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years.
    “Imagine that brainless Sarah Jane,” Belinda continued, “running away because she is afraid of illness! I never thought very highly of her character anyway, but I am surprised to find her such a coward!”
    Arabella snipt the top off her soft-boiled egg and stuck her spoon into the cheerful white and yellow depths. “D’you know what Charles calls these, Bunny?”
    “What?”
    “Cackle farts. That’s rather good, don’t you think?”
    Belinda did not appear to think it was.
    “Well, anyway,” said Arabella, “I expect Sarah Jane simply got tired of being a wife and mother, and has run off with an actor or something. Never mind. Frank and Eddie will both be better off without her.”
    “Not if poor Mr. Dysart loses his job.”
    “There is no question of that. Eddie will come to us until she is better.”
    “Oh, Bell!” cried Belinda. “I am so glad! You know, you really are a very kind person!”
    “I am a very selfish person. If I don’t agree to take Eddie now, then, as you say, Constable Dysart will lose his job, and I shall be responsible for the child for the next six or seven years! An ounce of prevention today is worth hundreds of pounds in upkeep down the line.”
    She scraped the last of her egg from its shell and pushed the egg cup away from her.
    “You enjoy playing the cynic,” said Belinda, smiling, “but your heart is really as soft as that egg was. After all, you are the one responsible for bringing Sarah Jane and Mr. Dysart together. I think he only married her because he was so fond of Eddie.”
    “Pure self-interest again,” said Arabella. “I was hoping that by providing stable home lives for Eddie and Neddy, I should be seeing a lot less of them. But I am not very good at matchmaking, apparently.”
    Neddy was another of Charles’s by-blows, fathered on a woman named Polly, whom Arabella had introduced to Constable Hacker, another Bow Street Runner. That marriage was not a happy one, either. Nor did Neddy and his stepfather get along.
    “Come, dearest,” said Arabella, rising. “It’s time we were on our way.”
    Belinda put down her napkin and pushed back her chair.
    “Regardless of your motives,” she said, “Frank Dysart has been the saving of our Eddie. You have made a world of difference to her life, Bell.”
    The ladies donned their hats and gloves, bid good-bye to the servants, and headed for the porte cochere, where the loaded landau awaited them.
    “I am certain that you will find Sir Birdwood-Fizzer to be a perfectly amiable host,” said Arabella. “But he does have one or two harmless vices, and indulging him will make the visit far more pleasant for both of you.”
    Belinda had already ascended the carriage via the foldout steps, and was busy settling her little dog upon the seat. “Vices?” she asked. “What vices?”
    “Toe sucking,” said Arabella as the driver helped her in. “ His toes, not yours. (Thank you, Trotter.) Also being told that he is a bad, naughty boy. It is nothing, Bunny; I am confident that you will handle it.”
    Trotter shut the door and hoisted himself up to his seat.
    “Oh, yes,” said Belinda faintly. “I daresay I shall.”
    Unlike Arabella, Bunny was accustomed to bestow her favors only upon gentlemen whom she found attractive, and was consequently disinclined to charge them for the honor. This was a pity, since she was blessed with great personal charm, and might have made a splendid fortune for herself. But Belinda was predisposed toward fidelity and marriage, and that was all there was to that.
    “Yes, I am quite certain I shall,” she said again, attempting to harden her voice. “I shall be fine. Won’t I?”
    “Brace yourself,” said Arabella.
    The carriage started off with a violent jolt, and the passengers were thrown forward. But they were not jostled too badly, having prepared for this ahead of time.
    “All right,” Belinda said, raising her voice so as to be heard over the carriage wheels, and