One or two of the guests asked meaningful questions: How long before the troops of occupation would be withdrawn from France? Would Napoleon stay put this time? He had no sure answers, but it made for a break from the misplaced hero worship.

For the most part he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it tremendously. It had been years since society had found favor with him.

Through the whole he never spoke to his hostess. He would look up and find her watching him with a pleased smile, the one that lit her eyes. Lindsay returned the attention with a slight bow, but every time he made to move toward her there was another man or woman anxious to speak with him. He might not have been able to speak to her, but he would occasionally hear her laughter, the very sound making this party memorable.

When the clock struck ten, the guests began to drift away. Even as he made to join them and finally speak to his hostess, a footman came to him and asked if he would wait in the library.

The footman showed him to a room at the front of the house. As he heard the sounds of farewell, he took stock of his surroundings.

Lady Grace Anderson’s house was all that was fashionable. And proper. With the occasional touch that kept it from being dull. He examined the fireplace, admiring the fairies that were carved into the molding that held the mantel, the same fairies that decorated the fire screen, though these were painted gold and green.

„Good evening, Major.“

Lindsay turned to see a woman of a certain age, not his hostess.

„Good evening, madam. David Lindsay at your service.“

„Yes, my son knows you. Captain George Cardovan. Do you remember him?“

Cardovan, yes. A fine officer, badly wounded in an accident when the ship landed at Ostend.

„Of course I do. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cardovan. Is your son with you?“

„He is. I have finally convinced him to come to town, though he is embarrassed that he cannot dance.“

And, Lindsay was sure, embarrassed that he had missed Waterloo. No matter that his quick thinking had saved lives in Ostend. To be wounded weeks before the final campaign was worse than death in Belgium. „I do understand. May I call on him?“

„He would welcome it, I am sure, Major. In fact, my niece would like to invite you to join us for dinner. George will be there too.“

„Why, thank you, Mrs. Cardovan.“

„Good. Grace is rather given to impulse. I am glad that you are not repelled by it.“

„A soldier learns to handle the unexpected.“

„A useful trait in this household, I assure you.“

Lindsay thought of the bright blue door, the fairies around the mantel, and wondered if they would be having cakes and cream for the first course at dinner.

Mrs. Cardovan walked away from him and stood with her back to the fire screen. „Have you known my niece long?“

Was she assessing his threat to her son’s courtship or being protective of her niece? „I’ve known her long enough to appreciate her laughter and effervescent charm, ma’am.“

She reached out and rapped his wrist with her fan. „Then not very long at all.“

What did she mean by that?

„Grace is a different woman since the viscount died and has earned every bit of pleasure life offers.“

„You have earned some fun as well, Major. Anyone at Waterloo deserves as much.“

It was not Mrs. Cardovan who spoke, and he turned to find Grace Anderson standing in the doorway. Before he could think of a way to answer she went on, „Good evening, Major. I am so sorry that I did not have a chance to speak with you during the party. I had hoped to have time to speak to everyone, but I fear my guest list was too ambitious. Will you stay for dinner?“

„Yes, thank you, my lady,“ he said, giving her a slight bow.

„Wonderful.“ She offered him her arm. „Petkin tells me the soup is ready to be served.“

Mrs. Cardovan hurried to the door. „I will go tell George.“ Even as she spoke, the older woman nodded to him and left the room.

„Aunt Louise means well, but I wish she was not so inclined to believe in fairy tales. She has me cast as some butterfly just burst from a cocoon and still trying my wings.“ She did not wait for a response but continued, „Tell me, have you ever had a soup made from apricots?“

Dinner was… well, an adventure. Not the least of which was the apricot soup. Captain Cardovan’s welcome was embarrassingly enthusiastic and the two spent the first half of the meal talking of friends. By the time the more conventional fish course was served, Lindsay was feeling guilty for talking of nothing but the military.

From then on the four of them covered a dozen subjects, largely centered on the Season. Plays and balls were on everyone’s list, as well as excitement at the opening of the Waterloo Bridge sometime in June. „It will make for a break from the usual, will it not?“ Lady Anderson said.

If by „the usual“ she meant the constant parade of young girls making their bows and the speculation over what matches would be made, then she was right. He might not be part of that world any longer, but he could remember it well.

By the end of the meal it was clear to him that George Cardovan was no suitor, but was loved like a brother. Mrs.

Cardovan excused herself and, after a pointed look from his mother, George joined her.

„I wish someone could convince my aunt that George must be allowed to live his own life.“ Lady Anderson looked at him and shook her head. „He can hardly be expected to enjoy the Season if she is constantly worrying over him.“

He made some sort of neutral response, not at all inclined to take sides in a family squabble. She did not seem to expect an answer, but invited him back into the library, where a decanter of port awaited them.

She poured a small glass for each of them. This was another nod to the unconventional. No tea in the small salon for this hostess. No aunt to play chaperone.

She handed him a glass and men moved away, leaving the scent of her perfume as she moved about the room, like the newly hatched butterfly she had alluded to. One not quite ready to light in any one spot. She looked over her shoulder. „Did you enjoy the party?“

„Yes, thank you. It was an intriguing mix of people.“

„Yes, I suppose it was, but all dear friends of mine.“

„A pleasure to be included in so select a company.“ Exactly how did he fit in this group?

She took a sip of her port as she swept around him again. Her orange spice scent was as intoxicating as the port he held. Before Lindsay could turn to face her, she was in front of him. „I see that your uniform looks as well as it did before Fetters tried to win his absurd bet racing down Bond Street.“

„Yes, my lady. Jesseck learned magic as my batman during the war years.“

„In truth, Major, it hardly matters what your coat looks like. All eyes are drawn to your medal.“

Lindsay looked away from her. „Too much has been made of it.“ This was not quite what he meant, but he was not even going to try to explain.

„I can imagine that all the fuss does embarrass you.“ She set her glass on the mantel. „When so many died. But you must wear it in honor of them, if acknowledgment of your own valor makes you uncomfortable.“

He did that sometimes when he first put it on or took it off. Thought of Winslow, Packard or any of a hundred others and prayed for their immortal souls.

She walked over and touched it. Not him. She touched the medal and looked up at him. „Or wear it in honor of all the things men and women have done that deserve medals and are never recognized.“

„Like childbirth,“ he said, nodding, thinking of Billy and the mother who died to give him life.

She dropped her hand and looked at him with a start, her smile gone, her cheeks flushed as though he had just struck her, not with his words but with his hand. She turned from him.