“GABBY! What on earth are you doing in Abchurch Lane?” Sophie exclaimed. “I’ve never met another soul I knew here.”

Gabby smiled a bit shyly. “I came to visit an apothecary. How are you, Sophie?”

Sophie turned about and tucked Gabby’s arm into hers. “Bored, dearest. I am yawning with tedium. I visited Mr. Spooner’s bookstore in hopes of finding a Norwegian grammar book, for nothing more than curiosity. And he failed me. But I must apologize: I have been horribly remiss. I meant to call last week to congratulate you on your marriage.”

Gabby opened her mouth, but Sophie kept right on chattering. “You married the right brother, you know. Peter is a dear, but Quill…well, if I hadn’t already met Patrick by the time Quill emerged from his sickroom, I might have thrown my hat into the ring.” Sophie gave her a twinkling smile.

“In that case, I am glad that my husband’s illness lasted so long,” Gabby said. “I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“Pooh! My Patrick says that Quill is besotted.”

Gabby laughed, but she felt a secret gleam of delight. “That sounds like foolishness. How could your husband possibly know whether Quill is besotted or not?”

“Oh, men.” Sophie gave her delicate French shrug. “Who knows how they understand each other? Sometimes I think Patrick must speak in code to his brother, Alex, because they rarely converse, yet Patrick always knows if something is wrong. They’re twins, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” Gabby said with some curiosity. “Do they look alike?”

“People seem to think so. But I have never agreed,” Sophie replied. “I would love to introduce you, but Alex and his wife, Charlotte, are still in the country because Charlotte is expecting a child.”

“I see,” Gabby said, not seeing at all. Since they were in mourning, she and Quill had not attended many public events. But she had seen women everywhere who were large with child.

“Charlotte had some bother giving birth to her first child,” Sophie explained, “and Alex is simply rabid with worry and won’t let my poor friend rise from the couch. Patrick keeps complaining that he’s getting ulcers due to Alex’s nervous spates.”

“So each knows what the other is feeling?”

“Yes, I believe that’s the way of twins. Is this your apothecary, Gabby? I must say, it looks undistinguished.” They stood in front of a tiny shop with square projecting windows and small panes of filthy glass.

Gabby pulled from her reticule the advertisement she had clipped from The Times. “Yes, this is it.”

“I think we had better leave our maids here. We won’t all fit inside,” Sophie said dubiously. “Lift up your skirts!” she called as Gabby pushed open the dingy door, causing a bell to ring.