She’d already experienced the character Alice’s adventure of stepping into a world so very different from her own. Slowly, she shook her head. “No, thank you.”

Alice’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s odd but you seem sadder of late, sadder than you were when Lushing first passed away.”

“I suppose it’s just the reality hitting home.”

“The reality that you’re not with child?”

She had yet to tell her sisters, to tell anyone, of her condition. Once she did, once she credited this child with being Lushing’s—

Why was it so hard to move forward, to carry through with the plans? She wished she could talk with Lushing, although he would no doubt suggest they get Kit’s opinion on the matter. Perhaps she should speak with him. Surely, he would know if Lushing would hate her for the deception. “I’m not yet certain of my state.”

Alice closed her book. “Have you had your menses since Lushing passed?”

“It could be melancholy preventing it.” Only it wasn’t.

“Perhaps you should visit a physician.”

Her sister’s voice was laced with true concern. Selena should put an end to her worry, to all their worries, by telling them a babe was on the way. But the words simply knotted in her throat, would not spill forth. Although when Winslow had visited several nights ago and asked if she were with child, she hadn’t denied it, had simply asked him to hold his tongue for a while longer.

“Why? The sooner word spreads, the more likely people will believe it’s Lushing’s,” he’d told her.

So she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t already whispering about her condition around Town. Which was no doubt the best way for it to be spread: in whispers. No woman would be indelicate enough to blurt out she was with child.

“I’ll visit one next week,” she told Alice now. “After that, perhaps we’ll return to Sheffield Hall.” No point in staying in London where her sisters would be aware of all the social events they were missing out on.

Alice scooted up to the edge of her chair. “We need to do something to brighten your day. Let’s go to Fancy’s bookshop. I’ve been dying to see it now that it’s open.”

“Sweeting, I’m still in mourning.”

“We all are. It’s the reason we’re dressed like crows, but it’s doubtful we’ll run into anyone we know there, and we can make it a somber excursion. We’ll only look at books that deal with death or war or murder.”