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“I am very happy to make both your acquaintances,” Dinah said.
Mr. Wilson openly scoffed and took another long swig of his drink.
Mr. Thrup eyed her and then said loudly, “This reminds me of a time”—everyone in the entire room groaned, though Dinah couldn’t say why—“when I was in France.” As he spoke, his eyes wandered to some spot on the distant wall, best Dinah could figure, and his tone turned nearly sing-song. “War raged all around. Smoke filled the air. The cries of men and horses, too.”
“Uncle,” the man nearest the children warned, “I am sure...this lady”—he seemed to struggle to call Dinah anything more than that even as he motioned toward her with a hand—“has no more desire to hear of such things than my wife does.”
Mr. Thrup held up a hand. “I beg your pardon, David. And yours as well, Dinah.”
She liked that he’d taken to her name. Of a truth, the smile he was giving her now made her think that perhaps in him, she might find a friend.
“Now.” His gaze returned to the distant spot on the far side of the room, and Dinah heard more than one groan from the room. “As I was saying. The night dragged on. I fought off multiple attacks—the details ofwhich I shall not go into at this time.” He shot the father, David, a sideways scowl. “We shall just say that I found myself without a gun, without a knife or weapon of any kind, still pushing farther into the city. Far outstriding the other soldiers, I made my way nearer to where the enemy’s commanding officer was holed up. I knew if I could see to it he was”—Mr. Thrup coughed slightly—“unableto continue giving orders, the enemy’s army would fall into disarray and our men could claim victory. So, quiet as could be, I snuck into the building.”
Mr. Thrup’s gaze once more focused on Dinah, and from her, it flitted to the others in the room. He leaned forward in his seat, his hands moving as he spoke, as though he were half-telling, half-reenacting the scene. “From shadow to shadow I slipped. I searched every room, but it wasn’t until I made my way up to the third floor that I found the man I wanted to see. He was being guarded by two men, each easily twice my size. But I lured them out by making a noise in the hallway and then hiding when they came to investigate.”
“Don’t skiphowyou hid,” one of the two young men said from near the window.
“Stop encouraging him,” David said, even as his boys sat with rapt attention, hanging on Mr. Thrup’s every word.
Mr. Thrup smiled, a most delighted turn of his lips. “I pressed my hands and feet against either wall of the hallway and shimmied my way up. The two soldiers passed directly beneath me. Never once thought to look up.”
“Blasted idiots, the French,” Mr. Wilson said more to his glass of brandy than to any of them. “The whole lot of them. Vile idiots.” The statement was said with so much vehemence that, though spoken softly, it stilled the room. Dinah shifted about as she stood before him.
“As I was saying.” Mr. Thrup seemed determined to see his story through to the end. “I made it into the room with the commanding officer and after...uh,dispatchinghim, the two guards showed up, blocking the one and only doorway out of the room. I was trapped, without weapons and without help. Other than the door, there was only a single window. Without time to think, I ran for it. I took the impact of the glass with my shoulder. So long as I live, I’ll never forget the sound of it shattering all around me or the feel of sailing through the air with so many shards. As luck would have it, a wagon full of hay was passing directly below me just as I fell.”
“Of course it was,” Henry grumbled softly beside her, so low, in fact, she doubted anyone but herself had heard.
Who could blame him for the sentiment? Mr. Thrup’s story was growing more outlandish by the minute.
“I landed directly in the center of the hay, slid off the wagon, and darted into a nearby alley between two closely spaced buildings.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Henry said quickly, probably hoping to interject himself before the man started up another tale, “for that fascinating story. Now, if you will excuse us, I must continue the introductions.” He turned her away almost before Dinah could say how pleased she was to meet them.
Mr. Thrup took hold of her hand before she left. “Find me sometime when these bores aren’t about, and I’ll tell you the story of how I met my wife, the most beautiful Spanish senorita to ever walk this wide earth.”
Mr. Thrup gave her another nod as Dinah walked away while Mr. Wilson continued to all but ignore her.
Henry next brought them to stand before the father with the young boys, whom he introduced as his brother, David. She’d seen differences between Henry and his brother from across the room. But now that she stood directly before him, the differences were so great she rather wondered that the two men were related at all. Where Henry was dark of hair, this man had light brown hair which curled tightly around his face. Where Henry’s eyes were dark, almost calculating and certainly guarded, this man’s eyes were open and a light green. Where Henry hardly ever smiled, this man seemed quite happy to meet her.
After the appropriate curtsy and bow, Henry continued to introduce the children, David Jr., Little Eddie, and Baby John, the last of whom currently sat on his father’s lap.
“You will have to excuse my wife, Emily,” David said. “I’m afraid she sat rather too long in the sun today and is currently in her room with a ghastly headache.”
That was unfortunate. Dinah had rather been looking forward to making the woman’s acquaintance. “Do let her know that I was sorry not to have met her tonight and that I hope she recovers soon.”
David tipped his head in a show of understanding.
After leaving his brother and his three nephews, Henry escorted Dinah toward the window and the two cousins there.
“Let me guess,” Dinah said as they approached. “You two must be Miles and Oliver.” Best she could guess, the two were fifteen or sixteen in age. Their complexions were darker than anyone else’s here, but when they smiled, the expression looked exactly like Mr. Thrup’s.
“Henry spoke to you of us then, did he?” the taller of the two asked.
The shorter one, who was also a bit broader in the shoulders, folded his arms and lifted his chin in as cocky a grin as Dinah had ever seen. “The real question is, which of us is Miles and which of us is Oliver?”
Henry glared down at the young men. “Don’t be uncivil—”
“It’s all right.” Dinah cut him off with a hand on his arm. “I’m rather good at this sort of game. But,” she said, addressing the twins, “if I am to play, you must grant me three questions.” More still, joining in such an antic may help her find her footing among Henry’s family.
