“Violet,” Elizabeth said, fixing a stern eye on Violet’s pinched features. “Any interest I might have in Major Monroe is strictly business. He is in command of the men billeted in this house, and there are certain concerns that should be addressed. I merely thought it might be more pleasant to share a meal while discussing our business, rather than the stuffy atmosphere of the library or my office. It would be more conducive for an honest exchange of views, don’t you think?”

“I’ve seen the way you look when his name is mentioned,” Violet retorted, refusing to be intimidated. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel a spark of something when he’s around.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. Wild horses wouldn’t drag that admission from her, no matter how close to the mark it might have been. “Major Monroe is married,” she said primly.

“Go on!” Violet rushed over to the table and sat down. “When did he tell you that?”

Elizabeth stared hard at the bills in her hand. “I really don’t remember. It came up some time in one of our conversations.”

“Bet that was a disappointment.”

That was something else she wasn’t prepared to admit. Instead, Elizabeth held up a letter. “Look at this! It’s a letter from Uncle Roger.”

Violet’s expression changed to one of contempt. “What’s he want now?”

Elizabeth tore open the envelope, more relieved at the diversion than interest in the letter. She scanned the lines then refolded the flimsy paper. “He’s got a spot of leave coming up and wants to pay us a visit.”

“Probably on the earhole for money or something. We never see him unless he wants something. If I had my way I wouldn’t let him past the front door.”

“If you had your way,” Elizabeth murmured, “no one would get past the front door.”

Violet opened her mouth to answer then snapped it shut as the door to the kitchen flew open.