Alex grudgingly followed after him. The stairs creaked under his wet boots. “Where’s your father?”

“At the church, drafting his Sunday sermon. He’ll be back for supper. You can meet him then—unless we’re invited to dine at Edgington Park.” George led Alex down a short hall to a snug guest room, complete with a vase of daisies on the washstand. “Mrs. Griffiths looks after us. Has done for ages. If you require anything, just give a tug on the bell pull.”

“I need hot water to wash with.”

“Ah yes. Stupid of me. I’ll have her send some up. Is there anything else?”

“That depends. How soon are we to leave?”

“As soon as Miss Hayes can be summoned. It shouldn’t be long. It’s not as if the woman has a busy social calendar.”

Chapter 2

Aunt Charlotte entered Laura’s bedroom, an open letter clasped in her hand. Her normally cheerful face was set into lines of grim resignation. “George Wright has come home.”

Laura sat at her dressing table, her head cocked as she dried her freshly washed hair with a piece of rough toweling. At the sound of Aunt Charlotte’s voice, she froze. “What?”

“He arrived yesterday morning on the train from London.” Aunt Charlotte paced to the window and back again. Her black taffeta skirts rustled along the worn Aubusson carpet that covered the equally worn floorboards.

Laura’s black-and-white tomcat, Magpie, watched Aunt Charlotte’s progress from his place on the bed, his tail thumping idly against the counterpane.

“He plans to stay the month,” Aunt Charlotte said. “Perhaps even longer.”

Laura’s heartbeat quickened in spite of herself. “Who says so?”

“Miss Talbot.” Aunt Charlotte waved the letter. “She’s sent you a note.”

The damp towel fell from Laura’s fingers. She didn’t regard it. “You opened it?”

“I should think I did. Henrietta Talbot has no right to summon you. You’re not her lady-in-waiting, whatever she might believe.”

Laura held out her hand for the letter.

Aunt Charlotte crossed the room to give it to her.

“When did it come?” Laura asked as she opened it.

“Not half an hour ago. You were still in your bath.”

Laura’s gaze swept over the brief missive. “Mr. Wright has brought a friend with him. Henrietta can’t accompany the pair of them without a chaperone. She requests I come directly.”

Aunt Charlotte came to stand beside her. She was a woman of magnificent size, and despite a general air of shabby gentility, as regal in her own way as the queen. “I trust you won’t oblige her.”

“I have no reason not to.”

“No reason! My dear girl, you’ve been half in love with George Wright since you were children. Why must you subject yourself to being in his presence?”