Hester stood up. “Of course. I am most extremely sorry.”

Felicia acknowledged her words with a look but no more. There was nothing to add. All that was possible now was to excuse herself to Randolph, Peverell and Damaris, and leave.

As soon as they were in the hall Edith clasped her arm.

“Dear God, this is terrible! We have to do something!”

Hester stopped and faced her. “What? I think your mother's answer may be the best. If she has lost her mind and become violent-”

“Rubbish!” Edith exploded fiercely. “Alex is not mad. If anyone in the family killed him, it will be their daughter Sabella. She really is… very strange. After the birth of her child she threatened to take her own life. Oh-there isn't time to tell you now, but believe me there is a long story about Sabella.” She was holding Hester so hard there was little choice but to stay. “She hated Thaddeus,” Edith went on urgently. “She didn't want to marry; she wanted to become a nun, of all things. But Thaddeus would not hear of it. She hated him for making her marry, and still does. Poor Alex will have confessed to save her. We’ve got to do something to help. Can't you think of anything?”

“Well…” Hester's mind raced. “Well, I do know a private sort of policeman who works for people-but if she has confessed, she will be tried, you know. I know a brilliant lawyer. But Peverell…”

“No,” Edith said quickly. “He is a solicitor, not a barrister-he doesn't appear in court. He won't mind, I swear. He would want the best for Alex. Sometimes he appears to do whatever Mama says, but he doesn't really. He just smiles and goes his own way. Please, Hester, if there is anything you can do…?”

“I will,” Hester promised, clasping Edith's hand. “I will try!”

“Thank you. Now you must go before anyone else comes out and finds us here-please!”

“Of course. Keep heart.”

“I will-and thank you again.”

Quickly Hester turned and accepted her cloak from the waiting maid and went to the door, her mind racing, her thoughts in turmoil, and the face of Oliver Rathbone sharp in her mind.

Chapter 2

As soon as Hester returned, Major Tiplady, who had had little to do but stare out of the window, observed from her face that something distressing had happened, and since it would soon be public knowledge in the newspapers, she did not feel she was betraying any trust by telling him. He was very aware that she had experienced something extraordinary, and to keep it secret would close him out to no purpose. It would also make it far harder to explain why she wished for yet further time away from the house.

“Oh dear,” he said as soon as she told him. He sat very upright on the chaise longue. “This is quite dreadful! Do you believe that something has turned the poor woman's mind?”

“Which woman?” She tidied away his tea tray, which the maid had not yet collected, setting it on the small table to the side. “The widow or the daughter?”

“Why-” Then he realized the pertinence of the question. “I don't know. Either of them, I suppose-or even both. Poor creatures.” He looked at her anxiously. “What do you propose to do? I cannot see anything to be done, but you seem to have something in mind.”

She flashed him a quick, uncertain smile.”I am not sure.” She closed the book he had been reading and put it on the table next to him. “I can at least do my best to find her the very best lawyer-which she will be able to afford.” She tucked his shoes neatly under the chaise.

“Will her family not do that anyway?” he asked. “Oh, for heaven's sake sit down, woman! How can anyone concentrate their thoughts when you keep moving around and fussing?”

She stopped abruptly and turned to look at him.

With unusual perception he frowned at her. “You do not need to be endlessly doing something in order to justify your position. If you humor me, that will be quite sufficient. Now I require you to stand still and answer me sensibly-if you please.,”

“Her family would like her put away with as little fuss as possible,” she replied, standing in front of him with her hands folded. “It will cause the least scandal that may be achieved after a murder.”

“I imagine they would have blamed someone else if they could,” he said thoughtfully.”But she has rather spoiled that by confessing. But I still do not see what you can do, my dear.”

“I know a lawyer who can do the miraculous with causes which seem beyond hope.”

“Indeed?” He was dubious, sitting upright and looking a little uncomfortable. “And you believe he will take this case?”

“I don't know-but I shall ask him and do my best.” She stopped, a slight flush in her face. “That is-if you will permit me the time in which to see him?”

“Of course I will. But…” He looked vaguely self-conscious. “I would be obliged if you would allow me to know how it proceeds.”

She smiled dazzlingly at him.

“Naturally. We shall be in it together.”

“Indeed,” he said with surprise and increasing satisfaction. “Indeed we shall.”

Accordingly, she had no difficulty in being permitted to leave her duties once more the following day and take a hansom cab to the legal offices of Mr. Oliver Rathbone, whose acquaintance she had made at the conclusion of the Grey murder, and then resumed during the Moidore case a few months later. She had sent a letter by hand (or to be more accurate, Major Tiplady had, since he had paid the messenger), requesting that Mr. Rathbone see her on a most urgent matter, and had received an answer by return that he would be in his chambers at eleven o'clock the following day, and would see her at that hour if she wished.

Now at quarter to eleven she was traveling inside the cab with her heart racing and every jolt in the road making her gasp, trying to swallow down the nervousness rising inside her. It really was the most appalling liberty she was taking, not only on behalf of Alexandra Carlyon, whom she had never met, and who presumably had not even heard of her, but also towards Oliver Rathbone. Their relationship had been an odd one, professional in that she had twice been a witness in cases he had defended. William Monk had investigated the second one after the police force officially closed it. In both cases they had drawn Oliver Rathbone in before the conclusion.

At times the understanding between Rathbone and herself had seemed very deep, a collaboration in a cause in which they both fiercely believed. At others it had been more awkward, aware that they were a man and a woman engaged in pursuits quite outside any rules society had laid down for behavior, not lawyer and client, not employer and employee, not social friends or equals, and most certainly not a man courting a woman.

And yet their friendship was of a deeper sort than those she had shared with other men, even army surgeons in the field during the long nights in Scutari, except perhaps with Monk in the moments between their quarrels. And also there had been that one extraordinary, startling and sweet kiss, which she could still recall with a shiver of both pleasure and loneliness.

The cab was stopping and starting in the heavy traffic along High Holborn-hansoms, drays, every kind of carriage.

Please heaven Rathbone would understand this was a call most purely on business. It would be unbearable if he were to think she was pursuing him. Trying to force an acquaintance. Imagining into that moment something which they both knew he did not intend. Her face burned at the humiliation. She must be impersonal and not endeavor to exercise even the slightest undue influence, still less appear to flirt. Not that that would be difficult; she would have no idea how to flirt if her life depended upon it. Her sister-in-law had told her that countless times. If only she could be like Imogen and appeal with sweet helplessness to people, simply by her manner, so men instinctively would desire to help her. It was very nice to be efficient, but it could also be a disadvantage to be obviously so. It was also not especially attractive- either to men or to women. Men thought it unbecoming, and women found it vaguely insulting to them.