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ought not to leave without at least attempting to make a better impression on Belle. He just wished he knew how to go about it.
    With twelve adults and Liberty, the table was crowded; as Falcon ran a silent tally, he hoped he was the only one who had noticed they had assembled an unlucky number. "I miss Beau," he offered as soon as Byron had completed the blessing.
    "Yes, we all do," Arielle replied, "but I imagine he is having far too exciting a time to miss us."
    Johanna had dark hair and eyes like her brothers, but her fair mother's sweet prettiness. "Let's not talk about Beau when Falcon's home," she begged. "You must have had some adventures since the last time you were here, Falcon. Won't you please tell us about them?"
    "My tales would only spoil the meal," he responded, but the whole table urged him to continue and finally he gave a report. "Since General Clinton captured Charleston in May, the Patriots in South Carolina have suffered terribly. Their homes have been torched, their livestock slaughtered, their crops ruined. Great numbers of people have been herded into prison camps, but the meaner the British are, the more determined we've become to defeat them."
    In the early days of the war, Christian had fought with the Virginia militia, but now that he had three children, he had chosen to remain at home. As their plates were being served, he hoped aloud that Charleston would soon be liberated. "The British must be stopped before they reach Virginia," he vowed.
    "Yes, we all hope for that," Byron agreed. "Now please, we've read enough accounts of the war in the Virginia Gazette to understand the situation without relying on Falcon's

    description. Let's enjoy this delicious meal without any further mention of the war."
    "You can't mean that," Belle argued. "What other subject even compares with it? Everyone is well. The tobacco crop should be excellent. Now, why don't we turn our thoughts to helping the good people of South Carolina? Are there enough volunteers to care for the wounded, Falcon?"
    Falcon had a mouthful of the savory layered chicken and pastry dish that was one of his favorites among his aunt's recipes and he had to raise his hand to plead for a moment to swallow before answering. "I'm out in the countryside, Belle. I don't really know, but I imagine there is always a need for help in tending the wounded."
    Rather than pursue her interest in volunteering with the whole family present, Belle simply nodded, but she found the idea increasingly appealing. In Acadia, her mother had been known as a sage-femme. When she had come to Virginia, she had continued to practice her healing arts and had passed on a treasury of herbal cures to her daughters. There was obviously a need for trained healers in South Carolina, and Belle was eager to go. She glanced toward her mother.
    "Don't even think about it," Arielle whispered.
    Belle smiled, but she had no intention of abandoning the idea. Her mother may have forced Falcon to propose, but she could not keep her at home when it was far too painful to remain. She had missed Falcon terribly while he had been away, but her loneliness did not even begin to compare with the wretched disappointment she felt today. He was so close, but now she doubted she could trust anything he said, as sincere, and his nearness was agony. She toyed with her chicken, but didn't raise a single morsel to her mouth.
    After the first few awkward bites, Falcon had found the chicken so delicious he asked for seconds, but he wasn't so absorbed in the food that he missed his aunt's warning. That Belle might consider traveling to South Carolina to

    tend wounded soldiers was not an idea he would encourage, either. He glanced down the table at Dominique and found her laughing at an amusing observation of King George III her father had made. She was a consummate flirt, but he had never even been tempted by her seductive ways.
    Seduction wasn't the word to describe what had happened between him and