“That is my thinking. If you will do this, I will be grateful. And I will return to meet Miss Turner this evening.”

Minerva made her way back to the street, with her excitement building. It had been a good meeting, in more ways than she had anticipated. Not only might she have new clients with Mrs. Drable’s help, but she also might have a new employee. Both notions gave her optimism about her plan. What really interested her, however, was the information that Hollinburgh was hosting a family gathering.

Jeremy now observed the house, but she had just found a way inside it for herself. That meant not watching from a distance, but from a few feet away.

* * *

That afternoon, Minerva presented herself at the chambers of Mr. Sanders, solicitor. She had changed into one of her best dresses, and worn her favorite bonnet, a blue one with crimson lining. Even so, her confidence wobbled as she entered the office the solicitor used with clients.

He seemed a kind man, mild mannered and given to measured speech. Not too young, which reassured her he might know what he was about. Not too officious, which hopefully meant he would not be looking to cause her trouble.

After greeting her he proceeded to question her about her relationship with the duke. The lack of one did not dismay him at all.

“It is possible, of course, that an error has been made. If so, I am abjectly sorry.” He flipped through the pages of the will. “Did you once live in Dorset, and were married to one Algernon Finley?”

“I was.”

“Is there anyone who can support this?”

She told him about Beth and Jeremy. “They lived in my husband’s house, so they knew me then.”

“Do you have family in Dorset still?”

“My parents have been dead for many years. My relatives for the most part emigrated close to eight years ago. Nor did they live in Dorset, but in the county over.”

“Any others who have known you under both names?”

“I don’t think so. Although I visited London with my husband, I did not make friends or participate in society.”

“I suppose a few more notices in the papers here will confirm there are no other Minerva Hepplewhites in London who once lived in Dorset under the name Finley. I think we can go forth on the presumption that you are indeed the woman in question.” He jotted some notes. “I am curious. Is there a reason you changed your name?”

She had prepared for this. “My husband died with debts. More than his estate could pay. I chose to leave the area and change my name so creditors would not continue to hound me.”

“Understandable.”