It might have been better to hire four horses, instead of two, but Aunt Dottie was in no state to think of that, and clearly the young footman didn’t know to order four. Good. George had never had to hire a post chaise before—never even traveled in one—but she’d heard they were expensive, and four horses and two postilions would be even more expensive. She pulled out the money Burton had given her, and surreptitiously counted it before tucking it back inside her bodice. She’d come away without even a reticule.

Finally the city fell behind them. They’d passed through Kensington, the traffic had lessened, the road was smooth and well-made and the carriage bowled along at a smart clip. They couldn’t keep that up for long, George knew, but it served to relax Aunt Dottie somewhat. She sat back against the leather squabs and heaved a sigh.

George took the old lady’s hand. “Now, Aunt Dottie, tell me, what’s all this about?”

Aunt Dottie gave her a puzzled look. “Didn’t I tell you, dear? Logan is dreadfully ill.”

“Logan? Your butler?” All this, because her butler was sick?

“My Logan, yes. Cook wrote to say he was ill, running a terrible fever. They’d had the doctor to him, but she thought it best if I come.” Her mouth wobbled. Her eyes filled. “You know why people want you to come when someone is terribly ill, don’t you? Because they think . . . because they expect . . .” She burst into tears.

George put her arms around the old lady and let her sob into her shoulder. Her mind was whirling. She knew Logan had worked for Aunt Dottie for years, but this was an overreaction, surely.

And then she thought, what if it were Martha who was ill, possibly dying, maybe even already dead. Martha, who had been like a mother to her. Would not George race to be at her bedside?

She rubbed Aunt Dottie’s back in a slow, soothing rhythm and, once the sobs had quietened, Aunt Dottie curled into the corner of the seat and closed her eyes. Poor thing, she must be exhausted by all the worry and the emotional storm. George pulled a rug out from a compartment and tucked it around the old lady, and soon she was asleep.

The journey stretched before her. Wishing she’d brought a book, George put her feet up against the front of the carriage and watched the countryside slip by. Aunt Dottie slept on. It was only when they stopped to change horses that she woke, and urged that they get moving again with all speed. Once they were back on the road, she dozed off again.