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tilted back as she drank
in the splendors of the view. “You did not go to church often?”
    “Hardly at all,” she admitted with the frankness he was coming
to admire. “Crich is a four-mile journey there and four miles back. ’Twas too
far to travel with Mama. And before that, well, church in Matlock Bath was more
of a social affair for our family.”
    He nodded and opened the massive oaken door. Her experience
with faith was not much different from his. After all, his conversion happened
on the battlefield, not because of any experience he had growing up in his
family’s parish. “I come here for worship every Sunday. If you like, you may
join me. Reverend Stephens is a gifted speaker. I daresay there are few who can
phrase the Bible in such clear and understandable terms.”
    She smiled politely. “Thank you.”
    That brief response, and the brief, circumspect smile that came
with it, gave one the feeling of being rebuffed. Or at least brushed off. He set
his jaw. They were here on a mere business arrangement, nothing more.
    As they entered the narthex, the cacophony of male and female
voices, both young and old, bounced off the walls and the high-pitched ceiling.
He spied Reverend Stephens with the veterans, gathered near the altar, while the
women and children sat farther back in the pews. “Come, I’ll introduce you,” he
said, hurrying her up the aisle toward the altar.
    “Reverend,” he called as they drew near. “Gentlemen, I have a
new representative here with me.”
    Reverend Stephens motioned for silence and gave a friendly
smile to Sophie. “So I see,” he responded gently. “Welcome, my child.”
    Sophie curtsied. “Thank you, Reverend.”
    Charlie grasped her shoulders and turned her slightly so she
was facing the group of veterans. A larger group than usual today—nearly fifteen
men. The good weather must have made it possible for more to come.
    “Gentlemen, ladies, Reverend Stephens,” he called, making sure
his voice carried to the back of the church. “With me today is Miss Sophie
Handley, newly arrived in Bath. Miss Handley is the younger sister of Mrs.
Harriet Brookes, whose book about Waterloo is making a sensation across
England.”
    The crowd applauded politely, and several women leaned forward
as if to hear him better.
    “As you may know, Mrs. Brookes has donated the proceeds of the
sale of her book to our group.”
    Many people gasped, turning awe-stricken faces to his. Well,
this was the first time he’d made the announcement publicly. And it was a very
generous thing Harriet had done. The looks on their faces made him break into a
grin. How they would put that money to good use.
    “Miss Handley is working for Lord Bradbury in town, but has
agreed to be her sister’s representative here in Bath. Anything that we want to
do as a group, Miss Handley will work to make sure it can happen. Please think
of her as you do me—as a friend, a confidante and a colleague.” He turned his
grin to Sophie, who was looking up at him with wide blue eyes. “I trust her. And
I know that, together, our veterans’ group can make a real difference in
everyone’s lives.”
    The group erupted in applause, several of the men whistling and
stamping their feet. Sophie blushed prettily and bobbed a little curtsy before
the crowd. He nodded at her, as if to say, “Go on, say something,” but her rosy
color deepened and she shook her curls quickly.
    He shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want
to,” he replied in an undertone. “But I must get started working with the men.
Do you want to talk to the women and children?”
    “Yes, of course.” She moved to the back of the sanctuary, and
disappeared as the veterans began to swarm around Charlie, talking about
Harriet’s generous donation and how they should use the funds.
    He spoke with the men for a good hour without taking a break.
There was a private who had a wife and a small baby, but he had been blinded