stared, confused by the woman before him. Portland placed the spoon he held into the dish before him, dropping his head into his hands while Harris tried to calm his mother. Cassandra, with a patience that only a daughter can carry, spoke to her mother.

“This is Lieutenant Fotherby, Mother. See how young he is. He is younger than Philip, so he cannot be Father.”

“Nonsense, Cassandra. Do not seek to correct me. I can see in his eyes that it is your father.”

“Pardon,” Fotherby said softly. “But I believe you have mistaken me.”

She only laughed as though he had made the mistake, but throughout the entire meal she continued to talk to him about exploits she had shared with her late husband as though she expected him to know them. Fotherby poli...

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