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blessed."
    36 Mary Balogh She did not quite speak the truth about Louisa's marriage to the earl. She had not been happy at the time. She had been deeply shocked when she had realized very gradually what was happening between her companion and the Earl of Hartington. Louisa was a quiet, rather plain woman, six years Rebecca's senior, a gentleman's daughter fallen on hard times. And yet suddenly she had been scheming to become a countess and mistress of Cray bourne—or so it had seemed at first.
    And yet she should not have judged as she had done, Rebecca realized now. She should not have assumed that the whole business was sordid, that Louisa was a scheming adventuress. The marriage appeared to be progressing well. There seemed to be real affection between Louisa and the earl. And it was true that Louisa had never tried to be anything but a warm friend to Rebecca.
    There had been some awkwardness, of course, at the changing of roles. Rebecca had been mistress of the house until the wedding. Now she was a homeless widow living with relatives—and not even quite that. Though she had never been made to feel an outsider. She had to admit that. It was all in her imagination.
    And of course her loneliness had been accentuated by the loss of her companion and of her position in the house all at the same time—and less than a year after her loss of Julian.
    "You should put off your mourning soon," the countess said gently. "It has been well over a year, Rebecca. You must start going about again. There are many wonderful gentlemen left in the world, many of them eligible. And you are so lovely. I have always envied your beauty.''
    "Perhaps soon," Rebecca said. "For putting off the mourning anyway. I could never marry again."
    The countess's smile faded suddenly. "Oh, dear," she said, "I am feeling so nervous, Rebecca. Aren't you?"
    Rebecca raised her eyebrows.
    "But of course you are not," the countess said, laughing. "Why should you? You have done nothing to incur his wrath. I have. Do you think he will resent me? Do you think he will believe I am trying to supplant him in William's affections? Do you think he will believe I was merely a fortune hunter?"
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    "David?" Rebecca said.
    "I am his stepmother," the countess said, grimacing. "And only two years older than he. And he will know that I was your employee and that most reprehensible of all creatures, an impoverished gentlewoman. Do you think he will come today, Rebecca? He said in his letter that he would be leaving London within the week."

    "Perhaps today," Rebecca said, "or tomorrow. One never quite knows with David." Perhaps he needed a week or so of wild living in London, the war over, his commission sold.
    "Thank God he lived through the war," the countess said. "I don't know if William would have been able to take the shock had he been killed."
    "Yes," Rebecca said. "Thank God."
    But the countess bit her lip in dismay. "Oh, Rebecca," she said, "I am so sorry. How tactless of me." She held a hand over her mouth and was silent for a while. "Will his coming home be welcome to you or not? Will it help to see him and talk to him about your husband?
    Or will it hurt to remember that they left for the war together?"
    But Rebecca was not given the chance to answer. Both ladies jumped to their feet suddenly and exchanged glances.
    "Horses?" the countess said. "Is it Vinney back from the station?
    The train must have come in."
    They went to stand side by side at the window, watching to see if the carriage would veer off in the direction of the stables as it had done for the previous four afternoons or if it would proceed up to the house. It passed the turning to the stables.

    "I must go down to William," the countess said breathlessly when the carriage slowed on the terrace below them and they could see trunks strapped to the back of it. "I would prefer to be with him rather than have to make a grand entrance later. I have never felt so nervous in my life. Come with me,