The River of No Return

shock.”
    “I must admit you have done better than most.” Arkady allowed some pride into his voice. “In fact, you have done the best. Most people completely break down. Except for me. Me, I jump back for the first time without a care. I arrive ready for my dinner.”
    Nick could not be bothered with Arkady’s braggadocio, for through the shifting shadows he had caught sight of twinkling candlelight. Falcott House. Where his sisters and mother were probably sitting down to eat . . . he set off at a run.
    “Wait!” He heard Arkady start out after him. “Do you want to break your leg?”
    Nick didn’t care. The clean, rich air of home filled his lungs as he ran, leaving Arkady far behind. The gravel of the drive kicked up behind his heels. He vaulted up the stone steps and pounded on the door. “Mother! Clare! Arabella!”
    The door opened to the butler’s shocked face.
    Nick fell into the doorway, one arm gathering the little butler to his side in a strong embrace. “Winthrop, you old reprobate. Where is my mother?”
    * * *
    An hour later and a modicum of sanity was restored to Falcott House. It turned out that Mother and Arabella were in London for the Season, but Clare had flown into her brother’s arms and stayed there for a full fifteen minutes, crying and laughing and stroking him and calling him by all his childhood names, as servants emerged from every corner of the house to welcome Nick home. Arkady stood to one side and watched it all. Now the Russian was taking himself off to be settled in a guest bedroom. He had explained about their being robbed. Would it be possible to borrow a few things from Lord Blackdown’s wardrobe? Or had all his old clothes been discarded?
    Nick’s mother had not cleared out his rooms after his “death”; his clothes were as he had left them several years ago, when he departed for the war. “Be sure to take all the very best things,” Clare said, laughing over her shoulder at Nick as Arkady bowed low over her hand.
    “I will endeavor to please you, my lady,” the Russian said, straightening and keeping her hand in his.
    Nick felt a rush of anger as he watched them flirt. He frowned, more at the feeling than because of it. The emotion felt so . . . antique.
    Arkady went off to raid Nick’s dressing room, and Clare tucked her hand into the crook of Nick’s elbow. “I must have you to myself for at least three hours,” she said. “I want to hear all about your adventures.”
    “And I want to hear about yours.”
    “That will take two seconds,” she said. “During the winter I do nothing indoors, and during the summer I do nothing outdoors. And now my tale is done.”
    “I don’t believe that.”
    She smiled. “Nor should you. In truth I work very hard. Do you wish for some brandy or tea?”
    Soon Nick found himself seated beside his elder sister on a delicate sofa in the little blue parlor. “I’m sure you could not get a good cup of tea in Spain,” she said, picking up the sugar tongs and getting ready to put a lump into his cup.
    Nick held up his hand. “No sugar, please.”
    Clare looked up. “Your tastes have changed.”
    “Many things have changed in the years since I left for Spain.”
    “Five years is a long time,” she said, “though the war has aged you more, Brother.” She pursed her lips as she looked at him, in that funny way she had that he had forgotten. She handed him his cup, her eyes on the scar across his eyebrow. “It must have been terrible, the war. And terrible to lose your memory.”
    “It was.”
    Clare stirred sugar into her own tea. “We grieved for you. There is a monument in the churchyard in Stoke Canon.”
    “It will have to come down.” Nick was surprised to hear the resolution in his voice. And of course it shouldn’t come down—he was only going to disappear all over again when this task was done, and break her heart once more.
    “Yes, tomorrow.” Clare smiled. “We will smash it to pieces, you and I.”
    “You can wear a chip of it in a locket, to remember how I conquered death.”
    “Arrogant! As if I would carry it around like a fragment of the one true cross.”
    “I don’t see why not.”
    Clare’s smile became a grin. “Of course, Mother must be informed that you are returned.”
    “I shall send for her in the morning.”
    “Yes . . .” Clare appeared to consider it, but Nick knew his sister and could see she had already come up with a plan. “It would be a shame to ruin