“Harry Merridew ensured that your father was present at the wedding, so even though you were not yet one-and-twenty, the marriage was unassailably valid. Harry was not the paragon you thought he was, but that hardly constitutes grounds for an annulment. He put a roof over your head and bread on the table, despite his many, many failings.”

And of course, now the sky had decided to send down not snow, but an icy drizzle miserably blended of rain, snow, and something in between.

Matilda resumed walking. “What has the wedding to do with Tommie?”

“Merridew is legally the boy’s father.”

“Harry’s name is not on the birth registry. He told me that later, in the midst of an argument, when he thought I’d be cowed by the notion that my son dwelled under a cloud of potential scandal.”

“Merridew is still legally the boy’s father.” Tremont took her arm to accompany her up the steps of his town house. “What did he hope…? Ah, he wanted to blackmail Joseph’s family. If they sought any connection with their fallen soldier’s progeny, Harry’s failure to appear on a birth record would aid that scheme.”

Matilda paused beneath the porch awning to survey the dreary street. The coach lumbered into view around the corner, and Tremont waved it on to the mews.

“That scheme apparently came to nothing,” Matilda said. “Joseph’s family knew a confidence trickster when one showed up on their doorstep. I take your point regarding Tommie. Harry could kidnap him, and I’d have nothing—legally—to say to it. I had not focused on that scenario, having been more concerned with the damage Harry can do to me personally. I doubt he will consider Tommie’s role in the whole business. Tommie was… a pet, to Harry. Amusing, until it was time to hand a squalling, malodorous baby back to me.”

“That baby is how Harry inveigled you into speaking your vows. You are a devoted mother, Matilda, hence my reminder that you must set me aside if that is the best course for you and Tommie.”

She let herself into the house. “That is your honor talking. What does your heart say?”

Tremont followed her into the foyer and closed the door. “My heart is ready to die for you, but not to kill for you. I wish it were otherwise, but I cannot justify a selfish, murderous impulse in this case.”

“I won’t ask that you die or kill for me.” She let him untie the damp ribbons of her bonnet and tucked her gloves into the pocket of her cloak. “Do you recall asking me once upon a time what I wanted?”

Tremont removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “The memory will delight me until the day I am summoned for celestial judgment.”