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She spoke softly. “It wasn’t a pebble.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve succumbed to whimsy.” Papa began to pace. “You are prone to it, as was my mother. But she didn’t have the benefit of the education I’ve given you. I educated your understanding, not your sentiments. I educated you as I would have educated my own son. And yet you still behave like a silly daughter.”

That stung more. And Papa hadn’t finished.

“I haven’t forgotten you thought the old rabbit warren by the orchard was a barrow. I told you it wasn’t, but you insisted the rabbit skeletons were the remains of miniature men.”

Elfreda’s eyes smarted, and she had to bite her lip to stop its trembling. “I never thought it was a barrow of miniature men. That was a game of make-believe with Agnes. And it was years and years ago. I’m hardly ever silly anymore. Papa, the amulet is real.”

“Then where is it?” He stepped to her and loomed, like Thor himself demanding his lost hammer. “Did it sprout wings and fly away?”

“More like gills,” came a pleasant voice. “The amulet is in my pond.”

Papa’s head snapped around. Georgina was sauntering toward them. “And it wasn’t any fault of your daughter’s.” She smiled as she drew up to them. “I knocked her into the water—accidentally, of course. We collided.”

Elfreda felt Papa’s eyes move over her.

“You are wet, aren’t you?” He cocked his head. “Child, you look as though you were wallowing like a swine.”

“Not at all,” said Georgina. “She was more swan-like than swine-like, in truth.”

Papa’s eyes swung back to her.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Marsden,” she said. “It has been too long.”

Papa clearly did not agree. His nostrils flared. “Did you see the amulet? A little lead hammer? Did you see it?”

Georgina hesitated.

“As I thought.” Papa stroked his beard disapprovingly in Elfreda’s direction. “Go up to the house before you take ill. And you”—he addressed Georgina—“you accidentally knocked my daughter into the water. I assume you have wandered accidentally into my park. I bid you remove yourself.” He inclined his head. “Good afternoon, Captain Redmayne.”

Elfreda’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes met Georgina’s.

“Actually,” said Georgina, with a hint of a smile. “It’s Major Redmayne.” She tucked one hand into the front of her coat, the ubiquitous pose adopted by war heroes in portraiture.

“Major.” Papa nodded. Elfreda turned to stare at him. Could he truly have mistaken Georgina for her brother? Georgina was tall, but Henry Redmayne was over six feet, and much heavier. Their coloring was the same, and they shared the same abhorrent cockiness, and Georgina had dressed for the part. Was that what convinced him? Breeches made the man?

Papa continued, “I thought you were still in France.”

“Oh, I am in France,” said Georgina, smoothly. “Stationed in Cambrai with the Army of Occupation. But they have to let us officers put on mufti and pop over to our country estates every now and then. Ride to hounds.” She glanced at Elfreda. “Build a dyke or two.”

Elfreda’s blood boiled.

“Georgina—” she began.

“Is also here,” supplied Georgina. “With two very dear friends, Miss Poskitt and Miss Mahomed. They request the pleasure of Miss Marsden’s company, for dinner.”

Papa’s eyes narrowed. “And where will you dine?”

“With the other officers, of course.” Georgina smiled an ingenuous smile. “In Thornton.”

“There are no officers in Thornton.” Elfreda felt as though she were chewing glass. “The militia disbanded in 1816.”

“Did it? That’s a shame. The neighborhood will be wanting a bit of dash, then. I suppose I’ll dine at home.” Georgina bowed to Elfreda. “If Miss Marsden doesn’t object to having me at the table.”

Miss Marsden objected with every ounce of her being. She objected so strongly her throat closed up like a fist.

As for Papa, his face had turned a strange shade of puce. “You are designing. But I can easily penetrate your scheme.”