Nobody's Saint (39 page)

Well, that was George. As the oldest, he had always looked after Andrew. Later, he had done the same for Henry, before their father died and Lettie moved to London with her son.

And George’s innocent question,
How are you?
, had become such a difficult one. “Fine” was a bald-faced lie and a gross injustice to the men he had lost, but anything else was inappropriate on his brother’s wedding day.

“Fine. Fine. Even better to come home to this. Congratulations again.”

George rested his fingers lightly on Miranda’s hand. She slid it out from under them to pick up her fork. “Look, George, another chair and plate.”

As the servants settled George with his food, and Andrew explained that he was home to review and brief a new squadron that would ship out soon, Miranda stared at her plate and pushed her food around with her fork.