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father at war, the child had been in Williamsburg since her mother died—till he’d returned her to Tall Acre.
    Lily Cate’s eyes clouded. “I pray the general grows his fingers again.”
    “Oh?”
    “I pray I can go back to Williamsburg and get my toys.”
    “Williamsburg is a lovely place. I used to live there too, in a townhouse at the end of England Street.”
    “Do you miss it?”
    “Sometimes.” Sophie suppressed the wistful ache. “But I’m here now, and I’ve met you.”
    Joining hands, they bowed their heads and Sophie spoke the words her mother had taught her long ago. “We thank Thee, Lord, for happy hearts, for rain and sunny weather. We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food, and that we are together. Amen.”
    Leaning closer, Lily Cate whispered, “You forgot to pray for the general’s fingers.”
    Sophie closed her eyes again. “We pray too for healing for General Ogilvy’s injuries, seen and unseen. And we thank Thee that he was very brave in battle and has come home to Tall Acre at last.”
    Looking satisfied, Lily Cate watched as Sophie pretended to pour tea into the doll’s miniature cup. “We’ll serve our honored guest first.”
    Lily Cate peered closer. “But there’s nothing coming out.”
    “I think she’d rather eat rose petals.”
    Lily Cate giggled, the sound like a chime in the quiet room. Whoever had raised Seamus Ogilvy’s daughter had taught her fine manners. She sipped her tea daintily, scattered no crumbs, and declined a second biscuit. “I’ll send one home to your father,” Sophie told her.
    “He’ll be glad as we have no cook.” She made a face. “Well, there’s Florie, but she burns things. He’s seeking another.”
    Sophie sipped her tea. “There’s much afoot at Tall Acre then.”
    Lily Cate nodded. “The general has a hand in everything. He even helped with my hair.” She touched her lopsided bow. “But when he brushes it, he tears out the tangles and everything.”
    The idea of him fussing with so simple a task made her smile. “Perhaps you should ask him to be gentler.”
    “I do, but he still isn’t.”
    “Perhaps if you called him Papa and not the general he would be,” Sophie ventured. What did it matter to her what she called him? But somehow it did.
    Looking pensive, Lily Cate asked to be excused then slipped out of her seat, drawn to the toys. Dropping down beside her, Sophie showed her the painted Pandora dolls hidden inside the dollhouse’s parlor, and the novelty of the tiny dog with its wagging tail. They began rearranging furniture and hosting a ball to which even the dog was invited, both of them unaware of Glynnis coming in to clear the table and the grumble of distant thunder.
    Suddenly Lily Cate sat back on her heels. “I hope the gener—Papa—forgets to come get me.”
    Sophie read the worry in her honest eyes. They were the same remarkable shade of her father’s and bore the same unsettling disquiet.
    “If I can’t go back to Williamsburg, Miss Sophie, I want to stay with you.”
    “Your papa would miss you if you did.”
    “He could come visit us sometimes . . . for tea.”
    Reaching out, Sophie coaxed back a wisp of midnight hair and straightened Lily Cate’s awkward bow. “Even if I wanted to keep you, I couldn’t.”
    “Do you already have a little girl?”
    “Not yet, but I hope to someday.” ’Twas the wrong thing to say. The light in Lily Cate’s eyes was snuffed like candle flame. Sophie checked the impulse to plant a kiss on her furrowed brow. “For now ’tis just the two of us, and I’m very thankful.”
    Looking only slightly relieved, Lily Cate pressed a hand over her mouth and yawned. Was she in need of a nap? Glynnis napped. Henry napped. Sophie, never. Following the girl’s cue, she opened her arms in invitation, feeling sleepy herself. Without a word, Lily Cate climbed onto her lap.
    Warmed by the unfamiliar weight of her, Sophie shut her own eyes, as hungry for a caring touch as Lily