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than clasp a trembling hand over her mouth as she waited for her queasiness to pass. At long last, her eyes fell to her brother’s cane and when finally she lifted her gaze to meet his again, she spoke haltingly in a voice fraught with concern. “And . . . there is . . . no lingering malady?”
    Colton’s own tone was muted as he lowered his head near his sister’s. “Only a slight hindrance that requires the aid of a cane in walking, but, with any luck, exercise, and enough time to perfect a proper healing, my dependence upon it will likely cease. With each passing day, my leg is growing stronger. I’m confident my limping gait will wane, precisely to what degree remains to be seen.”
    Squeezing her eyes shut against encroaching tears, Samantha leaned into her brother and felt his arm slip about her shoulders. Tearfully she mewled, “I can only thank a merciful God for your safe return, Colton.
    Our prayers have truly been answered.”
    His hand moved in a slow, circular motion between her shoulder blades. “I have every confidence that I’
    m here, hale and hearty, because you and our dear mother proved faithful in offering entreaties on my behalf,” he rasped near her ear. “I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for your petitions, for there were indeed many close calls in this latest campaign against Napoleon’s forces.”
    Adriana was reminded of her own fervent supplications whispered in the night-borne shadows of her bedchamber. She had lain awake many a night, unable to endure the thought of Colton lying dead, wounded, or perhaps even abandoned on a battlefield somewhere. He was the only male offspring of parents she had loved almost as much as her own. Once he had even been the hero of her girlish fantasies, more than enough reason for her to offer countless prayers for his safety.
    Samantha couldn’t ignore the inquiry burning within her heart. Leaning back against her brother’s
    supporting arm, she searched his features with an intensity that encompassed the full sphere of her concerns. “Does your presence here at Randwulf Manor mean that you intend to assume the responsibilities of the marquessate?”
    Colton met her dewy-eyed gaze unwaveringly. “As the one upon whom the title rightly falls, dear sister, I’
    d be remiss in my duties to the family if I allowed it to be bestowed upon our cousin, Latham.”
    Struggling against a confused blend of thankful tears and jubilant laughter, Samantha relented to both, vividly evidencing her overwhelming relief and joy. Latham’s latest visit had set her at odds with their cousin. He had arrived on the pretext of attending her father’s funeral, but had entered the manor with the air of a pompous lordling, single-mindedly intent on inspecting his newly acquired domain and the furnishings therein housed. Indeed, he had barely paid proper respect to the dead before insisting that Harrison take him on a tour of the mansion and then had grown annoyed when the steward, out of his fierce loyalty to the family, had asked his mistress if she’d permit the man to look about. Considering the galling height of Latham’s arrogance, Samantha had almost expected him to demand an immediate accounting of the family treasures. In spite of her own enforced restraint throughout most of his visit, near its conclusion she had answered him rather caustically when he had asked where her mother would live in the coming months. Quite aloofly she had informed him that Lady Philana would remain at Randwulf Manor as mother of the heir.
    “Latham will be disappointed,” she murmured with a radiant smile. Although her elation was entirely due to Colton’s willingness to accept the marquessate, which had been a heartfelt desire of their father, she was grateful that she wouldn’t have to choke on the bitter bile of resentment while making an apology to their cousin. “I’m sure Latham thought you were dead when you failed to return from Waterloo. If not for assurances