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and thoughts as well. He truly believed that his peers would follow his lead and condemn her, and that the lower orders would ridicule her every move. This was but another skirmish in their lifelong war, his latest attempt to shame her into adhering to his standards.
    Lady Thorne did not see it in that light, of course. When Amanda admitted she was leaving London, the dowager was delighted.
    “I always thought he regretted the rift between you. This is the first step in making amends.”
    “Fustian!” Amanda exploded. “He has never rued an action in his life. He is again trying to make my life miserable.”
    “It is true that he has never openly admitted a mistake,” agreed Lady Thorne. “Even as a child he was adamant. But that never prevented him from correcting his behavior.”
    “Enough, Grandmama,” protested Amanda. “I have agreed to his conditions, but that is the end of it.”
    “It is right that you return to your home,” she stated firmly.
    “Not home, Grandmama,” she countered. “I would starve first. I will live in Middleford, where I will continue teaching.”
    Lady Thorne frowned, but did not offer new arguments. “There is a cottage on the edge of town that was recently vacated. It is not large, but you seem not to care about that.”
    Her grandmother had been right, Amanda decided as she toured the house that afternoon. Too large to deserve the designation of cottage, it nonetheless suited her. The parlor was roomy enough to house a pianoforte – something Lady Thorne had already insisted on providing. A small stable would permit her to keep a horse and gig, allowing her to accept students from farms as well as town. The garden included a selection of common herbs that she could use for making healing draughts. The adjacent forest and water meadow contained others. Yet the house was small enough that it could be run by only a couple of servants.
    She had returned to London the next day to close up the house and ship her belongings north, arriving back in Middleford only two days before. Now that she was settled into her new home, she had accepted her grandmother’s invitation for tea.
    “You pour,” requested Lady Thorne once they had exchanged greetings. “Are you established at last?”
    “Reasonably. I could have been back a week ago, but I wanted to stay in town until after Jessie’s wedding.”
    “She shared rooms with you?” asked Lady Thorne.
    “Yes. Her husband also died at Waterloo.”
    Her voice precluded further conversation on the subject. She did not wish to discuss her marriage. She missed Jack. She missed so many old friends. Talking about any aspect of the last nine years would reduce her to tears, something she could not do again in her grandmother’s presence.
    “Is the house party still in progress at the Court?” she asked instead.
    “No..” Unexpectedly, the dowager chuckled. “It was a dismal failure.”
    “There was no betrothal?”
    “The suitor excused himself from attending. Thorne was livid..” Her voice held an odd inflection.
    “What happened?”
    “The gentleman sent word that he was suffering from an unspecified injury and must return home. Personally, I suspect that he was not ready to commit himself. He has a reputation for avoiding society. That is one of the reasons Thorne chose him – proper disdain for frivolity.”
    Amanda shuddered. It sounded like Emily was having as little voice in choosing her husband as she’d had. “And he must also have the requisite title and wealth. Who is this paragon?”
    “The Duke of Norwood.”
    Surprise flooded Amanda’s face as she recalled Thorne’s fury in the library and the letter he had slammed onto his desk. He must have received it along with the note from his mother. No wonder he had been unable to control his face. Two such massive shocks in succession were too much.
    “Do you know him?” Lady Thorne asked, raising a quizzical brow.
    “I met him once,” Amanda admitted. “You