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Her gray eyebrows raised, Mrs. Anderson turned to stare at Jenna Montague. “You are engaged to an officer in your late father’s regiment? Which one? And why were Colonel Anderson and I not informed of it?”

“Well, she ain’t exactly engaged yet,” Lieutenant “Heedless” Harry Hartwell replied. “But it seemed a great shame for one of her pluck and skill to leave the army, so we’ve all offered for her. I expect she’ll require a few days to make up her mind which one of us she’ll take.”

With a sharp glance at his subordinate, Brigade Major Garrett Fairchild began “Miss Montague hasn’t yet -“ at the same time Jenna exclaimed “I haven’t ye -“

“What a bunch of nonsense!” Mrs. Anderson cut them both off. “As if any girl with any claim to wit wouldn’t be breathless with anticipation to leave this heathen place and return to England! Gentlemen, I don’t mean to be unkind, but - with the exception of Lieutenant Lord Nelthorpe, of course - none of you have more to offer in marriage than a handsome face and a set of regimentals. Quite dashing, I’ll allow, but not nearly as good an offer as Miss Montague deserves.”

Mrs. Anderson patted Jenna’s hand. “I shall dispatch you to my sister in London, my dear. Persephone will know just how to turn you out to advantage, and, I have no doubt, help you make an excellent match. For an heiress of your great wealth, my dear, even a duke is possible!”

For once, Lord Anthony Nelthorpe’s perpetual sneer disappeared. “Miss Montague is an heiress?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“Bah, what does wealth matter?” “Heedless” Harry said.

“H-heiress?” Jenna echoed, as incredulous as Lord Anthony.

“Your father never told you?” Mrs. Anderson sighed. “How like an army man, thinking more of his regiment than his daughter’s future! Yes, my dear, you are heir to quite considerable wealth, as your papa informed me when I taxed him about your circumstances after your dear mama’s death at Corunna. I urged him then to send you back to England…but ’tis no matter now.”

“I had no idea,” Jenna murmured, still astounded.

Mrs. Anderson sniffed. “I’m sure you did not! One would never have guessed it, seeing how spartanly you live, but your papa returned from India with a tidy fortune, which as his only child and heir, now goes to you. Ah, how delightful you will find London, with all the finest young gentlemen vying for your notice! So let’s have no more talk of throwing yourself away on an army officer!”

Mrs. Anderson gestured to the back room. “You’d best begin packing up your papa’s things. Perhaps the major could sell off those you don’t wish to keep as mementos.” At Jenna’s stricken look, she colored, but continued, “Some might call me insensitive to press you to such a task so soon, but you’ve been with the army long enough to understand that life goes on. And so must we.”

Aye, life goes on, Jenna thought bitterly, the anguish of that blatant reminder of her father’s loss too heavy in her chest for her to summon speech.

“Up with you now, my dear. You’ll find keeping active makes it easier. I’d like to depart while the troopers are still sporting themselves in the city and so be well away before headquarters orders another march and decides it cannot spare us an escort.”

By the look of barely repressed agitation on his face, Jenna could tell that only respect for Colonel Anderson’s position was restraining Harry from countermanding the directions of his superior’s wife. As it happened, though, Jenna had no desire to discuss any further her departure - or her wedding - in front of the colonel’s wife.

Not until she sorted out her own feelings about the officers’ unexpected proposals.

For if Garrett Fairchild had meant his own offer of marriage seriously - and she knew the major well enough to believe he would never make such an offer carelessly - she wasn’t sure whether she could resist the very great temptation to accept it.

Even though marrying the man she loved with all her heart but who thought of her as a sister would surely doom them both to a lifetime of unhappiness.

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