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a few minutes, she became aware that Stevens was observing her from the corner of his eye. “Yes?” It came out rather snappily.
    He shrugged. “Oh, nothing, miss. I was about to observe what a very soothing activity fishing was…” He darted her a wry glance. “Only mebbe I’ve changed my mind.”
    She had to laugh then. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to be rude, only I did so want to speak to Mr. Blacklock. I am furious with him, but I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you, Stevens.”
    “S’all right, miss. You didn’t say nothing to upset me.”
    They fished then for a while in silence. Faith glanced across at him. He really did seem to find fishing soothing. It was quite pleasant sitting here on a rock and looking out to sea, but it was also just a little bit…boring. Especially when she needed to throttle someone.
    After a while, Stevens said, “Don’t you mind Mr. Nick’s high-handedness, miss. He always has done what he thinks is right, no matter what anyone else says. Always, ever since he was a boy.”
    Faith sniffed and fished. High-handedness indeed! He could be high-handed with his own possessions.
    “I’ve known him all his life, see.”
    Faith waited for him to say more, but he seemed intent on his fishing. Curiosity got the better of her. “You’ve known Mr. Blacklock all his life?”
    “Ever since he was able to escape his nanny and head for the stables. Loved horses, he did, right from when he was a little lad. All animals, really, even the wild creatures—especially the wild creatures.” Stevens frowned over his cane and wound the line in. “Cunning beggars! They’ve nibbled me bait off again.” He pulled something out of a pail that sat beside him in the sand and threaded it on his hook. Faith averted her eyes, trying not to notice that whatever it was wriggled. When he’d tossed the line back in, he continued, “Master Nicholas was the same age as my boy, Algy.”
    “You have a son?”
    “Had. He got killed in the war.” He tugged at the line. “When Mr. Nicholas got sent off to war, my boy followed him. Ran off without so much as a by-your-leave and joined up wi’ Master Nick.” He shook his head in wry reminiscence, “He couldn’t let Mr. Nicholas go off by hisself, you see. The pair of ’em was inseparable—bin getting up to mischief together since they was old enough to run. Mr. Nicholas, he got Algy into his own regiment. Old Sir Henry had bought him a commission, you see.”
    “I’m sorry you lost your son, Stevens. I suppose they thought the army would be a big adventure—boys often do, I believe.”
    “Nope.” Stevens gave her a look. “Master Nicholas, he was sent, miss. Didn’t want to go. Didn’t have no choice about it. Old Sir Henry was furious with him—he’d got up to mischief again, y’see. Old man reckoned the army would learn him a lesson.”
    “What sort of mischief?”
    He shook his head. “Harmless stuff, boys’ stuff, but it drove the old man wild with rage. Wanted Mr. Nicholas to be more like his brother—in other words, more like Sir Henry.”
    Faith would have liked to ask about the brother, but Stevens was deep in reminiscences, and she didn’t like to interrupt.
    “Mr. Nicholas was desperate angry about bein’ forced to be a soldier. Never hurt a fly, he wouldn’t. Not then, at any rate. So young he was—and Algy, too. Just boys.” He shook his head. “They’d have both been killed in their first battle if it hadn’t been for Mac.”
    “Mac?”
    He cast her a look. “Don’t let Mac’s bitterness blind you. He’s a good man, missie. Ruined he was, by a heartless Spanish light-skirt.” He shook his head again. “That big Scottish lummox has a heart of marshmallow.”
    “Mac?” She couldn’t believe it.
    Stevens grinned. “Hard to believe, I know, but he risked his life, diving into the river—he couldn’t swim in those days—to rescue a misbegotten mongrel pup that had been tied to a brick and slung