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Trust Lieutenant “Heedless Harry,” ever the most forthright member of their little group, to plunge in and confront directly the matter of which the late Colonel Montague’s “family” must all be thinking - the future of his orphaned daughter.

Jenna Montague sighed. “Yes, Harry, the army has been my life as much as it was Papa’s. But I cannot see how I can avoid leaving. I don’t know Colonel and Mrs. Anderson well enough to ask to stay with them, and I can’t travel with the regiment alone.”

“Thought all females liked hobnobbing to talk of bonnets and such,” Lieutenant Alastair Percy said. “M’sisters surely do. And only think, ma’am - England means hot food on a regular basis, a bed you needn’t inspect for vermin, theaters, shops -” “Stuff,” Harry dismissed Alastair’s observation with a wave of his hand. “What cares Jenna for such paltry things, compared to the adventure of living with the army?”

Quelled by his idol, Alastair subsided, but Lieutenant Lord Anthony Nelthorpe raised one sardonic eyebrow. “Not everyone shares your delight for playing in the mud, Harry. Being a civilized sort, Miss Montague will doubtless be thrilled to trade the primitive filth of Portugal for the splendor of a London town house. Especially once her chaperone helps her bleach that unladylike sunburn from her skin, procures her a wardrobe of stylish new gowns, and fills her parlor with beaux to entice. None of whom, one must note, are apt to be killed before she can thoroughly torment them.”

Garrett stiffened, resenting on Jenna’s behalf the peer’s sardonic tone, while Jenna gave Nelthorpe a wary glance. But before the major could utter a sharp rejoinder, Jenna said wryly, “England will more likely mean becoming dutiful companion to Papa’s elderly aunt Cecilia in some dreary spa or other.”

“Do you not even know with whom you would reside?” Garrett asked, struck once more by the painful uncertainty into which her father’s death had cast her.

Toying with the spoon in her untasted stew, she looked away from the sympathy he knew his eyes must hold.

“Except for a month in London reprovisioning after Papa was transferred from India to the Peninsula, I’ve not resided in England since I was two. Mama has no near relations, and Aunt Cecilia is the only one of Papa’s family who still writes us. Judging by what she writes about, I doubt we shall have much in common. My skill at beheading chickens, plugging a target at twenty paces, and coaxing pack animals to ford flooding rivers isn’t likely to be much in demand in London, Bath, or Harrogate.”

“Seems devilish unsporting that you be reduced to matrimonial games -” Harry leveled a scornful glance at Lord Nelthorpe “- or playing companion.” He lapsed into silence, only to look up a moment later, his eyes bright. “By Jove, Jenna, I have it! You shall stay with us!”

“Do exhibit some wit, Harry,” Lord Anthony said with a sigh. “As Miss Montague has already informed you, a virtuous maiden does not live unchaperoned in the midst of an army - if she wishes to retain her reputation as a virtuous maiden.”

“Dammit, I know that!” Harry said with an impatient wave of the hand. “But you needn’t go to England and waste yourself on some overstuffed popinjay who could never appreciate you. Stay here and marry one of us!”

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