he’d barely begun the following morning when their houseguest appeared. She paused in the doorway as if startled. “Good morning…” he began, and stopped. This name business was awkward. He couldn’t use her first name. But he’d been forbidden to call her Mrs. Wylde, which admittedly felt strange on the tongue. Perhaps she felt the same; she murmured something unintelligible, eyes on her feet. “I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Why was she hovering half out of the room? “The tea is still hot, I believe. If you would care to ring for a fresh…”
“No, no.”
She practically scuttled into the breakfast room, quickly helped herself from the dishes on the sideboard, and slipped into the chair farthest from him. Alec wondered if something had frightened her in the night.
“Please continue with your newspaper,” she said. The teapot wavered a little in her hand. “I did not mean to interrupt.”
It finally occurred to him that his Uncle Henry had been a bear at the breakfast table. He couldn’t imagine anything more likely. She wasn’t accusing him of a wish to be rude. He watched her add milk to her tea. This girl’s association with his irascible relative still seemed like a wild tale that couldn’t be true. Alec ate a bit of ham, spread butter on a piece of toast. When he judged that she’d had time to settle, he said, “I understand you know of a possible remedy for Anne’s cough?”
Again, she started. “How did you…?”
“Lizzy told her maid Susan, who mentioned it to the housekeeper, who immediately informed me. If you wish to keep secrets, do not tell my little sister.”
“It wasn’t a…”
“Of course.” Was there no way to put this girl at ease? “The remedy?”
“It is an herbal mixture. A doctor in Bath recommended it when my father was visiting there, and we ordered it at once. It was very helpful to him.”
“In curing his cough?” She nodded. “Tell me the name, and I will send out for a supply.”
Finally, she smiled a little. “Anne said you would have London ransacked for it.”
“Of course.” Now she looked startled again, and he couldn’t fathom why. It seemed she was odd. Of course, she would have to be, to have married Henry Wylde.
Silence fell over the table. Alec missed Anne more than ever. Even when they didn’t talk, their morning silences were companionable, not stiff and empty like this one. He examined Charlotte Wylde. She hunched over her plate, head down, eyes on her breakfast. She wore a shapeless black thing that he thought he’d seen before. Her coppery hair was pulled up too tight. She was pale, the very definition of subdued.
Alec was suddenly reminded of a thoroughbred he’d come across in a neighbor’s stable, a roan with exquisite lines and a lovely delicacy of movement. The minute they approached, the mare had shied and cowered, backing as far away from them as she could and shivering at any touch. It was obvious she’d been mistreated, even ruined. Alec had bought her on the spot, paying the man’s exorbitant price because he could barely speak through his fury. It had taken long patient months to convince that mare that her high spirits were permissible, even welcome, and his opinion of that particular neighbor was forever changed.
Alec caught himself. He was being ridiculous—probably offensive—comparing the girl to a horse. She looked up, caught him watching her, and dropped her eyes. Her cheeks reddened, and he felt his do the same as he looked away.
“What is going on at my house?” she blurted out, as if she must say something, however random.
Alec found he had to clear his throat. “As planned, I have two stout men stationed there. They will take it in turn to watch for intruders. Wycliffe is making a report to the authorities, at this moment, probably.”
“But you can’t just leave these men there forever. Where am I to…?”
“Exactly. That is why I think it best that we engage an investigator. You have heard of the Bow Street Runners?”
“No.”
“It is an organization that hunts down criminals, with a good record of success.”
“Engage…?” She frowned. “For pay?” When he nodded, she added, “Are they very expensive?”
“They are well worth the money, I understand.”
“But where is it to come from?”
“This is certainly a proper use of my uncle’s estate…”
“Further reducing what I am left with. I should have some say in the decision.”
“There is no reasonable alternative.” Her head was up now; back straight, her eyes glittered with emotion. It