A REAL A/N WHERE I APOLOGIZE FOR A MINOR MISTAKE: It has come to my attention as my brothers are watching The Patriot this VERY moment (oh, the irony!), that Bordon is NOT a major, but a captain. Forgive me please *grovels*, but I had not seen the movie in a very long time! Ok, onward.

William stared at his sister with a baffled look. "What do you mean by 'Had I a husband?'"

"Exactly what I said," she snorted with a half laugh.

"But, I thought you married, ah, whatsisname, Mr—" Tavington scratched his head, trying to remember. His sister sighed and shook her head.

"Do you remember crazy Mr. Fitzwilliam—the one who was madly in love with me and wrote me love letters every day for two years?"

"Yes…I do recall him."

"See, father was foolish enough to invite him to my wedding—"

"He is a family friend, Constance."

Her eyes widened dramatically. "Not any more. Anyhow, in a twist that no one could have ever conceived, Mr. Fitzwilliam charged into my room on the wedding night. My husband was there, ah, of course," she blushed a bit.

"So, Mr. Fitzwilliam drew his sword and ran my husband through. He then proceeded to proclaim his undying love, no matter whether I had yet been 'tainted' by my husband, and he begged me to run away with him to Austria.

"I say no and start to scream, sob, &c., as loud as you please over my poor murdered husband. Every servant in the house ran in and saw crazy Mr. Fitzwilliam spouting epic poetry and me in my bloody underwear, in tears, clutching my husband. They pounced on him and dragged him off and I have been a widow ever since with 'spinster' stamped upon my brow…." Her eyes grew misty and far away. She brought a handkerchief to her eyes.

"Oh, Constance…you cannot be serious!" William opened his arms to her again. His face was pale and shocked.

"No, I'm not," Constance snapped, whacking her brother. Her face was now mocking. "It just proves how insensitive of a big brother you are as to not write me and find out!"

"Fine, Constance; you've proved your point. Enough dramatics from you. What really happened?"

She took in a breath and folded her hands above her belly. "Well, I was going to marry a very handsome young man of considerable wealth from a very respected family. We grew to be very much in love before our impending marriage in the summer. Oh, how we doted on each other! He was my little lamb. I would read to him in the garden, play music for him, he would take me hunting, and everyone said I was very handsome on his arm.

"But, as we know, father lusted for Dame Fortune, and blew his entire estate away at her desire. With the sweep of an ill-played hand, it was gone. He continued to lose and lose and died a penniless, alcohol sodden death at our winter lodge. Suddenly with no money, our family's reputation and honor mangled, I was not very pretty to my betrothed.

"Once the toast of our circle, I was then cast aside and forgotten by our former 'friends.' I struggled to make ends meet and had to sell almost everything just to stay alive. Nevermind all my clothes were out of fashion—which did not matter to me as long as I was alive. Only dear, dear Alexander Swift, your oldest and dearest friend, who was also like a third brother to me, took pity on me and supported me with anonymous 'donations.' However, your best friend decided that I was obligated to repay him, somehow—" she paused, lip trembling as she fought to restrain the tears. Constance punched into her thigh, averting her gaze. "And since I was just 'that Tavington girl' to everyone else, no one cared what he did to me. Not so much as a care when he dragged me out of the ----'s ball to the stables and forced me there." Her face was stony now, and she had reined in the threatening tears. "At least you and Edward have some semblance of honor left."

William took his sister in his arms and held her close to him. "I am sorry I was not there for you, darling. I am so sorry." He stroked her hair as she began to weep.

"There's nothing that can be done now," the sister mumbled into his shoulder. She dried her eyes on her sleeve, finding it far more functional than the little handkerchief.

"So, destitute, ravaged, and ill, I came to the colonies with only my horse Roxelana, thinking I could at least sell her once I arrived her if I must. I came to the colonies to find you. That was perhaps two years ago, when all this trouble with the peasants began to brew dangerously. I saw you but once, up north in New York before you were a colonel. At least you were alive, and that pleased me. So I wrote you. When that method failed, I tracked you down and joined your dragoons."

"But why not find Edward?"

"Last anyone knew, Edward was destined to the same fate as Father. Someone told me Edward decided to go to either Russia or Egypt. Where, God knows. Why, be damned if anyone, even God, knows."

Tavington sighed. So this was his little sister now. He remembered when she was about a year old and their mother admitted the girl was her favorite, even over the charming little William. His middle brother, Edward, was generally misliked, for he was dull-witted, boorish, and treated everyone like his inferior. William had found his baby sister when she wandered off just after she learned to walk. He was ten then, and little Constance had adored him from that moment on. He called her 'Kitty' for her fixation with the tabby cat that belonged to a servant. As she learned to talk, she had a difficult time attempting to say 'brother'. Somehow it had come out sounding like 'Bunny.' Much to his dismay, that had been his loving sobriquet for his entire life, and most especially when she pleaded for something.

Constance had always been the oddity to the typically sullen males of the family. They were not entirely devoid of humor, but they had the tendency to grow too focused in their pursuits. No, the girl had been like her poor mother, who died on Constance's fourth birthday. Elizabeth Tavington had been a jovial spirit, very inclined to music, pranks, and art. She had written a series of comic sketches for her family's entertainment. Had she lived longer, she would have been much pleased with her daughter's quick jokes, quirky laugh, and ability bordering on virtuosity on the strings. And Constance was just as lovely as Mrs. Tavington was with a delicate round face of intricate features. Both possessed a magnificent pair of large eyes and vibrant auburn hair. Brother and sister had inherited her green eyes—the son's more of a translucent jade.

Tavington could not peel his eyes from her. He felt great sorrow for her and for failing in his role as big brother. He forced himself to say: "You should not be here, Constance. A melancholy thing this war is to a man, but it would entirely destroy a woman. I am forced to discharge you. I cannot, in good conscience, allow my sister to offer her life in the service of the very people who shamed her." There was finality to his tone as he searched through papers on his desk. "You must."

"No, I must not, William Tavington!" Raging eyes transfixed him and brought him back down into his chair. Constance had always been temperamental when her motives were threatened.

"William, you and I are the only true Tavingtons left! Edward be damned; he's a fool and a drunkard just like our father! We are noble despite having our dignity and esteem ripped coldly from us as if it were no more than a dingy dishclout! You are all I have left of that former life. You are proud and strong and noble and my beloved Bunny. I cannot allow you to die for the same reasons you have named for me. I am not going to permit myself to allow you to slip away without going mad. Please, William, I can protect you better than you believe. Remember how we used to go hunting? You taught me to shoot, ride, and Bordon has been teaching me to fence properly. I make good progress, he says."

"These bumpkins don't fence with etiquette, Constance. It's not as simple as you think."

"How so? Surely bagging red-necked yahoo is no more difficult than shooting a partridge." She shifted on her hips with a wry grin. He allowed himself a chuckle as she continued: "Surely we can spit roast a few for supper. Methinks rice would be a lovely side-dish."

"Constance, you are vile. You have not changed one little bit."

"Oh? You think?" she mused aloud. "I think I'm worse than I was when you last saw me."

He buried his head in his hands. "Very well then. I will allow you to stay. I will watch out for you, and you will watch out for me. I assume that's agreed. Now, I would like you to grant me one favor."

She prepared to leave, figuring on visiting Bordon. "What is that, dear brother?"

"I would like it very much if my sister would ride into camp tomorrow and visit. No façade for a few days. Is that acceptable?" He was stern, gazing fixedly at her. "Is that a feasible request?"

"How long do I have to be female?" The oddity of the question caused both of them to blink in puzzlement. Constance began to laugh uproariously. "A few days. Agreed." She crossed to his spot behind the desk and kissed his forehead. "I'll leave now and stay the night at an inn. I still have a few dresses in my trunk. Miss Tavington will ride in tomorrow, handsome and polished as ever. Now, goodnight, brother. I will see you in the morn." She kissed his forehead again and disappeared into the dark.

The colonel collapsed onto the desk, unsure of what was to come of his sister's appearance in camp. He wanted to hide from it all—this was not a responsibility he wanted now. He loved his sister, but she was too much of a handful to tolerate on top of the enigmatic wraith massacring officers at every skirmish and the Lord General's wrath.

William Tavington began to pray.

Next chapter: The re-arrival of Miss Constance Tavington and the sensation

she creates in camp.