“Almost two years, now, I guess it is. It’s very different from the country, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Does your family like the city or do they prefer living in Westchester?”

“I… I don’t have any family,” Dudley said, a little disconcerted.

“You’re not married, then?” Potter said in apparent surprise. “What about your parents? Do they come down to the city to visit you?”

“I… No, I…”

“Mr. Dudley’s parents are dead,” Letitia quickly explained.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Potter said, still addressing Dudley. “No wonder you were so sensitive to Letitia’s grief. You were very kind to visit her. Were you acquainted with Dr. Blackwell at all?”

“No, I… We never met.” It was apparent that Dudley was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the endless questions. Sarah wasn’t sure what Potter was trying to determine, but perhaps he wasn’t either. Maybe he just wanted to find out whatever he could in an effort to identify some weakness in the man whom he instinctively recognized as a rival for Letitia’s hand.

“It’s a pity you never met Dr. Blackwell,” Potter was saying. “He was very gifted. Letitia wouldn’t be sitting here with us if he hadn’t helped her after her terrible accident. Isn’t that right, Letitia?”

“I… Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. She was also uncomfortable. Sarah imagined that talking about your dead husband in front of the lover with whom you had betrayed him might be difficult. Add to this that Dudley had been involved in her accident, and she must be wishing the floor would open and swallow her up.

“We’ll always be grateful for what he did to cure Letitia,” Dudley said in an effort to be agreeable.

But Potter didn’t miss the fact that Dudley had used her given name. He didn’t like it, either. “Apparently someone wasn’t grateful for something he did, or Edmund would still be alive,” he noted.

“Do we have to speak of Edmund’s death?” Letitia protested weakly.

“Does it upset you?” Potter asked in apparent concern.

“It was so… so unpleasant,” Letitia said.

“Murder is always unpleasant,” Sarah offered, and everyone looked at her in surprise. They had apparently forgotten she was there.

“But this one was particularly so,” Potter said with an odd disregard for Letitia’s sensibilities. “It must have been horrible for you, finding him that way.”

Letitia had the grace to look pale, but perhaps she was just remembering all the blood. Heaven knew, she probably hadn’t shed many tears over her husband’s demise. “I shall never be able to get that image out of my head,” she said faintly.

Instinctively, both men leaned forward to comfort her. Fearing they might collide, Sarah quickly spoke up. “Mr. Granger is quite upset that he didn’t get home first to spare you that shock.”

The men both caught themselves before actually touching Letitia, but Sarah wasn’t sure if this was because of their own good sense or if her interruption had jolted them back to propriety.

Potter looked at her in confusion, probably having once again forgotten she was there. “Who is Mr. Granger?”

“The butler,” Sarah said, smiling innocently. “He takes his responsibilities very seriously, and he’s usually home before Mrs. Blackwell on Wednesdays. But he said she came home earlier than usual that day, which is why she was the one to, uh, to find Dr. Blackwell. He’s actually made himself sick worrying over it.”

“I didn’t feel well that afternoon,” Letitia remembered. “That’s why I came home earlier than usual.”

She glanced at Dudley, who was red again. Neither of them wished to discuss Letitia’s activities of that afternoon, especially in front of Potter. Sarah wondered if there was a particular reason, other than the obvious one of Letitia’s infidelity.

Why had Letitia come home early that day? Had the lovers quarreled? But if Dudley wasn’t there-if he was off murdering Blackwell-they couldn’t have. Perhaps they’d quarreled afterward, or even before. Or perhaps Letitia had grown too anxious waiting for Dudley to complete his task and had misjudged the time. Curiosity could have drawn her into the study even if she’d known her husband lay dead in there. She would have no idea how horrible the scene would be. She’d probably imagined Blackwell neatly laid out, in dignity and repose, like a corpse in a coffin.

Fortunately, the baby started fussing again, bringing an end to her fancies. Malloy would certainly find some flaw with her scenario, but Sarah thought it merited consideration, at least. She still liked the theory of the desperate lovers disposing of an unwanted husband, and neither of them had a dependable alibi for the afternoon of the murder. Besides, she liked them less and less each time she saw them, she decided as she tried to soothe the fretful child.

Letitia looked askance at the baby. “I should send for the nurse,” she said. “He shouldn’t be here anyway.”

She was right, of course. No lady of her station would have brought her infant into the front parlor when she had a visitor. Unless, of course, her visitor was the baby’s father and she’d wanted him to see the child.

“He’s a… a handsome boy,” Potter said without much conviction. “What are you going to call him?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said with another glance at Dudley.

Potter frowned in disapproval. “You must name him after his father. Surely there is no other logical thing to do under the circumstances.”

This time Letitia colored, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “I may do that,” she said.

Dudley made a small sound, probably of surprise, and Potter’s mouth thinned to a bloodless line.

Sarah was enjoying this thoroughly, but the baby was beginning to root, his hungry mouth searching her bodice in vain for sustenance. Although Letitia had said she should call for the nurse, she had made no move to do so. Sarah gathered the child up and carried him over to where the bell rope hung and managed to pull it to summon a maid. Letitia didn’t even seem to notice.

Potter was still glaring at Letitia. “We must put an announcement in the papers about the birth,” he said. “Edmund’s clients will want to… to acknowledge the child.” Trust Potter to be thinking about the practical aspects of the situation. Considering the condition of Blackwell’s estate, a few monetary gifts would be well received.

“I don’t want any of them to know. I don’t need anything from those people,” Letitia insisted.

“But they’ll want to send gifts,” Potter insisted. He sounded almost desperate. Sarah began to wonder if he needed the money even more than Letitia did. At least she had her father to fall back on. Sarah was sure Potter had no wealthy relatives in his family tree.

“I don’t care if they do or not,” Letitia said petulantly. “I don’t want anything from those people. I had to let them gawk at me before, but I don’t have to even see them now if I don’t want to, and I don’t want to.”

“I’ve never known you to be so unreasonable, Letitia,” Potter chided her. “It isn’t very becoming.”

She gaped at him. “And I’ve never known you to be so imperious, Amos. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?”

“I’m only looking out for your best interests,” he defended himself. “Someone must. Edmund left things in a terrible state.”

“That doesn’t give you any reason to be rude to me,” Letitia reminded him. “I’m not responsible for what Edmund did or didn’t do.”

Potter was instantly contrite, probably because there was no advantage to being anything else. “I didn’t intend… You have mistaken my meaning, Letitia. It’s just that I’m so concerned for you…”

“If you were truly concerned, you would be a great deal kinder to me, Amos. I have been through a very difficult time, and my health is still precarious.” She emphasized this by dabbing her nose with the handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.