of the congregation were sniffling into their handkerchiefs.
    He did not pay much attention to the rest of the service. The church bell tolled mournfully as the service ended.
    He shook hands with the Reverend Puddle and congratulated him on a tasteful and dignified memorial service. He was wondering if this would be an appropriate time to have a word with Miss Morris or if he should more decently wait yet another day, but she took the decision from him by approaching him herself. She was holding out a gloved hand to him.
    “Thank you, Colonel,” she said. “I will always treasure the memory of all you said about Percy, most of which I did not know before. And I will always remember your kindness in staying another day for my sake.”
    “It was my pleasure, ma'am,” he said, taking her slim, warm hand in his.
    “How is your batman today?” she surprised him by asking.
    “Much better, I thank you, ma'am,” he said.
    “I am pleased to hear it.” She nodded. “A number of my friends and neighbors are coming back to the house for tea. Will you come too, please?”
    It was everything he could have hoped for. The chances were that there would be little opportunity for a private word with her, but perhaps he could create the opportunity. He still did not know what he would say to her, though, what he would ask, how impertinently he would probe.
    Before he could answer, someone else stepped forward, bowing and smiling and clad from head to toe in unrelieved black. Even the handkerchief dangling from one of the man's black-gloved hands was black.
    “A speech of affecting sentiment indeed, my lord,” he said to an astonished Aidan. “I could scarcely hold back my tears. My mama positively could not. What a comfort it must have been to poor Percival to have an officer of such illustrious lineage with him at his death—your father was the late Duke of Bewcastle, I understand, and your brother is the present holder of the title. I do thank you from the bottom of my heart, my lord, for condescending to honor us with your presence this afternoon.”
    “Sir?” Aidan said with distant