On that sobering thought, when Tully arrived to open the curtains, I asked her to sew the sheath of my silver knife into the sleeve of my riding habit. She met the request with her usual equanimity and got to work. On the face of it, the operation should have been straightforward, but it took both of us some time to figure out the engineering of easy access. As Tully remarked, it would help no one if I drew my weapon and sliced open my own artery on the way out.

Thus, when I finally walked into the bright morning room, Julia, Charlotte, the Ermine, and Evan were already seated at the table. Porty and Mr. Ellis-Brant, I was promptly told by Charlotte, had already finished their repast and gone to view some rain damage on a tenant’s farm, and Mrs. Carter and Miss Dashwood were taking trays in their rooms.

“I am sure an unmarried lady never took breakfast in her room here before, Charlotte,” Mrs. Ellis-Brant said archly.

“The breakfast trays were my suggestion,” Charlotte said, quashing any further comment.

The morning meal was laid out on the sideboard: I picked up a plate and investigated the offerings as a footman lifted each silver cloche, deciding upon glazed ham, a hard-boiled egg, cheese, and bread. With my plate so laden, I took my seat at the table.

“Did you wish for The Times, Lady Augusta?” Charlotte asked.

“No, I would like to start riding as soon as I have finished breakfast,” I said. “If that suits you, Mr. Talbot?”

“It does, indeed,” Evan said.

He had a pile of ham on his plate and was addressing it with vigor. I liked sitting across from him, the ordinariness of taking breakfast together. I knew we dealt well together in times of crisis, and we had built a certainty around that relationship, but what about a conventional life? Would we deal just as well taking breakfast together every morning ad infinitum? I pulled myself up; was a conventional life with Lord Evan Belford what I really wanted? Could I really relinquish my independence? I had not thought much beyond the struggle for Evan’s exoneration, but if we were eventually successful and a proposal made, it was not going to be a straightforward matter. At least not for me. A woman lost not only all her assets within a marriage, but also her individual identity and, to a disturbing degree, the ability to steer her own life. A troubling dilemma.

“I do hope you enjoy your ride, Lady Augusta,” Charlotte said, pulling me from my thoughts. She dabbed at her mouth with her serviette. “If you are finished, Emelia, I would like to start upon our belated visits. I have ordered the gig to come round.”

“Of course,” the Ermine said, casting me a knowing look as the footman pulled back her chair.