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social functions with Sara and Valentin, was almost too painful to bear.
    She’d completed all her social obligations, visited ancient relatives and made sure that the Beecham name was untainted by any further scandal. She could now return home to her son and live out the rest of her days as a virtuous and unwanted wife. Damn James, and damn Peter for agreeing to show them all how real love could be....
    As she entered the hotel, one of the desk clerks approached her and bowed.
    â€œLady Beecham? There is a gentleman here from a shipping company who wishes to speak to you. He insists that the matter is urgent.”
    â€œWhich shipping company?” She hoped to God it wasn’t Howard and Sokorvsky.
    â€œI’m not sure, my lady. Do you wish me to go inquire? I have put the gentleman in one of the parlors.”
    â€œNo, it’s all right. I’ll go and speak to him.”
    He bowed and took her down to one of the rooms that were available for patrons to rent out if required. A tall young man jumped to his feet as she entered the room. He wore a suit of clothes that were too lightweight for the weather and had obviously been warming his hands at the fire.
    â€œLady Beecham? My name is Ian Carter.”
    â€œIt is a pleasure to meet you, sir. How may I assist you?” Abby gestured to the chairs that stood by the fire, but Mr. Carter remained standing. “Would you like some tea?”
    She glanced back at the clerk, who nodded and left the room, leaving them alone.
    â€œLady Beecham, I—” Mr. Carter stopped talking and looked helplessly at her. “I don’t know how to tell you this—but your husband, Lord Beecham, is dead.”
    Abby wasn’t aware that she was rising to her feet until the floor came up to greet her, and she knew no more.
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    â€œPlease calm yourself, Mr. Carter. Lady Beecham is quite well.”
    Abby opened her eyes and looked up at Sara. Her bonnet had been removed, her head was in her friend’s lap and her feet were up on the couch. The sweet scent of lavender surrounded her as Sara dabbed a wet handkerchief on her forehead.
    â€œSara?”
    â€œAbby? Are you feeling more the thing? Do you wish to sit up?”
    â€œWhy are you here?” Abby asked as she gingerly sat up against the cushions.
    â€œYour maid came to get me. We were supposed to be having tea together today, so I was already in the hotel. Don’t you remember?”
    â€œThat’s right. I—I . . .” Her gaze moved away from Sara to the anxious face of Mr. Carter, who was sitting by the fire. “He said . . . he said James was dead .”
    â€œSo he told me.”
    Mr. Carter rose to his feet. “I am sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to alarm you so greatly. I am a complete fool.”
    Sara took Abby’s hand in a firm grasp. “Perhaps you could tell us exactly what happened, sir?”
    â€œYes, of course.” He fixed his earnest gaze on Abby. “I’m employed by the owner of the plantation that runs alongside your husband’s. Two months ago, there was a terrible fire at the sugar refinery at Trade Winds, and we all came out to help subdue the flames and rescue as much of the cash crop as we could.”
    â€œNot the workers?” Abigail asked, marveling at the calmness of her own voice.
    Mr. Carter shuddered. “Anyone who was within the building was already doomed, my lady. It was an inferno. Apparently, Lord Beecham did try to rescue some of his people. He was seen running into the building and . . .” He shook his head. “He never emerged.”
    â€œHow typical of James to run the wrong way,” Abby said. “Did you, did they , recover his body?”
    â€œWe did, my lady. His overseer and my employer both recognized Lord Beecham’s pocket watch and the signet ring he wore on his finger.”
    Abby breathed slowly through her nose, and black flecks danced in front of her eyes