“I see.”

“And then my business brought me into Free’s way.” He swallowed. “And… And…”

“And she bowled you over.” There was a glint of a smile on Marshall’s face.

“Precisely. I don’t even know how it happened. One moment, I was standing there, utterly cynical about everything in the world, and the next… I was standing there, utterly cynical about everything except her. It was the most ridiculous thing.”

And yet it wasn’t ridiculous at all. He could remember every instant of their first weeks together. When she’d first told him about the Hammersmith-Choworth prizefight. When she’d knocked on the door of Stephen’s room, ushering in the charwoman, and he’d jumped for the window. When she’d looked him in the eyes and told him that he saw only the river, not the roses. It wasn’t ridiculous that he loved her; it was the most reasonable thing on the planet. He hadn’t realized that he was rifling through those first memories until Marshall gestured for him to continue.

Edward shook his head. “The only thing I knew was that if she knew the truth—if she knew everything about me—she’d never have me. So…I didn’t tell her. And…” He swallowed. “Your daughter can be a bit impulsive sometimes.” He cleared his throat. “Hypothetically, if a man returns from a long absence with a special license and a terrible reason to marry, well…” He shrugged and steeled himself for what was to come. “Mr. Marshall. I don’t know what Free would want, but for God’s sake, don’t let me off. I lied to your daughter. I married her by trickery, and she’s miserable now. It would be much easier if you could just beat me into a bloody pulp.”

Marshall shrugged. “I’m getting old. I never beat a man into a bloody pulp before breakfast anymore. It will do you some good to stew. Come on in and meet my wife.”

Edward stared at him in confusion. “Don’t you understand? I spent the night with your daughter under the color of lies.”

Marshall inhaled, shaking his head. “Have you spent any time at all talking to Free? If I pummeled a man for spending the night with her, she’d be furious with me. She would tell me that it implies that a father owns his daughter’s body, and we’ve had that fight twice already. I’m not about to repeat it.”

“But—”

Mr. Marshall made an annoyed noise. “Think of things from my point of view. I’ve only your report to go on, and by your own admission, you’re a liar. So I can hardly trust your account of the matter. You may be going through a rough patch in your marriage, but you might also make it up to her. I’m doing my damned best not to wound you permanently, because it could make Christmases awkward for many years to come. If she tosses you to the side, well.” Marshall gave him a not-quite pleasant smile. “Then I’ll have my chance.”

For just a moment, Edward felt as if his head had burst into flames. This was not how he’d envisioned this conversation proceeding. Not at all.

And that, strangely, was what made him finally feel as if he knew what he was doing, because that feeling of being utterly turned about was all too familiar.

He screwed his eyes shut. “Free gets that from you, I see.”

“Gets what?”

“That ability to set the world on its head.”

There was a long pause after that. “No,” Marshall finally said. “You should come in and meet her mother.”

“SO YOU’RE HEADING BACK to Cambridge.” Genevieve sat next to Amanda on the long sofa. Their skirts did not quite touch—Amanda had twitched hers out of the way when Genevieve sat down. But they were close enough that Amanda’s heart was pounding in a low, insistent rhythm.

“I must,” Amanda said. “Alice was running the paper all by herself yesterday, and if I’m not back by this afternoon, she’ll get no rest at all.”

“Has Free returned yet?”

Amanda considered this. She’d felt almost guilty yesterday when her sister had harangued the officers at the arrest. They’d been on the other side of the park from Free—and Maria had taken hold of Amanda’s arm with one hand, and Genevieve’s with the other. She’d pleaded fatigue, pointed out her state of being with child—and consequently, Amanda had not been dragged to the station with those closer to Free.

Amanda had used her unencumbered state to send a messenger to the station. Free had been released a scant few hours later, and so there were no worries on that end.

“Free didn’t say anything about when she was returning,” Amanda said. “But she’s newly married. I suspect she was otherwise occupied last night.”

“Married!” Genevieve’s eyes widened. “I’d heard nothing at all of that. Does her brother know yet? Does Jane?”

“It was…sudden,” Amanda explained. “Although, not precisely sudden to me. We do share a house, after all. She’s been besotted for months, smiling every time one of his letters arrived, acting as if she’d won top prize in a contest. It will be great fun teasing her when…”

It was at that point that Amanda realized something very important. Between planning for the demonstration, reconciling with her sister, and the enjoyment of spending a little time afterward with Genevieve, she’d failed to notice one thing.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, putting her head in her hands. “I was going to say, when we’re both back in Cambridge. But I just realized.”

“Oh dear.” Genevieve caught on, too, and she too grimaced. “You live with her. Will she…” She paused delicately.

“Will Free throw me out?” Amanda shook her head. “No. She wouldn’t. But I’m not sure how I feel about living with a newly married couple. Things might be a little awkward.”

More than a little, she suspected. Free had kissed Edward in public. God only knew what might happen behind a door.

“What will you do?”

“Spend more time in London. It would make sense, given what I write about.” Amanda swallowed. “But I suppose it’s just as well. It will mean seeing my sister more. And Maria says Toby wants to see me—I haven’t seen my eldest brother in ages.”

But it wasn’t the thought of Maria that had her heart pounding. She didn’t look at Genevieve, but she blushed anyway.

“You could see me more, too,” Genevieve said.