Throughout the trip, Mr. Frazier had taken his guard duties seriously, but the farther away from Bayard Court they travelled, the more relaxed Charlotte became. It was unlikely that Anne would somehow discover their whereabouts. If it wasn’t for the baby, Charlotte would feel craven for leaving Bay behind. She missed him fiercely, especially when confronted with the two cooing lovebirds opposite.

She had almost-almost-told him what she suspected when they parted. But she had been so very desperate to leave. She’d been irrational, really, now that there was distance in both miles and days to reflect. If Bay resolved the Anne entanglement quickly as he promised, he would know soon enough.

The carriage rumbled over the last bridge and into the village proper. Charlotte felt a sense of peace as she viewed the familiar stone buildings, their flower boxes overflowing, their front steps swept spotless. Bay’s driver knew just where to go from his last visit, when he brought his horticulturally challenged master on his “garden tour.” But the carriage stopped short on the lane.

“Bother. This is Mr. Trumbull’s house. Mr. Frazier, could you hop out and tell John to go down to the end?”

Frazier did as requested, but was back in seconds. “There’s a cart blocking the road, Miss Fallon. Piled high with furniture and boxes it is. Have ye been evicted?”

“Certainly not! I own my cottage free and clear.” It couldn’t be thieves, could it, taking advantage of her absence to empty out her home? “Kitty, you stay here.” Charlotte stepped down from the coach, grateful that Angus Frazier would be at her side to confront whoever was stealing her possessions. Not that she had anything of value, except for her broken jar of money and Deb’s things.

Deb! Her sister came flying out the open door, covered in one of Charlotte’s own aprons, and, remarkably, one of Charlotte’s caps affixed to her glossy dark hair.

“There you are! Do you know I’ve been worried sick? I wrote letter after letter. When I didn’t hear from you, I persuaded Arthur to let me come down to see what was wrong. And then that old man next door told me you were visiting me, which you most assuredly were not, because why would I be looking for you if you were with me in Kent? Careful with that!” she interrupted herself, speaking to a pair of men balancing a mirror between them. “That really should be wrapped in a blanket. I say, Charlie, you wouldn’t have a spare one I could borrow? I should hate to have seven years of bad luck, just when my luck has turned. Charlie, I’m the happiest woman in the world. You’ll never guess! The most amazing thing! I’m going to have a baby! And Arthur’s home is delightful, but it will be ever so much better with my lovely things in it. His uncle didn’t have much taste, I’m afraid.” Just then Arthur came out the door clutching the hideous stuffed parrot. “No, not that, darling. I’ve changed my mind. Charlie, I want you to keep this. As a token of my affection. Now where have you been, you sly puss? And with whom?” She cast a somewhat disparaging eye on Angus Frazier, who stared right back at her, his mouth hanging open.

Charlotte was quite sure she gave off a similar sense of shock. While Mr. Frazier was probably surprised at her resemblance to her sister, Charlotte was stunned to see Deborah in domestic garb, chattering like a magpie, and pleased to be pregnant. Not only had luck turned, but the world had turned and was tilting on its axis. Charlotte thought any minute now she’d drop off and be tossed off into the firmament.

Deb pulled her close in a hug, temporarily tethering her to earth, and whispered in her ear. “Well, say something! Stop gawping like a looby. Don’t ever tell me that this man is your protector. I left you set for life with Bay.”

“It’s complicated.” Charlotte escaped the embrace. She wasn’t sure Deb was ready to hear all about the last several months, nor was she ready to explain the recent past with any lucidity. Art theft, imprisonment, kidnapping, armed sexual assault, and insanity were not typical topics of conversation. “Congratulations on your marriage, Arthur, and your good news.”

Arthur turned quite pink. “Thank you, Charlotte. Deborah, sweetheart, come inside and sit down. I don’t want you to tire yourself out.”

From what Charlotte had seen already, the only thing apt to be tired was Deb’s tongue. A small battalion of men moved to and fro up and down the stairs, loading the cart. “Mr. Frazier, perhaps you and Kitty and the coachman can refresh yourselves at the Pig and Whistle. They do a very nice lunch.”

“Are you sure, Miss Fallon?” He seemed suspicious of Deborah, having heard all of Mrs. Kelly’s and Irene’s tirades against her. Deb had not made herself popular in her brief tenure on Jane Street.

“Perfectly. You might do a bit of shopping as well, after. We’ll need something for dinner and breakfast.”

“I don’t like to leave you alone with these people,” Frazier mumbled for her ears only.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlotte said stoutly. Arthur could always hit any intruder in the head with the parrot.

“I know you’ve been sitting a spell, but you haven’t been sleeping well. You take care of yourself, too.” Frazier warned.

Charlotte was tired. She missed the length of Bay’s body against her in the night. Sleeping with Kitty in inns was not the same at all. Arthur tucked the parrot awkwardly under one arm and assisted Deb back into the cottage as though she were made of spun sugar. Following, Charlotte bit her lip as Deb milked her maternal status for all it was worth.

Mercifully, everything in the parlor was just as Charlotte had left it, except now Arthur propped the parrot on the mantel. Its malevolent beady eyes took in the comfortably shabby room, no doubt wishing for her sister’s more familiar exalted objets d’art. Deb kicked off her fancy embroidered slippers and lay back on the sofa, putting her feet up on a cushion.

“Be a dear and massage my feet, Arthur. Now, tell me. Who was that funny-looking red-haired man? And who is Kitty? Never tell me you were travelling with one of your cats. What a nuisance they’ve been, by the way, yowling at all hours ever since we arrived, getting underfoot of the removal men. Nasty creatures. I don’t see how you can stand the little beggars.”

“Prefer a dog, myself,” Arthur interjected as his hands smoothed over Deb’s stockings. “A nice beagle. Had one when I was a boy.”

“Yes, yes.” Deb waved her hand vaguely. “You may have one when we get back to Bard’s End, but it is not to come into my house and mess on my carpets. Nor will it nip my precious baby. Arthur, you must see to its training.”

“Yes, my love.”

Charlotte suppressed a giggle. For all Deb’s domesticity, she had not lost imperious sway over her husband. Arthur was completely in her thrall, no doubt pinching himself several times a day that he was actually married to London’s most sought-after courtesan.

“What has happened, Charlie? I even stopped at Jane Street and inquired of your neighbor Lady Christie. What an elegant woman she is, even if her life’s a scandal. I do wish I’d gotten to know her when I was there. She told me you simply disappeared, the house was shut up, and if I was to find you to send her felicitations. Oh! And she said she bought a red dress and her husband was apoplectic. Very odd, that. Anyway, tell me everything.”

“Well.” Charlotte wondered about Deb’s reaction when she told her about the engagement. Arthur compared rather unfavorably to Sir Michael Xavier Bayard, and Deb would think if she had played her cards patiently, she might have been Lady Bayard instead of Mrs. Bannister. She might as well get it over with. “I was with Bay at his estate in Dorset. He’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes.”

Deb jerked her foot out of her husband’s hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, you tease. Where have you been really?”

“I’ve just said, Deb.”

Deb sat up. “I can’t believe it! Where is your ring?”

Charlotte looked at her naked hands. “I-I don’t have one yet. A ring isn’t the important thing anyway.”

“Oh, you are so naive. Look what Arthur gave me.” She leaned over and thrust a good-sized winking sapphire under Charlotte’s nose.

Charlotte felt a twinge of spite. She untied her fichu, revealing the magnificent ruby necklace.

“My necklace!” cried Deb.

“My necklace,” countered Charlotte. “And you know you took it without permission.”

“It was an accident. I was in such a hurry to marry my Arthur I didn’t pay attention when I was packing. What a lot of trouble the silly thing caused. That man who interrupted our blissful honeymoon at Patrice’s chateau put a damper on us for days. It looks very nice on you,” Deb said grudgingly. “But that dress-don’t you have anything more suitable?”

“You know I don’t. Look, Deb, I’m happy for you. Please be happy for me.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I have everything I’ve ever wanted-a house of my own and a child on the way.” This was news to Charlotte, but she held her tongue. After a pregnant pause, an embarrassed Arthur cleared his throat. “And you, of course, Arthur! That goes without saying. But Charlie, are you sure Bay will marry you? He’s not a marrying kind of man.”

“I’m sure,” Charlotte said, praying that it was true.

The next hour passed as Deb gave orders from the couch while Charlotte brewed up tea and a fierce backache. Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief when the cart rattled off, taking the clomping, stomping men with it. Arthur and Deb repaired to the relative luxury of the Pig and Whistle, saying their good-byes as they were making for Kent with all the treasure at first light. Charlotte was spared sharing her supper with them-fresh bread, ham, and beans from her garden, which were running riot up over the poles. She and Kitty and Angus had dined in the cozy kitchen together, and the couple was now readying the two cleared-out attic rooms for nightfall, although Charlotte imagined just one of the pallets would be slept on tonight. Frazier’s arm was fully healed, and there was no reason why he could not consummate his engagement. Charlotte had no objection, as long as they weren’t too noisy. She was looking forward to sleeping undisturbed in her own bed beneath her own worn quilts.