Thinking publicity would help raise awareness of his campaign, he had agreed, and now he found himself sitting in the glare of camera lights, while a girl with dirty toenails and an earnest air snapped a clapperboard in his face—which was doing nothing for his blood pressure. 'That's it,' he said, standing up.

'But, Lieutenant Colonel Grant…Cade.' She clearly thought that using his first name might soften him. She was destined to fail. 'You haven't finished interviewing the prospective candidates for the post of…' she paused for dramatic effect '… Housekeeper to a Hero—'

'If you mean the stooges—'

The earnest one's eyes gleamed. ''No one else turned up… And so in order to prevent the interview from being a complete disaster, I provided—'

'Stooges from your team? Yes, I know.' He pushed his chair back. And now you can all pack up and go home; this interview is over.'

He stood at his full height, knowing that with the top of his head brushing the beams he was an intimidating sight. He should have known it was a mistake to let anyone into his life, and that it was just an excuse to pry. The only reason he'd done it this time was because he'd hoped television coverage would promote his scheme to turn Featherstone Hall into a rehabilitation centre for returning soldiers; a service he was determined to expand throughout the country. But the reporter was only interested in graphic stories of heroics, with plenty of blood and gor