With a sheepish grin, George joined them at the breakfast table. He dropped his plum cake onto a plate and allowed his sister to pour him out a cup of coffee.

“You have the worst timing, George,” Jane told him. “We’re just on our way out. Indeed, I’ve already ordered the carriage.”

“Out? Out where? And where is Aunt Harriet? Isn’t she supposed to be chaperoning the pair of you?”

“Aunt Harriet’s in her room with a breakfast tray. And Margaret and I are only going shopping, not to promenade along the Dark Walk at Vauxhall. We shall have our maids with us. And a footman as well. Of course,” she continued, “if you’re very concerned for our safety, you may accompany us yourself.”

“I might at that,” George replied severely. “The two of you out and about with nothing but two useless abigails and a lone footman? Recipe for disaster if I’ve ever heard one. I remember a time when there were so many gents crowding round Miss Honeywell, she could scarcely draw breath.”

Maggie laughed. She remembered it, too. It had been an oppressively stuffy ballroom and George had taken her delicate lace fan from her hand and wafted it about her so vigorously that the sticks had broken. “Those days are long gone, I assure you. I’m six and twenty now.”

“By Jove, are you? You don’t look it.” George took a swallow of coffee. “Not that it will make a bit of difference with the gossip going round after this morning. People bound to stare and whisper. And plenty of old tabbies won’t scruple to question you outright, you mark my words.”

Maggie’s smile faded. “Gossip? What gossip?”

Jane’s eyes narrowed at her brother. “Yes, George. Exactly what are you talking about?”

“That’s the very thing I’ve come to tell you. I was out riding this morning in the park. I’ve bought a new gelding, Miss Honeywell. A prime goer. Not unlike that blood chestnut you had back when—” He broke off at a stern look from his sister. “Yes. Quite. As I was saying, I was out in the park this morning. All the fellows were talking about it. It’s not quite the thing to speak about in front of ladies, but I daresay Jane has already told you—”

“Yes, yes. She knows about the duel.” Jane waved him on with an impatient hand. “What did you hear?”

Maggie leaned forward in her chair, her attention fixed on Jane’s brother. St. Clare had promised not to hurt Fred. And he’d given her no reason to doubt his word. It had all seemed to be settled.