“I could kill my brother,” the duchess said. “Oh, how dare he die when he did and escape retribution. How dare he not be alive now at this very moment to face my wrath. Whatever was he thinking? I had never even heard of this Alice Snow woman before today. Had any of you? Mildred? Matilda? Mama?”

None of them confessed to any knowledge of the late Humphrey’s first wife—his only wife, actually. Lady Molenor, Cousin Mildred, wailed briefly into her handkerchief.

“But he was married to her and had a daughter with her,” the duchess continued, sawing the air with the hand that was not patting her sister’s knee and almost elbowing Jess in the eye. “And then he abandoned her and married Viola as though that first marriage could just be ignored when it was no longer convenient to him. Of course, it was common knowledge that he never had a feather to fly with while Papa still lived, but was as wild and expensive as sin. We all knew that the last time Papa paid off his mountain of debts, he also told Humphrey never again to expect one penny more than his quarterly allowance, which was a great deal more than the pin money we girls had to be content with, let me tell you. I suppose he was in desperate straits by the time Mama and Papa chose a bride for him and married her in order to get the funds flowing again. I suppose he assumed no one would ever find out about his dying wife and their daughter—and no one ever did during his lifetime. I could kill him.”

“That daughter is my granddaughter,” the dowager said as though to herself, spreading her hands on her lap and examining the rings on her fingers.

Lady Matilda still hovered with the vinaigrette.

Jess was sobbing into the thin confection of a handkerchief she had twisted almost beyond recognition, and Avery toyed with the idea of sending her off to the care of her governess. But a chapter in her family history was being written here today—no doubt it would be a starred chapter—and he supposed it was wiser to allow her to experience it for herself in all its raw emotion. Besides, he rarely imposed his authority upon her, partly because he assiduously avoided exerting himself unnecessarily, but mainly because she had a mother who was reasonably sensible most of the time. And who could blame her today for wanting to murder a dead man? He was not feeling kindly disposed toward the late Earl of Riverdale himself and was selfishly glad he was not related by any tie of blood.

Bigamy was not, after all, a mild offense that could be attributed to wild oats.

“I had never heard of that woman either until today, Louise,” the former countess said, “though I did know of the girl Riverdale was keeping at an orphanage in Bath. I assumed, quite wrongly, that she was his natural daughter by a former mistress. I even felt a grudging sort of respect for him for taking financial responsibility for her. I wonder if the truth would ever have come out if I had not commissioned Mr. Brumford to find her and make a settlement upon her. It was not out of the goodness of my heart that I did it, I must add, but because I did not want her making any future claim upon Harry. I had hoped he and Cam and Abby need never know of their father’s indiscretion.”

She laughed without humor and patted her daughters’ hands briskly before continuing.

“Your idea is a good one, Cam,” she said. “We will all cast off our mourning today. What an enormous relief that will be. We will wait and see what you arrange with Lord Uxbury this afternoon and move to a hotel if the wedding is to be within the next few days. Thank you all for the offers of hospitality, but it really would not be appropriate for us to stay with any of you. If the wait for the wedding is to be longer than a few days—Uxbury may well insist upon having banns called—then we will remove to the country and supervise the packing up of all our personal belongings while we wait. Either way we have a busy time ahead of us and must waste no more of it sitting here.”

“Pack our belongings?” Abigail looked bewildered.

“But of course,” her mother said. “Neither Westcott House in town here nor Hinsford Manor in Hampshire belongs to Harry any longer. They belong to . . . her.”

“But where will you and I go after the wedding?” Abigail asked. “I do not believe Lord Uxbury would like it if we imposed ourselves upon him permanently no matter what Cam says.”

“I do not know where we will go, Abby,” her mother said irritably, showing the first crack in her composure. “I shall take you to your grandmother—my mama—in Bath, I suppose. She will surely be happy to give you a home despite the disgrace, for which you are not even the slightest bit at fault. She adores you and Cam.”

“And you, Viola?” the duchess asked sharply.

“I do not know, Louise.” The countess flashed her a ghastly smile. “I am Miss Kingsley again, you know. It would not do for me as a single lady to remain in Bath with my daughter. It would not be fair to my mother, and it would be potentially disastrous for any hope Abby may have of making some sort of eligible connection. I shall probably go to my brother. Michael is a clergyman in more than just name, and he has been lonely, I believe, since the death of my sister-in-law last year. We have always been fond of each other. I shall stay with him, at least for a while, until I decide upon something more permanent.”

No, Avery decided, this was definitely not a morning of boredom. His stepmother, he noticed, had not even remembered to send for the tea tray.

“But what about Harry?” Abigail asked again.

“I do not know, Abby,” her mother said. “He must find some suitable employment, I suppose. Perhaps Avery will help him, though he is no longer bound by the guardianship his father agreed to.”