He wanted to be in a foul mood. His venture to amorously sally forth so that he might attain the beautiful Bess had been thwarted, yet he could find no fault nor grudge with her father for putting a halt on any potential mischief. The image of her was burned into his brain. Since leaving the Americas, the innkeepers daughter was the most vivacious, spirited, ALIVE person he had encountered; the swells and curves of her body and the rosiness of her cheeks were enticing physical extensions of her nature and had captured his attentions. Wandering back towards his hall, he turned his mind from what he had not attained and to how to attain it. Plans began to form in his mind as he ambled along the lane. An officer for most of his adult life, Robert envisioned it as a military campaign, weighing his resources out and judging the strategies most likely to succeed in bringing him closer to his goal. No one simple thrust was going to work, that was for sure. Certainly not with the bulk of her father defending her encampment. If young Hammish came into his service and proved a loyal man, that would be an ally he might readily call upon! Higgins, of course, was his man. The old sergeant was trustworthy in being untrustworthy, knowing well when to bring either quality to bear so as to best benefit himself. This worked well as their interests tended to coincide. After all, hadn't Robert spoken up on Higgins' behalf some handful of times when an irate camp follower or angry tavern wench stormed the fortifications looking for the father of their bastards? Officers and their sergeants could never be friends, of course. That would be as absurd as a gentleman and his butler becoming stout comrades! But there was a loyalty built of shared experiences and mutual respect that served in friendship's stead. Higgins could help him find a way to win his way into Bess's bedchamber, he was positive.

So lost was the Captain in his considerations that he nearly missed the sound of hooves beating their way along the road towards him. Nearly. The jingle of harnesses and pacing of the mounts brought back recent memories of service, for only men trained to ride and fight together upon horseback might ride in such a way. There followed a trooping march of boots. He nearly grinned as he spied red coated militia men approach towards him, their officers' faces high and proud. The British militia was often regarded as something of a joke compared to the regular army, their men rarely seeing combat if at all, as their primary goal was to simply look good with spit and polish and drill. Robert had a slightly different opinion, having commanded a militia unit in the Americas. He knew that any man could be proven or broken upon the field. All that was needed was the chance. And there was something different about this troop. The men seemed harder, their officers exuding the quiet confidence of experience instead of the bravo and swagger of gentlemen playing at soldier. His smile was quite genuine as the major at the head of the column slowed to greet him. With color flying, the regiment marched on past.

"Good day to you, sir!" The commanding officer was an older man, well into his fifties with greying mutton chops and balding head. "Strange to see a gentleman walking unattended this time of evening. Where might you be headed?"

"Home, Major!" Robert warmed to the Major instantly. "I am Robert Vaughn, late a captain of His Majesty's army. American Dragoons. I was just out for a stroll."

"Major Christian Makepeace of the Hillshire First of Foot. Funny name for a soldier, I know." The major held out his hand down towards Robert, who grasped it firmly in friendship. "A cashiered colonial, eh? Gave a thought to it myself a few years ago. Decided I couldn't stand the civilian life."

Nodding ruefully, Robert agreed. "I am starting to think better of my choice, sir. Although I find the country air far preferable! If nothing else, because it is not the city!"

"You are a droll wit, Mister Vaughn. A droll wit indeed." He gestured towards his soldiers. "As the Seasons ends, we've prevailed upon the Resident Magistrate to let us train and camp here for a few months. Most of my lads are ex-army already, looking for easy service. Ha! They learned well enough that the home guard are not as soft as they thought! In turn we are to see to the security and safety of travelers upon the road. Highwaymen and the bandits are rare here, of course, but we mean to keep them rare still!"

Robert nodded towards the columns as they passed. "Your men looked well turned out, major! Well drilled and far more orderly than Horse Guard ever gives us credit for." He gestured in the direction of his home. "The hour is late, and I must be home before nightfall. But I pray you, Major! Tell me you will come to call on me Sunday next as my guest for dinner at Grenmere Hall. You and your officers." He opened his arms wide on welcome. "Those who serve the King in arms are sure to find a place at my table. Come, your word, sir! I'll not be denied!"

Major Makepeace laughter heartily. "Dinner is it? We'll be obliged to you! Training out here has left some of my staff in bad temper, and a night of camaraderie would be most welcome. Sunday next it is, sir!"

The encounter left Robert feeling rather buoyed. He found himself half skipping on the way home, light of heart and full of fancies. A new acquaintance made, a lover to bed, far from the hissing of the city geese that gabbed and preened... Robert sometimes did regret his resignation from service, true, only how could he have asked for a better day? There was a dinner to arrange! And, more importunity, there was a woman to be bedded and the chase would make it all the more delightful. His joyous temperament lasted as long as it took to enter the house and find Higgins waiting for him. The look upon the old non-com's face said it all. It made the glad air in Robert's head become a stagnant murk.

"My wife?" he grumbled.

Higgins nodded, handing him a letter. "You wife, sir." The letter told Robert all he needed to know, which was far more of an education than he cared to learn. With firm chin and clenched jaw, he handed the missive back to Higgins. "Go ahead and mail the damnable thing, then. Maybe it will keep her out of my hair for more than a day! I'll... go to her now, I guess."

Saying nothing, Higgins gestured in the direction of the parlor.

He steeled himself, squaring his shoulders and settling his visage, before he calmly entered. "Wife? We are to have dinner guests this Sunday next. A Major Makepeace and his senior officers. I know as you like to entertain, so endeavored to have them visit with us during their extended time here in the vicinity."