She snapped her fingers, and the polebearers dutifully sank to their knees.

“You!” she barked, and four different potential yous stood to attention all at once. “Yes, you! The one with the leek!”

Lieutenant Fluellen snapped into parade-ground pose.

“Well?” the Duchess demanded, batting arthritic eyelashes. “Don’t you know to help a lady into her litter?”

“It would be my honor?” ventured Lieutenant Fluellen.

The Duchess favored him with a smile as her polebearers struggled to their feet. “Correct answer. You may keep your head. For now.”

And with that, she swept off, her bearers’ feet beating a staccato tattoo against the marble floor.

“Good Lord,” breathed Lieutenant Fluellen. It wasn’t a prayer.

“Grandmama seems to have taken a fancy to you.”

“A fancy?” echoed Lieutenant Fluellen incredulously. “I’d hate to see her take against someone.”

“Oh, no,” Charlotte hastened to reassure him. “Grandmama generally just ignores people she doesn’t like. She doesn’t believe in wasting her energy on them.” She caught Robert’s eyes on her again, too shrewd for comfort, and hastened to change the subject. “Do you have any baggage?”

“Our bags are in Dovedale village. We thought it better not to presume upon our welcome.”

There it was again, the past, jabbing at them. Charlotte lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry if Grandmama was . . . unkind, all those years ago. She — ”

“She had every right to be,” her cousin interrupted flatly. “She was remarkably well behaved under the circumstances.”

Lieutenant Fluellen looked from one to the other with undisguised curiosity. “I feel as though I’m missing something.”