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“All right.” Seraphina exhaled a gust of air. “I’ll tell him.”

“Excellent. Would you like to write to him now?”

“No.” She drank more of her tea as she pondered the best course of action. “It’s safest if I speak to him in person so I’m not creating evidence that could be intercepted. I’ll ask him to call on me so we can talk properly, but I’ll do it once I’m home.”

Letitia popped the last morsel of cake into her mouth, wiped her fingers, and patted Seraphina’s arm. “You’re making the right choice.”

“I really hope so.”

She finished her tea, hugged her friend, and took her carriage home. Not wanting to encounter her father when her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, she let herself in the side door and snuck through the house to her bedchamber.

She drew the curtains, needing to shut out the world outside for a while, and penned a letter to Trevor, asking him to call on her tomorrow morning. It took some finesse to word it in a way that didn’t sound entirely inappropriate, but she suspected he wouldn’t notice even if she’d danced all over the line of propriety.

The thought made her smile. She loved that she could forget about all of the careful wordplay and precise manners with Trevor and just be herself. It was a gift that—if she married him—she would never take for granted.

After passing along the letter to a maid, she collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her mind was a mess of worries and doubts, swirling and twining around each other like snakes.

Was her quinine toxic?

Would she have to marry Mr. Emerson?

And, most importantly, how would Trevor react when she shared her secret with him?

The last time her betrothal had been called off, she was elated, but this time, the prospect of being unable to marry her chosen groom made her sick. She wished she could predict how he would respond, but she honestly had no idea.

She would simply have to wait and find out.

CHAPTER 20

Trevor was hustling down the stairs, ready to leave to pay a visit to Seraphina, when the butler appeared at the base of the staircase and looked up at him.

“You have a caller, my lord.”

Trevor frowned. “I do?”

He checked his pocket watch. Unless he recalled incorrectly, he wasn’t late to meet Seraphina, so there ought to be no reason for her to have come here instead.

“Lord Sylvestor.” The butler gestured to one of the doors leading off the entrance hall. “He’s in the parlor. He, er, seems agitated.”

Trevor inclined his head. “Thank you. I’ll join him now.”

Hopefully, Sylvestor wouldn’t stay for long. Otherwise, Trevor would have to notify Seraphina that he’d be late or leave before they’d fixed whatever had upset his friend. Neither option appealed.

Skirting around the butler, Trevor strode toward the parlor. The door was shut, so he pulled it open and came up short at the sight that greeted him. Sylvestor was pacing back and forth, his hair sticking up in several directions, as if he’d been running his hands through it.

“I tossed and turned all night,” he said, rubbing the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I wasn’t certain what I ought to do, but I’ve decided that I need to be upfront with you because we’re friends, and a man ought to be able to rely upon his friends to tell him the truth, even if no one else will.”

Trevor’s stomach dropped. Whatever Sylvestor was talking about, it sounded bad. “What’s this about?” He came in and closed the door behind himself. “I’m due at Miss Dalton’s soon, but I can send word that I’ll be delayed or postpone the visit until tomorrow if something is wrong.”

Sylvestor’s mouth formed a thin line. “Miss Dalton is what I need to speak with you about.”

“Oh?” Trevor had a sinking feeling that Sylvestor might know why he’d been summoned to the Daltons’ residence—and that the reason wasn’t a positive one.

“I saw her walking yesterday with Mr. Emerson, and considering what happened between you and that particular gentleman recently, I can’t think of any good reason for them to be together.” Sylvestor hesitated, then reached out and rested his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I thought you should know.”

Trevor fisted his hands and then unfisted them, his fingers fluttering at his sides as the meaning of his friend’s words sank in.

Sylvestor thought that Seraphina was romantically involved with Mr. Emerson.