Hyde Park Headsman

she meant. Dulcie was almost upon them.

“It has been a most moving occasion,” Charlotte said courteously.

“Thank you, Mrs. Pitt,” Dulcie accepted.

Emily added some appropriate remark, and before Dulcie could continue with whatever formality came next, they were joined by Lady Lismore and Landon Hurlwood.

“Dulcie, my dear,” Lady Lismore began with a warm smile, “do you know Mr. Landon Hurlwood? He greatly admired Aidan’s work, and came to pay his respects and offer his sympathy.” She turned to Hurlwood.

“No,” Hurlwood said.

“Yes,” Dulcie said at exactly the same moment.

Hurlwood blushed.

“I am so sorry,” he said quickly. “Of course I have met Mrs. Arledge. I simply meant that our acquaintance is very slight. How do you do, Mrs. Arledge. I am flattered you remembered me. There must be so many who admired your husband’s work.”

“How do you do, Mr. Hurlwood,” she answered, looking up at him with wide, dark blue eyes. “It is very kind of you to have come. I am gratified you admired my husband’s work. I am sure his name will live on, and perhaps give pleasure and encouragement for years to come.”

“I have no doubt.” He bowed very slightly, searching her face, his expression full of concern. “Would it be impertinent to say how much I admire your dignity in the face of such a loss, Mrs. Arledge?”

She colored deeply and lowered her eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Hurlwood, although I fear you flatter me. It is most generous.”

“Not at all,” Lady Lismore said quickly. “It is no more than the truth. Now I am sure you must be ready to retire after all this emotion. I shall be privileged to remain here and bid people good-bye, if you would like me to.”

Dulcie took a very deep breath, not looking at Hurlwood anymore.

“I think I should appreciate that, my dear, if you really do not mind?” she accepted.

“May I see you to your carriage?” Hurlwood offered her his arm.

She hesitated for several moments, then with a nervous flicker of her tongue across her lips, her face showing the exhaustion she must have felt, she declined graciously and walked alone to the door, where Scarborough stepped forward and opened it for her, following her out to accept her cloak from the footman and call her carriage.

“A most remarkable person,” Lady Lismore said with feeling.

Hurlwood’s eyes were still on the doorway where she had departed. There was a faint color in his cheeks. “Indeed,” he echoed. “Quite remarkable.”

9

LADY AMANDA KILBRIDE rode out alone, very early, towards Rotten Row. She had quarreled with her husband the evening before and wished him to rise and find her absent. Of course he would not think she had left in any permanent sense. Such a thing would be out of the question, but he would be worried. He would be anxious in case she had done something foolish, just possibly even fulfilled her promise to run off and have a dramatic love affair with the first presentable man who asked her.

Although in the cold, pale light of morning she was obliged to admit that there were not so many presentable men at all, let alone ones who would invite married ladies to have affairs. The chance that one had come along between her threat, made at about nine o’clock, and the time she had retired and locked her bedroom door, a little before midnight, was very remote indeed.

Still, let him wonder!

She reached the end of the Row and saw its rather gravelly surface stretching out in front of her beneath the trees. A good sharp canter was precisely what she needed. She leaned a little forward and patted her horse, giving it a word of encouragement. Its ears pricked at the change in her tone. All morning so far she had regaled it with the injustices done her. Now she urged it into a trot, and then a canter.

She rode well and she knew it. It added to her enjoyment of the sharp spring sunshine, the long shadows across the Row and the sheen of dew on the park grass beyond. There was hardly anyone else around, even in Knightsbridge, which she could see beyond the edge of the park; there was only an occasional late reveler returning home, or very early risers like herself, enjoying the cold, bare sunlight and the virtual solitude.

At the far end she turned and cantered back towards Hyde Park Corner, feeling the wind in her face and at last beginning to smile.

Three quarters of the way down she slowed to a walk. She knew better than to offer her horse a drink at the trough while it was still warm, but she would dearly like to splash her own face with its coolness. She dismounted, leaving the reins loose, and took a couple of steps to the trough. She bent down absently, her mind still on her husband’s offense, then with her hands in the water she turned her head and looked.

The water was red-brown.

She withdrew sharply with a cry of revulsion. The whole trough was cloudy with some dark fluid, far too dark to be water. There was also something else in it, something large which she could not see because of the murkiness.

“Oh really!” she said angrily. “This is too bad! Who would do such a stupid thing? Now it’s filthy!” She stepped back, and it was only as she stood up that she saw the odd object on the far side of the trough. It was so odd in its appearance that she looked more closely.