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A lice appeared undisturbed by Crispin’s disappearance, even though he’d left without taking leave.

“That is what he always does.” She raised her hand to summon the footman to the table, which was as elaborately set for three as if at a formal dinner party for twenty. “Would you take that plate away and bring Mr. Fogbotham one without the beef and gravy?”

Mr. Fogbotham sighed theatrically, set down his fork, and pushed his plate away. “So close.”

Camellia liked the old gentleman. He was heavyset with kind hazel eyes, and he seemed fondly amused when his daughter coddled him. He walked with an odd limp, favoring his right big toe, but if he was otherwise bothered by gout, he hid it well.

“I think he believes it preserves his air of mystery,” Alice continued.

“Does he have an air of mystery?”

“He thinks he does.” She laughed, her green eyes twinkling.

“Have you known him long?” Crispin had only been gone a few hours, but Camellia missed him dreadfully.

As more evidence of her infatuation , she was curious what his friends thought of him.

She knew there was a short window where she might get away with probing.

By his abrupt disappearance, he’d made himself fodder for gossip.

Alice tilted her head, considering. “Almost three years. We met when Jasper was courting Georgiana.”

“Georgiana?” She thought the countess’s name was Vanessa.

“Yes. Well, Reg won her. It all worked out for the best. Crispin was with Wellington on the peninsula then, so he was only ever home briefly. But whenever he appears, everyone adores him like a demigod.” She paused.

“That sounded more negative than I meant it to. It’s only natural that they worried about him at war, and clung to him when he was home.

” Then she laughed. “Georgiana is my cousin, did you know? So I’ve spent a lot of time with the Taverstons.

They are all exactly what they appear to be, except for Crispin.

I suppose he is as mysterious as he pretends to be.

” She cut the meat on her plate into tiny pieces.

“But you must know him better than I do. Wasn’t he visiting your brother for quite a while? ”

“A few weeks.”

“ Hmmm. Oh, thank you.” She nodded to the footman who set a new dish in front of Mr. Fogbotham, then went on as if she had not been interrupted.

“A few weeks is barely enough to scratch the surface.” She took a bite of her own beef and gravy, then frowned as she chewed and swallowed.

“Did he do anything about those pistols?”

“Those…? Oh, the pistols. No. We only went to the churchyard.”

“Now, see, that is strange. Haz says he’s like a terrier. Once he gets ahold of something, he doesn’t let go.”

Did he not?

Alice shrugged, unconcerned. “Perhaps he’ll be back. He arrives as mysteriously as he leaves.”

*

An unexpected benefit of having accompanied the viscountess to Tunbridge Wells was that Camellia was making a fascinating friend.

Alice had appropriated the study in the townhouse for her own use.

When she returned from taking her father to the baths, she spent at least two hours each evening reading several newspapers.

She also combed through every political pamphlet her father was handed in the street.

She wrote long letters to her husband, and received equally thick letters in return.

Once, Alice invited Camellia to attend a meeting of local suffragists.

By the time the speakers were finished, Camellia was completely persuaded. Women deserved the vote.

“Haz is committed to this,” Alice said, as they walked back to the townhouse. “But frankly, we are a long way off. We haven’t even swayed Jasper.” Her brow furrowed. “It’s hard to press Vanessa to push him. Wounded veterans are her cause. And she has a lot else on her mind.”

“Wounded veterans?” Oh, Neville. She had never thought of him as part of a cause, but she was glad someone did. “That’s a worthy focus.”

“Yes, but don’t you see? If women had the vote, they would push for more programs to help the downtrodden. Women have more empathy. Men count their shillings. And the men who have the most shillings count them most carefully.”

That was painting with a broad brush, but Camellia understood what Alice meant. And yet, it seemed helping wounded soldiers was a more direct route than gaining women the vote. More achievable. Even if it helped in a limited way, it was something.

“What does Vanessa—I mean Lady Iversley—what does she do?”

“She supports a boot factory. The workers are all veterans. They make high-priced boots for ladies.” Alice paused and lifted her hem to display Hessians tooled with flitting butterflies. She laughed. “It is now de rigueur for ladies of fashion to own at least three pairs.”

Camellia could not support a factory. She couldn’t even buy a pair of boots.

“What we need,” Alice said, “are more men in Parliament like Hazard. Men who know the meaning of compassion.”

“Are they so rare?” She could list a few: her father, Manfred, Mr. Diakos…she wasn’t sure she could include Crispin.

“Rare?” Alice smiled. “Compassionate men? No, I suppose not. But they are not the type of men who stand for office. That’s what makes Haz so useful.”

“Useful?”

Alice laughed. “Oh, I didn’t mean useful. I meant unique.”

*

They stayed in Tunbridge Wells for the entire month of October. Mr. Fogbotham said his gout was improved and, as much as he enjoyed being with his daughter, he was anxious to return to his home in the country before the weather turned.

Camellia was also ready to leave. Crispin hadn’t come back, and it was a daily struggle not to bring up his name. Alice was a perceptive woman. Camellia didn’t want to give herself away.

To her surprise, on the carriage ride back to London, Alice asked her if she would be interested in a position as a companion.

“I know I’d be stealing you away from Marianne, but Hazard worries about me venturing about so much when he isn’t available to accompany me.” She added with a smile, “He thinks I am out troublemaking.”

Mr. Fogbotham snorted but made no comment.

Camellia would be paid, a lowering prospect for a gentlewoman, but companion was an acceptable position for a wellborn but destitute widow.

Rather than being dependent on the Stirlings, she could earn her own way.

She didn’t think Marianne would be miffed.

Rather, she would have a vicarious thrill, thinking of Camellia living with a viscountess.

She accepted on the spot, and refused to consider the possibility that her decision had been influenced by the friendship between the viscount and Crispin.

*

Lord Haslet’s London townhome was the most subtly extraordinary residence Camellia had ever seen.

Everything in it spoke quietly of wealth.

The entrance hall was paneled in dark wood, but was nevertheless bright because of the abundance of candles.

Alice pointed out Hazard’s private library, a small room set off from a balconied walkway overlooking the high-ceilinged ground floor, a unique architectural feature.

“I don’t bother him there,” Alice said, taking Camellia upstairs. “I swear he goes in there to nap. There is a better library on the ground floor. We strategize there.”

“Strategize?”

Alice laughed. “This is a not-very-closely-guarded secret but please don’t repeat it: I write his speeches. I don’t tell him what to say. Not usually. I just tell him how best to say it.”

“Do you!” Even though she had discovered how smart Alice was, she had assumed Hazard had married her because she was so young and pretty.

Alice gestured to a wing that belonged to Hazard’s mother. “She doesn’t emerge often, but she entertains all the time. Haz adores her, and I do too. And she loves me because ‘ someone’ finally snared her son.” In response to Camellia’s bemusement, Alice said. “You’ll get used to us.”

“Where is Hazard?” He hadn’t seen his pregnant wife for a month, yet he was not there to greet her upon her return. To Camellia’s mind, that was a mark against him.

“He’s out in the country. He’ll be home next week, I expect.

” She took Camellia down a long, carpeted hallway.

“Those are Hazard’s rooms.” They walked a bit further.

“These are mine.” And further still, “And these are yours.” She opened the door to a fair-sized bedchamber.

The bed was encircled by gauzy, yellow bed curtains.

A nightstand held a pretty porcelain washbowl.

Cerulean-blue drapes were pulled back to reveal a view of the back gardens.

Alice indicated a door in the side wall.

“Your dressing room. I hope you’ll be comfortable. ”

“Good Heavens. How could I not be?”

Alice grinned. “I know. Believe me, I know. We could fit my father’s house in just one wing of this place.” The grin fell away. “And if I don’t give Haz an heir, it will all go to his cousin, a drunken, gambling, wastrel.”

“The property is entailed?” So she and Alice had something in common.

“This house is. And one of Haz’s country estates. I told Haz he should introduce a bill to outlaw entailments, but he said he cannot. It’s too self-serving. He said he’d consider it when we have a son.”

When . She had to admire their confidence. Pray God it would be rewarded.

*

As a paid companion, Camellia was much less constrained than she’d been as a simple new widow.

Over the next week, she accompanied Alice to two teas, a musicale, a lecture, and a suffragists’ meeting.

They also made a trip to the lending library and to a shop that sold ladies’ shoes.

Alice insisted on ordering a pair of Vanessa’s friends’ boots for her.

“It is practically a uniform in our circle,” Alice said, giving Camellia a twinge of discomfort.

She hoped Crispin wouldn’t be annoyed that she had wheedled her way into the Taverstons’ circle.

He’d wanted to part friends, not be thrown into her company again and again.

Upon their return from the shop, Alice retired to her chamber to rest. Camellia went to the music room to play the pianoforte. When she wearied of that, she headed to the library to find something to read. The door was open. She stepped into the doorway and stopped in her tracks.

Hazard was home. He and Alice were in the library, beside one of the large windows that let in the afternoon sun.

They were standing very close together. Hazard had his hand on Alice’s belly, and she had her two hands on his.

She was giggling. Hazard’s expression was one of wonder.

Of awe. It was a beautiful moment. And a very private one.

Then without removing his hand, Hazard bent down and gave Alice a glancing kiss on the forehead. Camellia backed quickly into the hall.

Alice had said she’d get used to them. She supposed she would. But what an odd pair. They clearly adored one another; yet if not for the obvious evidence, one might imagine them to be chaste.

*

It was late November, and London was becoming a sodden mess.

It was cold, foggy throughout the morning, and dark by early afternoon.

The streets were icy and slick, and Hazard forbade Alice from going to a meeting of the orphanage trustees because it was actively sleeting.

Nevertheless, he struck out for his club.

Camellia sat in the parlor with Alice, who was sewing a dress for her baby. Alice made neat, tiny stitches effortlessly. She hardly even seemed to be paying attention to her work. Camellia was sewing also, turning a hem on one of her chemises, while her heart ached for little Neville.

“Nobody is in London,” Alice complained. “I don’t mind missing our meeting since half the ladies have escaped to the country, but if Haz can go out—”

“He doesn’t want you to slip and fall.”

“Yes, well, I don’t want him to slip and fall either.” Alice made a face, then set down her sewing. “I hope you don’t think Haz and I are quarreling.”

“If you were, it would be none of my business.”

Alice scowled. “Well, we are,” she confessed. “Jasper has invited us all to Chaumbers, but Haz doesn’t think we should go.”

“Your confinement will be in early January?”

“Yes. Which is why I think we should go now, while I can still comfortably travel. Everyone will be there for Christmas, and I want my…my family around when the time comes.”

“And what does Hazard want?”

“He wants to wrap me in cotton wool and prevent me from moving for the next two months.”

“My dear,” Hazard said from the doorway. They both jumped. “You are exaggerating. Moreover, I think you will change your mind about Chaumbers.”

“What are you doing here?” Alice demanded.

“This is my home.”

She snorted. “You were going to Brooks’s.”

“ I changed my mind. See how easy it is?” He leaned against the doorjamb.

“Well, I won’t change mine about going to Chaumbers. Everyone will be there!”

“Ah, no.” Hazard waved a piece of paper at them. “I just received the post. No one will be at Chaumbers this Christmas.”

Alice stared. Then in a small, frightened voice, she asked, “Why not? Is something wrong?”

“It appears Crispin has finally put his Binnings cottage in order and is summoning us all there.”

Camellia was glad Alice whooped, because it drew attention away from her own gasp.

Alice asked, “Oh, Haz, please! Will you allow us to go?”

“Are you certain you feel up to it? Binnings is a three-day journey.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Camellia held her breath.

“That decides it.” He let go of the doorjamb and brushed imaginary dirt from the front of his jacket. “Crispin’s first family reunion at Binnings? I wouldn’t miss it. And I would feel a true villain if I left you behind.”

Alice hopped up and ran over to her husband. He wrapped his arms around her, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then she looked over her shoulder at Camellia. “You must come with us. Please say you will.”

Camellia’s heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread, but she managed to say calmly, “Of course. If you’d like me to, I will.”