“Where have you been?”

Scarlett paused in the middle of stepping out of her riding habit as Felicity burst into her dressing room without so much as a knock. She looked disheveled, her usually tidy coiffure askew and her skirt wrinkled as if she’d been gathering it in her fists.

“I was out for my morning ride. What’s wrong with your hair?”

Felicity tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I – I must speak with you in private,” she said with a furtive glance at Ruth. The maid was waiting beside the vanity table for Scarlett to finish undressing so she could help her into a dark blue muslin gown that was impossible to button without assistance. “It is very important.”

“I will be downstairs if you need me, my lady.” Carefully laying the dress down on a chaise lounge so as not to wrinkle it, Ruth hurried out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

“That was quite rude.” Scarlett turned towards Felicity with a frown. “Ruth is my closest confidant. Anything you have to say in front of me you can say in front of her.” 

A grimace flitted across Felicity’s already distressed countenance and Scarlett immediately felt a twinge of guilt at her thoughtless choice of words. Not so long ago it was Felicity who had been her closest confidant. She really needed to work on thinking before she spoke.

“Not to say I cannot confide in you as well,” she amended hastily. “Because I can and I have and – oh bollocks.” Waving her hand in the air she fell back onto a feather stuffed sofa and propped her feet up on a square leather ottoman. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I suppose I do. Do you mind if I…” Felicity gestured at an empty chair.

“Of course,” Scarlett said even as she bit back the urge to grind her teeth. If this awkward formality between them ended tomorrow it would not be soon enough. “Sit wherever you like.”

“Thank you.” Sinking gracefully into the high backed chair, Felicity neatly arranged her skirts so they folded to one side before she lifted her head. “Have you – good heavens!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening with alarm as she got her first good look at Scarlett since rushing into her dressing room. “Never mind my hair, what happened to yours?”

“Oh, that.” Scarlett’s hand drifted to the nape of her neck where her bedraggled curls hung in a limp knot. “I fell off Fancy.”

“You fell? Are you all right? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Yes, yes, and no.” As she had with Owen, she waved off Felicity’s concerns with an impatient flutter of her hand. “I suffered a bump to the head and my hands are a bit scraped up. I can assure you that it looks worse than it is.”

“Are you certain? Because–”

“I am fine,” she said firmly. “Honestly. Now what were you about to ask me?”

Felicity still did not look very convinced, but she let the matter drop. “Very well. Have you – have you happened to look in your jewelry box since you returned?”

Scarlett’s brow creased. What a terribly odd question for Felicity to ask. And why did she suddenly look so nervous? “My jewelry box? No, I haven’t. I never wear jewelry when I ride. Why would you… Oh,” she said as understanding dawned. “Did one of the children take something? Because if they did there is no harm done. Truly. I know how they can be.”

Felicity spine stiffened. “And how is that, precisely?”

“Well they’re not exactly meek little things, are they?” she said with a light laugh that Felicity did not return.

“I had no idea you found my children so burdensome.”

“That isn’t what I said at all!” Scarlett protested. “You know I am very fond of Henry and Anne.” Even though they have been running amok since they got here.

The little devils had gotten into everything. The curiosity cabinet in the library. Rodger’s study. The cupboard filled with sweets in the kitchen. Why, two days ago one of the footmen had carried Henry into the house soaking wet and naked as the day he was born! He’d caught him swimming in the pond, trying to catch one of the ducks. It was a miracle Henry had not caught a cold instead.

“The children would never enter your bedchamber without asking,” Felicity said, “let alone open your jewelry box.”

“Then why ask about it?”

“Because shortly after you left this morning for your ride, I came in here to borrow a pot of ink and I saw a man going through your dresser.”

“There was a man going through my dresser? Who?” Scarlett demanded. “Who was he?”

“I had never seen him before. He – he said his name was Felix.” A dull blush fanned upwards from her chest and flooded Felicity’s cheeks. “He went through your jewelry box and took a comb, and a necklace, and a–”

Scarlett did not wait for her to finish. Springing up off the sofa she dashed into her bedchamber. When she saw the lid to her jewelry box was open and her precious jewelry was scattered all about she stopped short, her gaze darting around the room as if she might catch a glimpse of the thief still lurking in a corner. But of course he was long gone, the only evidence of his ever being there at all in the glittering necklaces and bracelets and earrings thrown carelessly about. She whirled around. Through the large archway separating the two room she could see Felicity had slumped forward in her chair, a rather dazed look on her face. A trickle of alarm raced down her spine. 

“Were you hurt? Did he hurt you? Felicity! Answer me.”

“What? No, no.” Blinking, Felicity sat back up. “Felix did not hurt me. He – he kissed me,” she admitted, her blush intensifying.

“The thief kissed you?” And here Scarlett thought her morning had been the more exciting one!

“Yes, although I do not believe he was a thief. Not the regular sort, anyways.”

Scarlett blinked. “He broke into my bedchamber and stole my jewelry. I believe that is the very definition. Kiss or no kiss, the man is a thief. Was he at least handsome?”

Her gaze dropping to her lap, Felicity’s mouth curved in a shy smile. “Exceedingly so.”

“Did you see him take anything else?”

“An earring.” She looked up. “The sapphire one you wore at your wedding. With the tiny diamonds. He seemed very interested in it. He wanted to know for certain if it was yours, and when was the last time you’d worn it.”

Scarlett’s brow creased. “What a terribly odd thing for him to ask.”

“That is what I thought as well.” Suddenly unable to look her in the eye, Felicity glanced down and began to fidget with a pleat on her skirt. “I accidentally overhead you and Captain Steel arguing in the parlor yesterday. I know… I know what he is accusing you of and I suspect… well, I suspect that Felix was sent here to look for evidence.”

 “That son of a bitch,” she hissed under her breath.

“Felix?” Felicity said, startled.

“No. Owen.” So that was why he’d met her on the road this morning. It had not been a coincidence at all, but a clever plan to keep her busy while his – his thug went through her things! No wonder he’d looked so surprised when she mentioned Felicity was staying with her. He’d thought no one would be in the house except for the servants.

Grinding her teeth, Scarlett began to pace back and forth along the narrow runner between her bedchamber and dressing room. “What the devil did he think Felix would find? A letter admitting my guilt? Honestly!” She threw her hands up in the air. “There is no proof that Rodger was even murdered, let alone that I did it! Owen is doing this to get back at me for what I did to him all those years ago. I know it.”

Had everything from this morning been a lie?

The heated glances.

The searing kiss.

The fiery passion.

No.

She refused to believe it. Maybe some things had been feigned (which she should have known the second he called her Lettie) but not everything.

The kiss had been real.

She was willing to stake her life on it.

Which I may end up doing if I am charged with murder.

Uncertainty sat like a heavy boulder in her stomach. Until this moment she hadn’t really thought Owen was serious with his accusations. An excuse to get close to her, nothing more. But now she wasn’t so sure.

While women were rarely brought before the House of Lords, it was not unheard of. Why, just last year Lady Hamburg had been accused of treason against the crown. She was eventually found innocent of any wrongdoing, but not before her reputation had been completely torn asunder and she’d been forced to flee England. To this day no one knew what had happened to her, or where she had ended up.

“Do you think I did it?” Scarlett asked in a small, tentative voice, her anger draining away as she imagined herself standing in a room filled with stern-faced men in powdered white wigs. “Do you think I killed him?”

“Do I think you killed Rodger?” In an instant Felicity was out of her chair and across the room. Without asking she brought her arms around Scarlett and drew her close. “Of course not,” she murmured. “That is ridiculous. And if Owen were not blinded by the past, he would think it was ridiculous as well.”

“Maybe I deserve this. For what I did to him.”

“No. No one ever deserves to be wrongly accused of anything.” She began to stroke Scarlett’s back; a mother comforting her distraught child. “I will not lie and say what you did to Owen was right, because it wasn’t. But you are not the same person you were. Even I can see that.”

Had she changed for the better? Sometimes she felt as if she had; other times she wasn’t so certain.

“Owen kissed me this morning.”

Felicity’s hand stilled. “Owen kissed you? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Things between us have been… different. I did not know if you would care to hear about it.”

“Do not be ridiculous!” Gripping Scarlett’s shoulders, Felicity gave her the tiniest of shakes. “I know things between us have been strained, but you are still my dearest friend in the entire world. Of course I would want to know if Owen kissed you.”

Scarlett felt her bottom lip tremble. “Even after the horrible way I treated you?” she whispered.

“Even after that,” Felicity said firmly. “Now tell me everything. When did it happen? This morning?”  

“Yes, on my ride. We were together when I fell and he… well, he saved my life.” There was really no other way to put it. “Fancy spooked and my foot caught in the stirrup. Owen freed me and whisked me away to safety. Then he kissed me.” Her cheeks heated. “Quite thoroughly.” 

“How romantic,” Felicity sighed.

“Yes, if you leave off the part where he thinks I murdered my husband.”

“Well nothing’s perfect.” She studied Scarlett’s face. “How was it? The kiss, I mean.”

Now it was Scarlett’s turn to sigh. “Just like it was before, but even better. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” Felicity took her hands and squeezed tight “There, you see? Everything will turn out all right.”

As she gazed upon her friend’s earnest expression, Scarlett felt the years between them melt away until they were as they had always been: sisters in every way except for blood.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that. I… I still love him, you know. Part of me always has.”

“I know,” Felicity said simply. “I know.”

 

Scarlett’s mother came to call the following afternoon. She marched into the house and made herself at home in the parlor without an invitation. Not because she was trying to be rude, but because it never crossed her mind that she would ever need to be invited into her daughter’s home.

The years – and the expensive creams she still slathered on her face day and night – had been very kind to Lady Edgecombe. Her hair may have held a few more traces of silver and fine lines were beginning to creep along the edges of her mouth and eyes, but to look at her one would never guess she was closer to sixty than she was to forty. As befitted a family member in mourning she wore all black, from the lace cap on top of her impeccably styled curls to the satin shoes peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” Scarlett said by way of greeting as she stepped into the parlor and saw that her mother had already had one of the maids bring her a cup of tea and a platter of cucumber sandwiches.

“I came to see you, of course. Have a seat, darling.” Gesturing to the empty chair with an elegant sweep of her hand as if she were inviting Scarlett into her parlor instead of the other way around, Lady Edgecombe took a tiny bite of a sandwich before delicately dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a silk napkin. “How are you sleeping? You look dreadful. Of course that is only to be expected given the gravity of your terrible loss. Still, you might do something about your hair.”

Scarlett sat directly across from her mother and shoved an entire cucumber sandwich into her mouth to stop herself from saying something she really ought not to. She knew her mother did not mean to be insulting, but that did not make her thinly veiled criticisms any easier to bear.

“Thank you for checking up on me,” she said in a tone that miraculously bordered on the civil. Her relationship with her parents – and her mother in particular – had been strained for as long as she could remember. While they were always unfailingly cordial to one another, that was where their affection ended. Scarlett knew she was a disappointment to them for not marrying higher up on the social ladder, and she resented them for raising her more like a prized show pony than a daughter.

“Think nothing of it.” Lady Edgecombe gave another flick of her hand. “I have been worried about you darling, out here in the countryside all by yourself. Aren’t you terribly lonely?”

Scarlett shook her head. “After so much time spent in London I have found the solitude and the quiet to be just what I needed. Although I am not completely alone. Felicity is staying with me.”

Lady Edgecombe’s gaze sharpened. “Lady Ashburn is staying here? But… but she’s divorced.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as if she were uttering a terrible curse word.

“Yes, I know. That is why I have invited her and her children to remain here for as long as they need.” Seeing her mother’s resulting expression, Scarlett struggled not to roll her eyes. “Felicity wasn’t the one who wanted the divorce, Mother. Her husband initiated everything. It was his decision.”

“Still…” She made a tsking sound. “One does not leave their husband, no matter the reason.”

“I don’t believe Felicity had much choice in the matter.”

“We always have a choice, darling.”

Before she said something she regretted, Scarlett abruptly changed the subject. “How is Father? And Aunt Muriel? Is her leg still paining her?”

“Your father is fine. Aunt Muriel is fine. Everyone is fine. The house is nearly packed and we’ll be leaving for Hampshire at the end of the month.” Her parent’s country estate was – thankfully – a two days ride to the east; three if by carriage. While the distance did not eliminate unexpected visits completely, it certainly limited them. Yet another reason why Scarlett preferred living in the country.

“If you’re leaving for Hampshire at the end of the month, what are you doing here?”

“Why, I wanted to come see my daughter.” Lady Edgecombe arched a lofty brow. “Do I need a reason other than that? I will only be staying for a few days.”

Scarlett blanched. With everything else going on, the last thing she needed was her mother as a houseguest! “A few days? But–”

“Everyone has been asking about you,” she interrupted smoothly. “They wanted me to give you their prayers and condolences. I told them you are still recovering from the shock of it all. Nothing can be done this Season, of course, but by the next I expect you to be the absolute talk of the town.” Spooning a lump of sugar into her tea, she paused to stir it precisely four and a half turns before raising it to her mouth and taking a sip. “There will be younger girls, there always are, but none with your beauty or grace. Word has it the Duke of Tinsley will be back on the market. If you’ll remember his wife died in childbirth a few months ago. Poor thing. She never was in very good health. He’s an avid outdoorsmen, you know. I think you two would make a splendid match. And you’ll both be coming out of mourning at the same time!”

“Mother, stop it.” Scarlett stared at her in disbelief. “Rodger is barely two months in the grave and you are already picking out my next husband? That is absurd.”

“What?” Lady Edgecombe blinked innocently and set her cup down with nary a clatter. “I am only looking after your best interests, dear. Yes, it is very sad Rodger passed away, but just think of what a second chance this will be for you! Rodger was all well and good, but he was only a viscount. This time around your aim should be much higher.”

“Rodger was never ‘well and good’, Mother. Surely you know that.”

Lady Edgecombe frowned. “I suspected you had your issues–”

“Issues,” Scarlett muttered under her breath. “That is one way to put it.”

“–but every couple does. Why, look at me and your father. We have had our ups and downs but we’ve made it work. Had Rodger lived I am confident you would have done the same.”

“Rodger was a brute and a bully and I wish I had never married him.” Scarlett’s breath exhaled in a loud whoosh as she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. After keeping the truth buried inside for so long, it was refreshing to be able to say it out loud. To give a voice to the feelings she’d kept hidden behind calculated smiles and carefully timed laughs. To admit that even though it had gleamed on the outside like a silver shilling, her marriage had not been perfect and she had not been happy.

“Careful, darling.” Although Lady Edgecombe’s tone was pleasant, her smile was as sharp as the edge of a knife. “It does no one any good to speak ill of the dead. Particularly when the dead have been murdered.” 

The weight that had just lifted off Scarlett’s shoulders returned tenfold. So great was her shock that had she been holding a cup of tea it surely would have shattered on the ground. “What – what are you talking about?”

“That is very good.” Her mother nodded approvingly. “If anyone asks, that is precisely how you should respond. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You did not think it would stay a secret forever, did you?”

“I…” Scarlett’s throat locked up. For once, she was at a complete loss of words.

“It is only conjecture and gossip at this point, of course. But still, people are beginning to whisper.” Lady Edgecombe’s mouth thinned. “You know how I detest whispering.”

“What – what are they saying?” At least now she knew the real reason her mother was here.

“There is a rumor that Bow Street is looking into Rodger’s death. Which of course they would not be doing unless foul play was involved. Murder.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine? Who in heaven’s name would want Rodger dead? It’s absolutely ludicrous if you ask me, but then most gossip is. Still, I thought it would be best if I forewarned you. Not that anyone would dare bring it up in your presence given that you are his grieving widow.” She enunciated the word ‘grieving’ with a deliberate glance down at Scarlett’s dark blue dress. “Honestly darling, you really should be wearing black. And where is your veil? It showed off your cheek bones to perfection.”

Were the situation not so dire Scarlett would have laughed. Trust her mother to be more concerned with her cheekbones than a murder.

“I must have lost it,” she murmured absently as her mind raced. So Owen had not yet condemned her publicly... but if he thought he’d found the evidence he needed it would only be a matter of time. She needed to convince him of her innocence and she needed to do it quickly, for the only thing worse than a trial before the House of Lords would be a trial before her peers. She could just see it now, splashed over the front page of every gossip column in London:

‘GRIEVING WIDOW OR COLD-BLOODED MURDERER?’

‘THE SOCIALITE KILLER’

‘LADY MURDERESS’

Admittedly, the last title did have a bit of a ring to it.

“Mother, I have to go.” She stood up.

“Go? But I’ve only just arrived. I thought we would have tea and then go through your ward–”

“Tomorrow,” she interrupted. “We can do all of that bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Lady Edgecombe’s mouth pinched. “Not too early. You know morning sunlight is not good for my complexion.”

“Yes, I know. Ruth will escort you to your room and help you unpack.” Walking to the door, she gave the bell rope a light tug. “If there is anything else you need you have only to ask her. I will be back in time for dinner.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see an old friend.”