“Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling and getting to her feet. “But we are merely going to the Upper Assembly Rooms for tea, Sydnam. Whatever will the other people there think of us? We look far too grand for afternoon.”

Of course, she had always dreamed of taking tea and even dancing at the Upper Rooms and could remember how envious she had been more than two years ago when Frances had been invited to an assembly there.

“Well,” he said, “they will probably take one look at me and scream and run long before they can notice how grand we look.”

“Oh, Sydnam!” she exclaimed, but he was grinning at her in his lopsided way, and she ended up laughing with him.

“There is just this afternoon to live through,” she said as they were leaving the room together, “and a brief visit to the school tomorrow if you do not mind-I did send off a note to Claudia this morning to tell her we were here-and then we may go home. You will be so glad.”

“And you?” he said, offering his arm.

“Oh, yes,” she said, taking his arm and squeezing it. “I can hardly wait.”

But first there was to be tea in the Upper Rooms, and Anne looked forward to it. She and Sydnam traveled in Lady Potford’s carriage while Joshua and Lady Hallmere came behind and the children came behind them in a carriage with the nurse.

“You look very lovely, my dear,” Lady Potford said to Anne as they descended to the small courtyard outside the Upper Rooms.

“You also look half frightened to death. Let me set your mind at rest. I have reserved the whole of the tearoom for our use and so you will not be confronted by curious strangers. I have reserved the ballroom too. I thought a little music might be pleasant while we eat, and the extra space will give the children somewhere to run about without disturbing us.”

What? Anne exchanged a startled look with Sydnam. They were to have the whole of the tearoom to themselves, just the five of them plus the three children and the nurse? And the ballroom too? And there was to be music?

“I perceive, ma’am,” Sydnam said, “that you have arranged a small reception for us after all-small in number but large in space. We are delighted, are we not, Anne?”

“And overwhelmed.” Anne laughed and looked at Joshua, who had just handed Lady Hallmere down from their carriage. “Did you know about this, Joshua?”

“About what?” He raised his eyebrows, all innocence.

“About this reception for five adults and three children and the whole of the tearoom and ballroom in which to celebrate,” she said.

“Oh, that?” he said. “Yes. My grandmother is something of an eccentric. Had you not realized?”

They entered the building and made their way down a long, wide hallway. It was indeed devoid of people and noise. But Sydnam had been quite right-this was delightful.

Joshua paused when they arrived outside the door that must lead into the tearoom. A smartly clad servant stood waiting to open it.

“Grandmama? Freyja?” Joshua said, offering an arm to each of them. “We will lead the way in. Sydnam, you may bring Anne in after us.”

Anne turned her head to exchange a smile of amusement with Sydnam. She could hear the children coming along the hallway behind them.

The door opened.

For the first bewildered moment Anne felt embarrassed for Lady Potford. Obviously something must have gone terribly wrong with her plans-a mistaken day, perhaps. The tearoom, large and high-ceilinged and lovely, was actually filled with people. And they were all getting to their feet and looking toward the door and-

And then she and Sydnam were being rained upon by-by rose petals of all things in November.

And then there was noise to replace the unnatural quiet that had preceded it-voices and laughter and the scraping of chairs on the polished wood floor.

And finally, only moments after the doors had opened, she realized that wherever she looked the faces of the people were familiar.

“What the devil?” Sydnam said, clamping her hand harder to his side. And then he began to laugh.

“Sitting ducks,” Lord Alleyne Bedwyn said from close beside him. “You will be sorry you wore black, Syd.”

“But the petals look good in Anne’s hair,” the Earl of Rosthorn said.

“Oh,” Anne said. “Oh.”

She had spotted her mother and father across the room, her father looking austere and pleased with himself, her mother beaming but holding a handkerchief close to her face too. Sarah and Susan were on one side of them, Matthew and Henry on the other.

And then she saw Frances and the Earl of Edgecombe, and then Miss Thompson-and beside her the Duchess of Bewcastle and Lady Alleyne, and then Sydnam’s parents with Kit and Lauren, and then Susanna and Claudia and Lord Aidan Bedwyn with the Duke of Bewcastle.

But it was all a flashing impression. There was too much to see and too much to comprehend all at once. There were numerous other people present.

The Duchess of Bewcastle clapped her hands, and a silence of sorts descended on the gathering. Anne and Sydnam were still standing just inside the doorway in a pool of deep red rose petals.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Butler,” she said, bright and animated and smiling warmly, “you may have thought yourselves very clever indeed when you married in great secrecy a few weeks ago. But your relatives and friends have caught up with you after all. Welcome to your wedding breakfast.”

Looking back afterward on what turned out to be one of the happiest days of her life, Anne found it hard to remember the exact sequence of events after that first moment. She certainly had no recollection of eating anything, though she supposed she must have done so since she certainly was not hungry for the rest of the day.

But she did remember the noise and the laughter and the wonderful, heady sensation of being the focus of loving attention with Sydnam. She remembered being hugged and kissed and exclaimed over again and again. She even had a few clear memories.

She remembered Joshua bringing forward a pretty, guilelessly smiling young lady, whose free hand was flapping with excitement at her side and realizing that she was Prue Moore-now Prue Turner. She remembered Prue hugging her as if to break every bone in her body.

“Miss Jewell, Miss Jewell,” she cried in her sweet, childish voice, “I love you. I do love you. And now you are Mrs. Butler. I like Mr. Butler even if he does have to wear a black patch on his eye. And I am David’s aunt. Joshua says so and Constance says so, and I am glad about it. Are you?”

And then she turned to hug Sydnam with just as much enthusiasm.

Anne remembered being hugged by Constance too-the former Lady Constance Moore-and realizing that they must have come all the way from Cornwall just for this occasion.

She remembered Frances shedding tears over her.

She remembered Lauren’s happy smile and the young man she introduced-Viscount Whitleaf, her cousin, a young man who had her lovely violet eyes. He had come to Alvesley to visit the week after Anne and Sydnam left.

She remembered what Claudia said to her when they hugged.

“Anne,” she said severely, “I hope you realize just how much I love you. I have actually consented for your sake to be in the same room with that woman and that man. I feel as sorry for the Duchess of Bewcastle as I feel for the Marquess of Hallmere. She is remarkably sweet-but one wonders for how long under his influence.”

Anne remembered that Claudia and Miss Thompson sat together talking through much of the afternoon.

She remembered her father laughing and telling her what a splendid joke it had been to keep secret the fact that he had received a letter from Lady Potford on the same morning that Anne’s had arrived.

She remembered her mother’s happy tears-and Sarah’s.