couldn't ask if he was Felicity's lover. The unworldly Diana would have no understanding of that kind of relationship, nor would she ever ask such an impertinent question.
Felicity's face flamed, and the question was understood even though Meg had stopped herself from speaking it out loud.
"He is just an old friend." Her expression said clearly to stay away.
"I understand," murmured Meg. Of course she would stay away from him. She planned to keep her distance from any man she couldn't bring up to scratch.
Shouts outside the carriage had both women looking out the window, and Charles jostling them, trying to see, too.
"What is it?" whispered Meg.
The shouts and the running men, one with a grappling hook and another with a length of netting, made the cause of the commotion all too clear.
"Oh, my God, they have found a body in the Thames," said Felicity.
Meg clamped a hand over her mouth, tasting bile as the skin of her face went cold and clammy under her palm.
"Mama, I think Cousin Diana is going to lose her breakfast," said Charles.
Chapter Seven
Bedford stared at the closed door. Nervous sweat trickled down his back. He wanted nothing to do with visiting the remaining Lungrens. He was the last person on earth who should have been charged with this responsibility—who should be charged with any responsibility, for that matter. Yet he couldn't ignore it.
He'd tried, but Lungren's shade was disturbing his peace. Not that he actually believed he was being haunted by his former friend and gambling buddy, but too many times last night he'd woken up in a cold sweat for no reason at all. "Hell, man, if you were looking for someone to avenge you, you should have gone directly to your major."
As he was speaking out loud to a ghost that wasn't there, the door swung open and a maid looked at him as if he might be dicked in the nob. To tell the truth, she might be right. "I'm here to see the Misses Lungren."
"Yer name, sir?"
"William Bedford." William fumbled for his card case and finally retrieved a calling card. He didn't recognize the maid. He'd only been here a couple of times, and usually late in the evening.
"I'll see if they're at home," she said and closed the door in his face.
William looked down at his blue coat. Was if so threadbare that it looked secondhand? Should he have his landlady turn the cuffs and give a newer look to the sleeves? Maybe he'd do better to commence a flirtation with a seamstress working in one of the Bond Street shops. Perhaps he could get the work for free.
Maybe it was the sorry horse he'd ridden that prompted the maid to leave him standing outside. A man was in dire straits when he couldn't even hire decent horseflesh. He turned to retrieve the tethered nag and go back to town when the door swung open.
"They will see you in the drawing room. They are having tea with the other callers." The maid stepped back inside, closing the door and scurrying away.
William stepped into the darkened interior and waited for his eyes to adjust. Should he guess his way to the drawing room? In previous visits he'd almost always been shown directly to the library. Perhaps he should smell his way. He sniffed. His nose wasn't good enough.
"This way, sir." Impatience colored the maid's voice. She stood halfway down a passageway, next to the sagging stairs that dominated the entryway.
He gave her a long look and a slow smile. Obviously he needed to practice charming women. Especially since it looked more and more like he would need to marry a woman of means, most likely a horse-faced heiress since his breeding wasn't good enough to recommend him to a pretty one.
But the maid only rolled her eyes as she opened the door for him.
Inside the room, Major Sheridan and Lieutenant Randleton sat stiffly with mismatched cups of tea in their hands. The three Lungren sisters stared at him with varying degrees of animosity.
William managed to stammer out his condolences, which had the younger
Felicity's face flamed, and the question was understood even though Meg had stopped herself from speaking it out loud.
"He is just an old friend." Her expression said clearly to stay away.
"I understand," murmured Meg. Of course she would stay away from him. She planned to keep her distance from any man she couldn't bring up to scratch.
Shouts outside the carriage had both women looking out the window, and Charles jostling them, trying to see, too.
"What is it?" whispered Meg.
The shouts and the running men, one with a grappling hook and another with a length of netting, made the cause of the commotion all too clear.
"Oh, my God, they have found a body in the Thames," said Felicity.
Meg clamped a hand over her mouth, tasting bile as the skin of her face went cold and clammy under her palm.
"Mama, I think Cousin Diana is going to lose her breakfast," said Charles.
Chapter Seven
Bedford stared at the closed door. Nervous sweat trickled down his back. He wanted nothing to do with visiting the remaining Lungrens. He was the last person on earth who should have been charged with this responsibility—who should be charged with any responsibility, for that matter. Yet he couldn't ignore it.
He'd tried, but Lungren's shade was disturbing his peace. Not that he actually believed he was being haunted by his former friend and gambling buddy, but too many times last night he'd woken up in a cold sweat for no reason at all. "Hell, man, if you were looking for someone to avenge you, you should have gone directly to your major."
As he was speaking out loud to a ghost that wasn't there, the door swung open and a maid looked at him as if he might be dicked in the nob. To tell the truth, she might be right. "I'm here to see the Misses Lungren."
"Yer name, sir?"
"William Bedford." William fumbled for his card case and finally retrieved a calling card. He didn't recognize the maid. He'd only been here a couple of times, and usually late in the evening.
"I'll see if they're at home," she said and closed the door in his face.
William looked down at his blue coat. Was if so threadbare that it looked secondhand? Should he have his landlady turn the cuffs and give a newer look to the sleeves? Maybe he'd do better to commence a flirtation with a seamstress working in one of the Bond Street shops. Perhaps he could get the work for free.
Maybe it was the sorry horse he'd ridden that prompted the maid to leave him standing outside. A man was in dire straits when he couldn't even hire decent horseflesh. He turned to retrieve the tethered nag and go back to town when the door swung open.
"They will see you in the drawing room. They are having tea with the other callers." The maid stepped back inside, closing the door and scurrying away.
William stepped into the darkened interior and waited for his eyes to adjust. Should he guess his way to the drawing room? In previous visits he'd almost always been shown directly to the library. Perhaps he should smell his way. He sniffed. His nose wasn't good enough.
"This way, sir." Impatience colored the maid's voice. She stood halfway down a passageway, next to the sagging stairs that dominated the entryway.
He gave her a long look and a slow smile. Obviously he needed to practice charming women. Especially since it looked more and more like he would need to marry a woman of means, most likely a horse-faced heiress since his breeding wasn't good enough to recommend him to a pretty one.
But the maid only rolled her eyes as she opened the door for him.
Inside the room, Major Sheridan and Lieutenant Randleton sat stiffly with mismatched cups of tea in their hands. The three Lungren sisters stared at him with varying degrees of animosity.
William managed to stammer out his condolences, which had the younger
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