“Oh, how dreadful.” Selena’s hand flew to her mouth. “The poor things. I would never have made such a foolish joke, Hugh, had I but known. We must visit the families later today.” Hugh saw real tears in his sister’s eyes and instantly regretted his harshness. Selena was still a child, only just out of the schoolroom.

“I will tell you the details later,” he said, more kindly.

He changed the subject. “What do you think of John’s growth? Is he not a few inches taller?”

John, bursting with good behaviour, stood sturdily at the door with Philomena close behind. As the Dowager approached, the small boy managed a highly creditable bow and received a grandmother’s kiss with a brave show of nonchalance. Ignoring Philomena’s previous instructions, he threw his arms cheerfully around Selena. His aunt bent low, and John kissed her wetly on the cheek. Selena dropped a favourite shawl in the crush. By the time Philomena retrieved and returned it, Hugh’s sister had completely forgotten the unwelcome news of the accident.

The Dowager, possessed of a tiny stature that concealed a mighty personality, wore the Regency fashions of a bygone era. She stood straight as a ramrod under a green turban, decorated with a coquelicot feather. Her heavy travelling pelisse of merina cloth stretched almost to the floor.

She pulled it more comfortably around her shoulders and frowned at Philomena. “You,” she boomed, “are not Abigail.” She paused. “Why is that?”

Philomena curtsied but struggled to reply.

“Abigail had to return home unexpectedly.” Smoothly, Hugh removed the need to explain.

“In-deed.” The Dowager endowed the single word with a depth of meaning and an audible hyphen. Hugh turned away to hide his annoyance. He knew his mother disapproved of the way he ran his household in the absence of a wife. With a curt nod, he led on to the parlour where James, the footman, was laying out a tray of refreshments.

“Oh, how lovely,” said Selena. “A glass of lemonade is exactly the thing one most needs after such a tiresome journey.” Hugh, tempted to point out the great good fortune of a household able to afford such treats at Christmas, subsided. He would not vent his anger on his sister. The plight of the poor working men killed by the wreck in Sonning Cutting was not her fault.

In any case, she had clearly forgotten his reprimand. John, dismissed with a cool peck on the cheek from his grandmother, returned to the nursery with Philomena.

Hugh entertained his mother and sister with the story of Philomena’s arrival, touching only lightly on the horrors of the crash, out of deference for his mother’s sensibilities.

“How very fascinating.” The Dowager took another sip of lemonade.

Chapter Thirteen

Philomena supervised John’s luncheon, taken in the nursery. A sudden bustling on the stairs and the hum of voices gave warning that the visitors approached. Philomena had just time enough to straighten her dress and make sure the brooch was hidden from view before a footman threw open the door. Selena entered. Philomena breathed a sigh of relief.