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displeased, this time about having to accompany her companion to somewhere as dull as a library, and also because their conversation had taken a turn she most definitely did not care for. The other lady’s gown was a pale-pink muslin sprigged with silver-gray, and its beautifully decorated hem was trimmed with pink satin bows and a delicate edging of vandyked lace. She was evidently a little irritated, for the hem swung crossly as she moved, and she put down the books she was carrying with quite a bang on the table close to Charlotte’s hiding place.
    Judith was so antagonized that she forgot her Devonshire House drawl. “You’re quite wrong, my dear Sylvia. In fact, you’ve no idea at all what you’re talking about.”
    “Haven’t I? You’re the end in fools if you think Max Talgarth is about to make an honest woman of you. I think you believed that the moment he purchased Kimber Park he’d give up his apartment at Albany, which, after all, is exclusively for bachelors or widowers, but here we are, all this time later, and he still has his apartment.”
    Judith’s rather petulant shrug was audible in her reply. “You’re too prejudiced for words, and really, Sylvia, it’s becoming quite tiresome.”
    “You’d be prejudiced too if he’d done away with your sister.”
    “Anyone would think you and Anne were close, but you most definitely weren’t. She was your half-sister, Sylvia, and she gave herself airs and graces because of the immense fortune she inherited from her mother.”
    “Anne wasn’t like that and you know it.”
    “Do I? Oh, come on now, Sylvia, stop being so stubborn, and stop overdramatizing everything. You were obsessed with theatricals when you were a child and you don’t seem to have changed at all. You’re the only one fanning the flames of suspicion against Max; even your own father doesn’t seem to share your views. He doted upon Anne, so if anyone could be expected to hold a grudge against Max for her death, it should be him. But, no, Admiral Henry Parkstone still welcomes Max to his house, still calls him his son-in-law, and still shows every sign of holding him in as much regard as he did on the day Anne married.”
    Charlotte felt rather than saw the angry flush these words brought to Sylvia’s cheeks. “Taunt me as you wish, Judith, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’d admit that there was something very odd about Anne’s death. She was an expert with a horse and gig, yet for no apparent reason lost all control of an animal that was known to be docile enough. And then, while she was struggling to rein in, the wheel just happened to sheer off a brand-new vehicle! Don’t you think it strange? I know I do, especially when the gig was a gift from Max, at a time when the world knew they’d been at bitter odds. How can you pretend there’s nothing suspicious about it? And how can you say that I’m the only one fanning the flames when everyone whispers secretly about it?”
    “They only whisper because you persist in bringing the subject up!”
    “Do you expect me to hold my tongue about something as important as this? It matters very much, Judith, because whatever you say, Anne and I were close. Can you imagine how I felt watching her change at Max Talgarth’s hands from a vital, sweet-tempered creature into a sour-faced, jealous woman consumed with suspicion about everything? He did that to her; he was unfaithful, harsh, and thoughtless, and in the end he destroyed her. He married her because of the immense fortune she inherited from her mother’s family, and when it suited him, he rid himself of her.” She paused. “Accidents seem to have a peculiar way of turning to Max Talgarth’s benefit, don’t they?” she added quietly.
    “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
    “Surely it’s struck even you by now that George Wyndham’s death was immensely convenient for Max?”
    Charlotte felt a sudden cold finger move down her spine. Her heart was beating so