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stray hairs behind her ear and gave Porter a sharp glance. “Why not?” she wondered, nervously smoothing her bombazine skirts. “Was she at Norwick Park?”
    The majordomo seemed suddenly embarrassed and did not respond. He was already aware of the dowager countess descending the main stairs. Clarinda took a deep breath and nodded in his direction, acknowledging his expert use of his eyebrows to warn her of Dorothea’s impending entrance. She made her way to the foot of the stairs. Sure enough, from the swish of silk skirts and petticoats, she could hear that Dorothea Wright Fitzwilliam was nearly down to the first staircase landing. Not wanting to have to look up at the formidable woman as she made her way down the second set of stairs, Clarinda gathered up her skirts and hurried up the steps to meet the woman on the lower landing. Her timing proved perfect as she reached the broad carpeted landing just as the Dowager Countess of Norwick was about to step onto the same landing.
    “My lady,” Clarinda managed to get out before noticing her mother-in-law looked positively resplendent in a fashionable scarlet carriage gown. Why isn’t she wearing black? was the countess’ first thought, although she saw that Lady Norwick did at least have a black armband secured around the sleeve of her gown. She immediately sealed her lips, realizing she should have waited for the older woman to speak first. Performing a perfect curtsy, Clarinda waited for the dowager countess to make her greeting.
    “Oh, Clare,” the woman said with a shake of her head. “You needn’t be so damned formal with me,” Dorothea claimed, moving to wrap her arms around the younger woman’s shoulders. “I am so very sorry for the both of us,” she murmured before she pulled away and stepped back, leaving her hands on Clarinda’s shoulders. Her gaze swept down her daughter-in-law’s dress, making a ‘tsk’ sound as she did so. “I promised myself after spending a year in mourning for Norwick that I would never again wear black. Or black and white. Makes me look like the living dead, and I fear it almost does the same to you. Although ...” She moved her gaze to Clarinda’s face. “You look ...” Her eyes suddenly widened. “You look ...”
    “Like I’m with child?” Clarinda offered in a very quiet voice, hoping it was the sentiment the dowager countess was trying to vocalize.
    “Oh!” Dorothea said as she stepped back, a hand pressed against her bosom as her face changed from shock to joy. “Oh, Clare. This is ... this is ...”
    “Complicating, I know,” Clarinda said, not quite sure if it was what Dorothea was trying to say.
    “That wasn’t quite what I was going to say,“ Dorothea protested with an arched eyebrow. ”But ... Oh, Clare!“ She pulled Clarinda into a heartfelt hug. “How long?” There was a hint of a hiss, as if her mother-in-law suddenly clenched her teeth before asking. Clarinda wondered if David had mentioned her previous miscarriage to his mother.
    “More than three months,” Clarinda whispered, remembering how many times she had consulted a calendar in the eleven weeks since she’d missed her monthly courses. The hug got a bit harder.
    “That’s a relief, then,” Dorothea said as she pulled away again. “Or not,” she suddenly said as her face lost its joy. She took Clarinda’s arm in hers and steered them to the stairs.
    Clarinda rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Daniel,” she said as she descended the steps with Dorothea. They made their way to the parlor and Clarinda rang for tea. “I fear he already despises me, and I cannot imagine how this news will help his opinion of me.”
    Dorothea regarded Clarinda with another arched eyebrow before taking a seat in the chair her son usually used. “When do you suppose you lost his good opinion? I ask only because ...” She paused for a moment and regarded her daughter-in-law with furrowed brows. “I have not heard an