"Thank you again for your kindness. I shall not forget. "She reached out and put her gloved hand on his arm. "I am glad you are safe."

She could not continue, but turned away and walked deliberately past her father.

"No need fer me to fret about you, zur." The guard dragged off his battered hat, his weathered face split into a grin. Something to tell the lads…

A smart carriage, almost delicate compared to the stage, had halted, and a woman was stepping down, assisted by her own straight-backed coachman. People were turning to watch as she, slim and elegant in a dark red cloak, hurried to greet the midshipman.

Napier felt the arms around his shoulder, a hand on his face, his mouth. The tears against his skin.

She was saying, "A tree across the road… Francis had to fetch help. I prayed you'd still be here! "She tossed her head like a girl, but the laugh he had always remembered would not come.

Napier could feel the warmth of her embrace, her pleasure and her sadness. He wanted to tell her, to explain, but his voice came out like a stranger's.

"Lady Roxby, it all happened so quickly!"

But her hand was touching his mouth again and she was shaking her head, her eyes never leaving his. "Aunt Nancy, my dear. Remember? "She kept her voice level as she called to the coachman, "A hand here, Francis. Easy, now."

But Francis needed no such caution. He had served in the cavalry, and had not forgotten what the exhaustion of war looked like. And he had already seen the dark stain of blood on the midshipman's white breeches.

She stood by the carriage while Napier climbed with effort to the step. She was aware of the faces at the inn windows and on the street, discussing and speculating, but they could have been completely alone. She had last seen him as a boy, proud but shy in his new uniform, before he had left to join his ship.

She had learned most of what had happened from the letter which had reached England in a fast courier brig from the Caribbean; the rest she could guess or imagine. She was a sea officer's daughter, and the sister of one of England's most famous sailors, and had soon learned that pain and glory usually walked hand in hand.