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her nephews. “Stop now, all is well.”
    He fought her, and she pressed closer, holding him in her arms, whispering to him, trying to keep him still. Not knowing what else to do, she began to sing, a silly nursery song her governess had taught her and she’d forgotten until now.
    At last he stilled, and buried his face in her neck. His breath was warm against her skin. She could feel him trembling, and she stroked his hair and waited for him to sleep again. Was he blind in his nightmares too? Perhaps he was reliving the battle in his sleep, feeling the bullets piercing his flesh all over again. Or was his terror of more recent making?
    She did not know what Fairlie and Nicholas had spoken to him about. Nicholas had left looking grim and preoccupied. Fairlie had taken Eleanor aside, whispered to her, and Eleanor had looked dismayed. She had informed Delphine that someone else would be assigned to assist Major Lord Ives in the morning, and she was to avoid going into his room. The trouble with that was that Delphine was sleeping in the adjoining dressing room, and while she locked the door, she could still hear Stephen’s distress. She could not ignore that.
    â€œBut why can I not care for him?” she’d asked Eleanor. “Isn’t it better if he hears a friendly and familiar voice, knows we’re here with him?”
    â€œIt’s not proper. It’s bad enough you are here at all. If father knew, or worse, mother—­” She stopped a moment, her face reddening. “Stay away from him, is that clear?”
    â€œNot at all,” she’d protested. “I’ve been by his side for days. Why does it matter so much now?”
    Eleanor had looked at her fiercely. “These are Fairlie’s orders as much as mine. Major Ives is to leave soon. Fairlie wants him out of this house as soon as possible.”
    â€œOut? But surely he’s not fit to travel,” Delphine objected, curling her fingers against her chest, suddenly tight with shock.
    Eleanor’s face pinched. “I know you fancied him once, Dilly. You must understand that even knowing him socially would be quite impossible now, and father would never allow such a match, nor would Fairlie. It is unkind to let Lord Ives hope.”
    It wasn’t Stephen who hoped. She doubted he wanted anything but an end to his pain and the return of his sight. It seemed cruel to assume that now that he was blind, he was worthless as a man. Or was there more to it? Something she’d seen in Nicholas’s eyes, and now in Eleanor’s sharpness told her there was. There was no point in arguing now. Eleanor would not tell her a thing, and she could still insist that Delphine must go home at once. “I shall treat him no differently than any other man here. Will that do?”
    â€œYes,” Eleanor agreed tiredly.
    Yet now, in the dead of night, clad only in her nightclothes, she held Stephen Ives in her arms, rocked him, comforted him because there was no one else to do so. He lay with his head on her breast, his breath warm on her skin. She told herself it wasn’t a lover’s embrace. It was the way a mother would hold a child, or a sister might comfort a brother. It was simple human kindness. She shut her eyes and kept still, being careful not to hurt him. She let him draw on her strength, wishing she could take the pain, the blindness, and the nightmares from him.
    She waited until his breathing became deep and regular. She kissed his brow, and gently edged out from under him. He sighed but did not wake. He would not even remember she was here in the morning, just that he’d felt comfort.
    And no one should be denied comfort, no matter what he’d done.

 
    Chapter 9

    â€œD id you find Hallet?” Stephen asked eagerly when Nicholas arrived again a few days later.
    â€œNo. There’s no sign of him. He may have been sent home to England.” Stephen heard the edge of defeat in