So engrossed was she in her thoughts that after their midday meal, one at which Jeremy had talked a lot but she had heard little, she dallied in the kitchen, barely noticing Beth cleaning the plates. She was still there when Beth sat down beside her.

“Now,” Beth said. “How did your call on Mr. Radnor go?”

She looked at Beth and saw that her old friend knew everything. Jeremy must have told her how long he stood outside, and how Chase had come out in dishabille and sent him for a carriage. How she had floated down to the conveyance still besotted, feeling like a metamorphosis had occurred.

“Our discussion went very well,” she said. “He was a little angry I had not confided in him, but he understood when I explained why.”

“Very sensible of him.”

“Wasn’t it? So I would describe our conversation as successful.”

“Would you now?”

“Yes. The whole visit was very successful.” She met Beth’s gaze squarely. “Actually, one part of it was nothing short of wonderful.”

Beth pushed herself up. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m happier than you will ever know. I’ll not speak a word against him from now on, unless he gives me fresh cause to do so.”

* * *

Brigsby being Brigsby said not a word about the night visitor. He merely set about adapting to the requirements she had created. He drew a bath in the morning, and plucked up the remnants of Chase’s clothing as if he found them strewn around the bedchamber all the time. He got Chase dressed for town, then served breakfast for one, not the two that Chase suspected he had initially arranged. He delivered the mail and the ironed newspaper.

Afterward, when Chase returned to his chamber and sat to write some letters, Brigsby arrived with a high stack of linens, and proceeded to change the bedclothes. Except for the unusual discarding of his own frockcoat in order to attend to the chore, one would think from his demeanor that his master had women in his bed on a regular basis.

Chase turned back to his letters. One had been easy to write. The second and third ones proved more difficult. There was little to be gained from putting them off, however, so he got through them just in time to hand the stack to Brigsby to be posted at once. No sooner had his valet left than he decided to write again. It promised to be a hellish day, but with luck it might end well.

At one o’clock he sent for his horse and rode to Gilbert Street, where Aunt Agnes lived. The butler escorted him to a small drawing room upstairs. In it he found both aunts sitting on opposite ends of a large divan. One looked to the wall and the other looked to the floor. The point, he gathered, was not to look at each other.