Chase handed his horse to a groom at a public stable two streets from Minerva’s house. It would not do to have his mount standing outside her home at this hour. She might dismiss the notion of gossip harming her name, but he knew better than most how people like to talk.

That thought conjured up memories of the meeting with the solicitor, and how Aunt Dolores, when seeing her battle being lost, spoke the unspeakable about one of her nephews. Him.

I find it odd that you are favoring his counsel, Nicholas. They probably would have shot him if not for my brother’s intercession on his behalf. It was the closest anyone had ever come to voicing the belief he had been under suspicion of cowardice in the army. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the real reason for his departure.

Did you kill him? How often had he heard that question in his head? In the colonel’s voice. In Uncle Frederick’s. In his own.

He had become expert on closing the mental door on that question and the history that provoked it. He did so now with a slam. He walked the rest of the way to Minerva’s house, lining up what he would tell her and what he would hold back.

Among the latter particulars would be his brief conversation with Sanders after the meeting. While the solicitor was quite sure that the correct Minerva Hepplewhite had been found, the lack of a documented connection to the woman known as Margaret Finley bothered him.

“The only two people who know her under both names are in her household,” Sanders had explained. “How your uncle knew of her under either name remains a mystery. I am satisfied, but with the mood of the family, it might be best to find another person who is disinterested. You are still advertising for the other two women. Why not add a notice regarding her married name?”

She opened the door herself when he arrived, backlit by the lamplight in the reception hall. Immediately the intimacy of their last night meeting stretched between them. As if she felt it too, she backed away from the door and let him enter and close it himself.

She led him to the library again, but did not sit. Instead she appeared unsure of herself. That was unusual, and fascinating.

“I suppose we could have done this in the park,” she said.

“It would have been very dark there.”

“I meant in the morning.”

“Then it would have been very light. It would be better if all of London does not wonder why I am strolling the park with one of my cousin’s temporary servants.”

“Of course. Yes.” She sat on the divan, in her usual spot. She did not lift her feet onto the cushions. She did not lounge, but remained upright. Stiff.