Aunt Charlotte stopped pacing and turned to face them. “Why, it must be George Wright, of course! Heaven’s above, I don’t know why I didn’t see it straightaway. You’ve always worn the willow for him. And now he’s returned—”

“Not George,” Laura said, a touch sharply. “Even if he did wish to marry me—which he doesn’t—”

“How do you know—?”

“I know. I also know that I’d never marry him. Not if he were the last gentleman on earth.”

Aunt Charlotte’s face fell. “But then…what other choice is there? Single gentlemen aren’t in abundance in Lower Hawley. Certainly none who would be willing to marry into a family such as ours.”

“No,” Laura said. “We haven’t much to recommend us, have we? And we’ve very little time before my birthday arrives. Not even enough time to call the banns.” She moistened her lips. “Which is why…I think we’re going to have to settle for option two. We’ll consult with another solicitor.”

“How?” Teddy wondered. “You’ve already said we haven’t the money for it.”

“I’ll ask Henrietta to lend it to us. Just the consulting fee, mind. We don’t even know yet if we have a case against Mr. Weatherwax. I don’t want us pressing forward with no hope of success. There are unscrupulous solicitors who would happily wring every last penny out of us in pursuing fruitless claims. We must proceed with caution.”

“Perhaps we should speak with a local solicitor?” Aunt Charlotte suggested. “Someone in Guildford or—”

“No, it must be London. We need a solicitor who’s canny, as well as capable.” Laura reached for her reticule. “A maidservant at Mr. Weatherwax’s office recommended someone.”

“A maidservant!” Aunt Charlotte’s brows shot up. “What would a maidservant know?”

“I haven’t any idea. But she gave me a solicitor’s card.” Laura withdrew it from her reticule and handed it to her brother. “Someone in Fleet Street.”

Teddy looked it over with a frown. “Thomas Finchley, Esquire.”

Laura nodded. “The best solicitor in London, apparently. I shall write him a letter this very afternoon. Then, in the morning, I shall call on Henrietta and broach the subject of a loan.”

Aunt Charlotte’s face creased with worry. “And if Mr. Weatherwax finds out?”

Laura rose from her chair. “We shall simply have to pray that he doesn’t.”

Alex leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree under which Miss Talbot had spread out their picnic blanket. Or rather, one of her footmen had. The liveried servants had followed along behind them from the house, carrying plates, cutlery, and provisions, as they traipsed the grounds of Edgington Park looking for the perfect picnic spot.