“To be honest, if I had to marry, I’d far prefer a husband who was mostly unaware of my existence.”

Fen gave a yelp of laughter. “Pat!”

“Well, I don’t see the appeal,” Pat said, grinning. “Men are dreadfully self-centred in my experience. One is expected to listen to everything they want to say while making their lives pleasant and all without a word of thanks. I may be biased,” she added fairly. “I mostly know brothers, not husbands, and I’ve never felt any urge to marry, so you probably shouldn’t ask my opinion. But I do feel that if you are to marry, if you want to, then—well, the other party ought to want to just as much.”

“And Jimmy’s not giving that impression,” Fen said. “Is he?”

“Men do get cold feet, I understand,” Pat said, before remembering she was talking to a double jilt. “Er...”

“And so do women, yes, yes. I didn’t actually want to get cold feet again, you know. If I end a third engagement, people will say the most ghastly things about me, and Daddy will be quite exasperated. I’ve been telling myself that it’s my fault for inviting myself here, trying to believe there’s nothing at all to worry about and I’m just being silly. But there is something wrong. Isn’t there?”

“Sorry,” Pat said wretchedly. “Though I really don’t know if—well, if it’s anything to do with you.”

“Who else would it be to do with?”

“Has Jimmy told you he’s been having some sort of trouble with Haworth?”

“No,” Fen said. “He hasn’t told me anything. He hasn’t said anything of any significance to me at all.”

“Oh. Well, he did mention it, and...” Oh God. Was Haworth’s victim Jimmy? He’d told her he couldn’t retaliate against the man as he’d have liked. Suppose Jimmy was under his brother-in-law’s thumb in some way?

She couldn’t say so. To stain Jimmy with the suspicion that he’d done something worthy of blackmail would be utterly unfair. “I don’t know. I have the impression there’s more wrong with Haworth than just being a remarkably unpleasant man.”

“Well, yes,” Fen said. “For one thing, he’s all but bankrupt. He was a junior partner in Threppel and Swing, the stockbroker business that collapsed six months ago and took a number of fortunes with it, including much of the Earl’s. And for another—well, have you ever seen a more obvious drug fiend?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you not think so?”

“I have absolutely no idea what a drug fiend might look like,” Pat said. “Do you?”