When I came upstairs, I was so angry that I became just as taciturn as my mother. But after throwing several pieces of clothing into a bag, I managed to tell her and Viviana that I was off to Bath on business. It would only take a few days, and I would be back soon if they could mind the shop in my absence.

Just what the business was, I did not say. In fact, for myself I was not quite sure. I only knew that the detente that I had come to depend upon for many years could not last. Luke Barlow was in London, and he appeared poised to marry again. There were many steps that I would need to take if I wished to stay safe from him.

But I had underestimated the effect of being in the city of Bath. As soon as I fancied that I smelled the River Avon, so much cleaner and more romantic than the old Thames, my spirits lifted a bit. When I went to an inn that my neighbor had recommended, asking for their smallest room, I realized with some surprise that I would be quite able to afford my little holiday. To think, if I had only been willing to spend a small sum of my profits, I might have taken two holidays a year, rather than my customary one week at the end of September! And for the last two years, I had not even taken that, preferring ahead to let Viviana go on with her gran while I joined them only for their final two days. We could never afford to do much for amusement, but simply watching the late sunsets was usually enough. The city fairly gleamed in autumn, and even in late summer it was already sparkling. Now that I was in Bath on my own, the days seemed to spread out before me.

Except, I recalled, they could not. If I were one of those ladies of luxury, I might simply loll about and take the waters, but I was faced with far more serious decisions than which great lady to call on. I had a very clear objective in my journey, and I must not let fine weather and beautiful views of the sea distract me from my aim. After taking tea at the inn, I set out to find Mrs. White, one of the only clients whom I had ever viewed as anything more than an acquaintance. Though Mrs. White was much wealthier than I, she did not come from money, and I knew that I could depend on her secrecy.

When I saw her, I apologized for dropping in uninvited, but she would hear of no such thing. She was a tall and thin woman, but she fairly engulfed me in her embrace. Her hair had gone grayer since I last saw her, but since it was the color of straw to begin with she hardly looked any different. After the usual pleasantries about children and summer plans, I asked her if I might have a word with her husband. After all, though he was retired, I heard that he had been a highly skilled solicitor in his day.

“William is in his study,” she said, a little too loudly. She was hard of hearing in her right ear, and had a tendency to shout and then ask if I could still hear her.

“Might I have a few minutes?” I asked. “I shan’t wish to trouble him long, and am happy to charge any fee that he requires.”

She waved that away with her right hand and a grand smile. “He won’t take your money, my dear Mrs. Allen!” she nearly yelled. “I’m sure he has a moment for you, though.”

She insisted that I come with her to the study before she had even asked her husband. “Mrs. Allen,” he said, rising, and greeting me as an old friend. We had only met a few times before, since he could not be bothered to shop himself and rarely went into society.

“Mrs. Allen has a legal question, my dear. I shall leave you to it,” said my friend, striding out of the study and closing the door behind her.

“I am sorry to trouble you, Mr. White,” I said, though the truth was that I knew how he would respond to my politeness.

“Take me away from the papers,” he grumbled, slamming one down on his desk. “I tell you, those fools in London have not the slightest notion of anything. I never should have retired.”

“Well, I am thankful that I have your professional mind at my disposal,” I said, then froze. Did I really want to tell a professional what I was thinking? The identity of Mrs. Allen had served me well over the years. Only Rachel and my mother knew that Vivi’s father lived, and that in the eyes of the law I was still married. To absolutely everyone else, I was a young army widow, and had all the respectability that went with this status. By telling Mr. White, I would be jeopardizing my position in society. None of my clients would want to buy a hat from a slattern, or worse, from a divorcee.

“Go on, then,” said the man. “Out with it. My rusty old mind will not know what to make of your troubles if you tell me nothing.”

My troubles must have shown in my face, and I endeavored to look at least a little bit less grim.

“This must go no further,” I told him, still leery of confessing anything to a man who had not taken my money. After all, that must mean that he thought I owed him something, when I would have greatly preferred that he feel he indebted to me.

“Mrs. Allen,” he said. “I was known as one of the most discreet men in town, now, was I not?”

All I could do was nod. “But that is not saying a great deal, sir.”

He gave a chuckle that turned into a cough. “No, I suppose not, considering the way things are run in town! Much better to be here, that much is certain. You have chosen well.”

I looked down at my hands. “In fact,” I said, “I have chosen only to escape from town. That is what I am seeking.”

“I see,” he said. “Is it debt, then?”

My cheeks flushed. “I know how to run my shop, thank you very much. I have troubles enough without extending credit to whose who do not deserve it, Mr. White.”

He raised a hand. “Yes, of course. I am sorry if I spoke out of turn. It’s just that I’ve found that the troubles that send my wife’s friends to me tend to be debt, children, and men. You are a widow with a daughter who is still young, as I recall.”

This made me raise my eyebrows, but Mr. White only shook his head. “Please, give me a little bit of credit. I may not go to and fro with my wife, but that does not mean that I know nothing of her friends.”

“Of course,” I told him, settling into my chair. “I do not have debts to speak of, and my daughter is quite well, thank God. But I am afraid that I am not a widow.”

“Ah,” he said. “I don’t know why it’s necessary for you to maintain that. Mrs. White and I have long felt that a woman bringing up a fatherless child deserves credit, not censure, and yet the only way she can hold her head high in our circles is if the child has the name of a dead man. Rather stupid, that.”

“You misunderstand me, Mr. White,” I said, my throat growing dry as I prepared to reveal my secret to the man. “I am not a widow, nor am I a woman with a fatherless child. In fact, I have a husband, and we were married well before my daughter came into the world.”