One

March 1880

Chance Meetings

“WHAT ARE YOUR plans for the Season, Miss Camden?”

“My plans, sir?” Jera breathed in the fresh, warm air as she walked with Mr. Gilchrist MacKinnon around the park. He fidgeted, reaching for her hand, then pulled away. Jera sent up a prayer of relief that he remembered propriety—or that Georgine trailed behind as their chaperone—and kept his hands to himself.  “As ever, it’ll depend on what invitations I get.”

He folded his hands behind his back. “You will always find room at my table, Miss Camden.”

“I thank you for that.” Jera knew her mother hoped Mr. MacKinnon would offer an engagement soon. As the son of a baron it’d be a beneficial match. Jera would receive little—if any—inheritance from her father’s family, so her mother hoped to move her up in society through an advantageous marriage.

Mr. MacKinnon was handsome, tall, and light-haired with hazel eyes and an appealing face. Though he had a fine fashion sense and polite demeanor and though Jera liked him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him on more than social calls. Tying herself to him for all eternity in marriage wasn’t her fondest desire.

“This town would be far better off if the subways didn’t run through it. All that repulsive smoke that they spew out of their tunnels!” He wrinkled his nose. “Forgive me, Miss Camden. I meant no offense to your poorer relations.”

My poorer relations? Uncle Everett may work, but he and her aunt and cousins weren’t beggars.

“Don’t you find it appalling? The scent?”

Jera looked out over the park in the direction of Wallflower Subway Station. “I warrant it’s the downside of progress, my lord. We may have to grow used to all manner of things before our lives end.”

“I knew you for a connoisseur of the arts, Miss Camden, but I never dreamed you were a philosopher.” A bold smile bloomed. “Will you fault me if I say I find it charming?”

Did he mean he thought it charming in the way one would indulge a little girl, or was his meaning serious? With Mr. Edwin Hetherington, her brother, Silas, and Silas’s other friends, she always knew where she stood. Not so with Mr. MacKinnon. Not sure of his meaning, she replied, likewise vague: “You’re too kind, sir.”

A puppy’s bark drew her attention away from her companion. The brown, spotted animal veered right for them, paused before MacKinnon, and did its business on his foot.

Gilchrist hopped back. “My word!”

Jera hid a laugh behind her hand, knelt down, and rubbed the dog’s ears. “What are you doing, you little tramp?”

Georgine rounded the other side and patted the dog’s back. “See here, young man. That’s not polite at all.”

The dog barked again and wagged his tail.

A man’s laugh drew her attention and Jera looked up to see Edwin, not far away. The sunlight glinted off his much-too-short, blond hair, giving him a heavenly aura that made him all the more handsome to her, though his earthy green eyes and the mischievous glint there, grounded him firmly in this world. He’d pushed the sleeves of his dark jacket up showing off his strong forearms, and carried a set of folders under his arm, with more stuffed in his valise, she assumed.

“Jera, there you are.” In no time, he was by her side and slipped an arm around her. “Were you waiting long? I’m sorry. Work overwhelmed me.” He kissed her forehead. “I missed you. Forgive me, darling?”

Jera’s heart fluttered when he kissed her and called her darling.

“Oh!” This exclamation from Georgine.

Jera narrowed her eyes at her chaperone. Georgine turned back to the puppy while Jera addressed her brother. “Mr. Hetherington. Er, Edwin.” If they were playing at familiarity, she may as well use his given name. “I didn’t expect to see you today—er, I mean.”

“We thought you were at the courthouse all day,” Georgine said.

Edwin hesitated. “I’m expected soon.”

“You’re late.” She wondered if Mr. MacKinnon heard the question in her voice. He seemed distracted by the tree nearby. A cricket of some sort whined as it crawled up the trunk and the insect held Mr. MacKinnon’s attention.

“I know, Mr. Ames will have words for me. Shall I see you home before I’m off, my dear?”

“We were…” Where were we going? She couldn’t remember, Edwin’s words and kiss flustered her so.

MacKinnon narrowed his eyes. “We were on our way somewhere, sir.”

Jera popped out of her fluster. “Mr. Gilchrist MacKinnon, this is Mr. Edwin Hetherington. My—friend.”

Edwin released her and the two men shook hands. MacKinnon looked between the two of them and Jera thought he didn’t know how to proceed. She set her reticule into the crook of her elbow, her arm tingling from Edwin’s brief embrace. “We were, as he said, getting some exercise with a walk around the park.”

Edwin glanced at him but it wasn’t long before she had his attention again. “I’m sure your mother expects you soon.”

“She may,” MacKinnon said. “Shall we go, my dear Miss Camden?”

She thought a flicker of jealousy lit Edwin’s earthy-green eyes.

He may only be polite interrupting with an act of close familiarity, but what he’d done made the baron’s son put space between them, for which she was grateful. Still, a hint of hope pushed whatever MacKinnon had been about to say right out of her head. There were things that she wanted to ask Edwin, but those were of a more personal nature—both for herself and for news of her uncle’s predicament. She knew better than to ask about it here; no lawyer she knew spoke of ongoing cases. Edwin was no different. She didn’t want to delay him, but on the other hand, she didn’t want him to go so soon. The topic that occupied her family most right now provided an out. “I’ll see you at the wedding, Edwin.”

“Of course. And you, Mr. MacKinnon?”

“I’m not going.”

Edwin frowned. “I wouldn’t have declined an invitation from the Camdens.”

“Alas, I won’t be in town.”

The dog whined, drawing her attention away from Gilchrist. It flopped at Edwin’s feet, and presented its belly.

Jera laughed at the dog. “I do believe he loves you, Mr. Hetherington.” She well understood the affection. In any other world, she would encourage Edwin to court her. But his financial worth was little more than enough to support his sister, and he worked for her father and now, her uncle.

A little boy ran up to them. “Alexander, come here! Thank you for catching him, sir. Miss. He didn’t bite you, did he?”

Edwin gave the pup another scratch. “No harm done.”

“None, indeed.” MacKinnon offered her his hand. “All is well, isn’t that so, my dear Miss Camden?”

Jera smoothed her skirts. “Quite right, sir.”

Edwin picked up the leash and handed it to the boy. “He just wanted attention from an attractive young lady.”

He never missed a chance to compliment her beauty. Perhaps he did find her attractive. The idea lightened Jera’s heart.

The boy ran off, the dog barking at his heels. Jera noticed Edwin had dropped a sheet out of his papers and scooped it up for him. “A writ of…” Jera shook her head. “I’ll not even try to guess what that is.”

Edwin laughed. “It’s nothing exciting, I assure you.” Their fingers brushed as he accepted it.  “But important, nonetheless.”

Edwin settled the paper into its place in his folder. “I’d miss it, for sure, but you saved me.” He gave her a little bow. “I must go. Good day, Mr. MacKinnon, Miss Camden.”

He headed off toward the courthouse.

MacKinnon cleared his throat. Jera dragged her gaze from Edwin’s retreat. Back to reality. “I’m sorry, Mr. MacKinnon, I believe you were in the middle of insulting my uncle?”

MacKinnon had the grace to blush. “I’m sorry to give offense, Miss Camden. I only speak the truth about what the smog does to the quality of our air.” He nodded to the distance. She looked to see Edwin crossing the street, disappearing behind a passing cart laden with what, she didn’t know. “Who is that fellow? Your beau?”

I wish he was. “He’s a friend. To answer your earlier question, my uncle and his son-in-law to be are looking into the possibility of replacing the steam engines and current tracks with electrified versions.”

“Are they, now?”

“Indeed. Do you have something against that sort of progress?”

“Not at all.” He paused and laced his hands behind his back. “I wonder if this isn’t a discussion for your next salon.”

“I believe my guests would stand against you, sir.” She smiled her sweetest smile. “If you wish to engage my uncle, my cousin, and her fiancé—all of whom are fond of, and I might add, tied to Wallflower subway station—I warn you to be prepared for them to shout you down.”

As they left the park, she looked back to the street, still astonished that she’d seen Edwin. She wished that he had accompanied her today, instead of the charming, yet somehow boring Gilchrist MacKinnon.

The weather obliged Honorine’s wishes for an Easter wedding and her guests filled Wallflower’s Ladies’ Auxiliary Club. Watching the people milling about the garden, Edwin wondered who they’d left off the guest list. Honorine’s sister and friends were here, as well as the one young woman Edwin couldn’t take his eyes off: her cousin, Jera.

He was glad to have seen her on Thursday and still thought of the bold step he took to rescue her from the odious Mr. MacKinnon. All through the wedding, the thought of his arm around her distracted him and as much as he longed for another chance to hold her, he scolded himself. So, the very first thing Edwin did, when he could approach Jera outside her parents’ hearing, was to apologize for his actions, this week.

She assured him there was nothing to forgive.

The incident seemed forgotten as he followed Jera out of the garden. “You outshone everyone at the party,”

They continued to the entrance, where they paused. Her father, Edwin’s employer, couldn’t be much further behind.

Her father liked him, so an innocent compliment on her beauty couldn’t be bad, could it?

“Rightly so. I’m sure you’ll do so, even at my wedding. And so you should; I’m nothing next to you even on an ordinary day.”

A warm blush spread up Jera’s cheeks. “You’re flattering me.”

“I only speak the truth.” He hoped she didn’t mind him saying so. Too bad he couldn’t steal her away from that MacKinnon fellow. Jera would rather not spend any more time with him, if he was any judge of the young lady’s response to their meeting on Thursday. He didn’t wonder why. Why, the fellow was more interested in bugs than the fair Jera, if Edwin remembered correctly what distracted the bloke.

“Before I forget, Georgine wished me to ask you—” Jera hesitated.

“Yes, Miss Camden?” Intent on Jera’s question, Edwin almost stepped into a man in an invalid chair. His attendant was a young man who couldn’t be much older than Isabelle Camden. “Excuse me, sir.”

He widened his berth to circle the man and his attendant.

“My word!” the man said. “Little Edwin Hetherington, is it you, or do my eyes fail me?”

Edwin stopped mid-step and peered at the fellow. Little? I haven’t been little for years, sir!

Even Jera frowned.

“Do you not remember me? I’m Miles Vassyr.”

The introduction startled Edwin. He was all of five the last time he saw Vassyr. The gentleman had once held Edwin’s family property in Ireland as their very British landlord, and set them on a path that landed them here. Without him, Edwin wouldn’t be part of Wallflower society today. At the price of their home, his father still said the trade wasn’t worth it.

Edwin hadn’t seen Vassyr for years and remembered no rumors of him stopping in Wallflower before. Gossips would eat up the news of a once-Irish landlord’s arrival in the village.

“Don’t mind me for eavesdropping but did I hear, as you came out, that congratulations are in order?” He ogled Jera a moment. “My, my!”

Edwin’s blood pressure went up at Vassyr’s examination of Franklin Camden’s daughter. He laid a protective hand on Jera’s wrist.

“You’ve done well for yourself, my boy,” Vassyr said. “I don’t know what I can do to add to your happiness, but I hope I may try.”

“Wait—” Jera looked to Edwin. “Add to his happiness?”

Edwin closed down, struggling to hold his rage in check. “I don’t understand you, Sir Vassyr.”

The man reached a hand back to his attendant. “Reginald, give him that letter I was to post—and our cards, while you’re at it.”

“Uncle, why? He’s nothing more than a scamp—and an Irish one, at that.”

Sir Vassyr scoffed. “Forgive him for that slight, Hetherington. He thinks he may do and say whatever he pleases, no matter what trouble it causes everyone. Do as I ask, boy and watch your tongue.”

The stubborn Reginald still muttered curses as he produced a letter and a gold card case from his silk vest pocket.

Vassyr took the items. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again, my boy! On the other hand, I met with your father yesterday. Did he tell you?”

“He failed to mention it, although, I don’t spend much time with them, anymore.” More’s the pity.

“No. After all, you’re no longer a babe in arms.” Vassyr stopped talking and handed the letter to Edwin. “I suppose you never thought you’d hear from me, Edwin, and I can’t wonder why. I’ve looked forward to seeing you ever since I landed back in Britain. Come by one day.”

Come by? The last person he wanted to associate with was Vassyr. “Er… Well, I have plans.”

“Of course, of course. Important young men always do. Make an exception, this once.”

Vassyr held a higher place in society than Edwin. He knew his father might not care, but could Edwin snub Vassyr and survive it?

His companion had shoved his finger up his nose.

Jera let out a soft, disgusted gasp.

Vassyr snapped his fingers, and when the boy didn’t answer, Vassyr looked up at him and scoffed. “Reginald, for the love of God, boy, stop that! Have you lost all your manners, lately?”

Reginald withdrew his finger from his nose.

Vassyr grumbled then turned his attention back to them. “As I was saying, Edwin, I think I have something that might be worthwhile to you and your growing family.”

Growing family? To whom does Vassyr refer? Edwin wondered. What did he have to offer?

The man tapped his chair. “Come along, Reginald. We can’t dally. Lord Osbourne will have my head, if we’re late.”

Edwin watched him go, then opened the letter. A haze of fury threatened to overwhelm him as he read and he wondered if he processed the message correctly. “This can’t be right.”

“What’s wrong, Edwin?” Jera plucked the letter from Edwin’s hand, read, and again met his gaze. “He’s one of your father’s friends?”

“Not in the least.” Edwin tried to take the card back.

Jera read Vassyr’s note aloud, “‘I met with your father and thought my proposal would interest him. His silence tells me otherwise. I’m left only to try again with you.’ Proposal?” She met his gaze, wide-eyed, and continued reading. “‘I find I’m in no condition to continue caring for your family as we’d planned, years ago—’ What does this mean?”

It meant something he’d never explained to the Camdens. He should be long over this, but his fury proved otherwise. “The bloody bastard’s no real friend!”

She kept reading. “Why not?  What he says sounds like the words of a friend to me.”

Edwin held out a hand and Jera relinquished the letter. He reluctantly turned his attention from her to read.

Edwin,

I met with your father and thought my proposal would interest him. His silence tells me otherwise. I’m left only to try again with you. I find I’m in no condition to continue caring for your family as we’d planned, years ago. I’m too infirm.

Before I go, I have one favor to ask of you and your fiancée. Should you be inclined to know more, I’ll be at your disposal at 22 Euston Street, Monday.

Miles Vassyr

Fiancée? That wasn’t the least of his worries. He looked at Jera, and excused himself. “Where are you going?” Jera asked.

Edwin yanked the club door open. “I need a second opinion on this.”

Jera followed Edwin as he returned to the garden. Georgine spotted her and stopped her by the fountain. “Jera, did you convince Edwin to let me go to Baroness MacKinnon’s party?”

“Not yet. We’ve a few weeks left to convince him.”

Georgine reached her hand idly into the water trickling down the marble. “I’m afraid he might not.” Compared to Jera’s own drab dark hair and thin face, Georgine resembled a blonde Botticelli cherub, with her face round and curves leaning to plump. Though she hadn’t been at her easel today, Jera noticed a hint of linseed oil in her friend’s perfume. “A baroness’s party might be too much. He’ll say I’m reaching above my station.”

“Don’t worry. If you can’t convince him, I’ll have my father or Silas intervene on your behalf.” Jera opened her small silver watch. “Remind him you shant be attending alone, that should soften their resolve.”

Maybe she could make an advantageous match for her friend. But the memory of what just happened flooded in. “My friend, your brother has had some extraordinary news.”

“He has? What?”

“Someone from your past—or I should say his—has returned.”

Georgine sought him out and Jera followed. “Edwin? What’s happened?”

Her cousin’s family had finished greeting all their guests, a musician struck a chord in the corner of the patio. Soft and sweet, the music accentuated the birdsong from overhead.

So much had happened since last Christmas. The charity event Shane and Honorine hosted and the publicity it prompted for her cousin, all these had made for an eventful year. If these events didn’t help the railways in the many lawsuits since filed against them was still anyone’s guess.

She followed as Edwin and Georgine approached Shane, who, playing with her little brother, stumbled and collapsed dramatically on the ground. “There, boy, you got me.” He opened one eye, plucked up a stick, and thrust it under his arm so it stood up like a sword. “I’m dead. Can I still surrender?”

Phillip laughed at him.

Mother pushed away her smile, and grabbed Phillip’s arm. “Here, son. Don’t kill your cousin’s new husband on her wedding day. It’s rude.”

Their listeners laughed. Shane ruffled Phillip’s dark hair. “It’s all right, Viola. I’m sure I deserved it.”

The boy ran off to play with the other children, one of whom was Shane’s own little brother.

Edwin approached his friend. “Are you dead?”

“I don’ think so.” Shane rose, dusting off his black jacket. Some bits of grass still clung to his light neck, and freckled wrist, and to the red hair just above his ear.

“Then, if you would—“ Edwin handed him the letter. “—have a look at this.”

A puzzled frown crossed Shane’s face. “What is it, Ed?”

“Read it, please. Tell me what you think.”

As he did so, Honorine read over his shoulder. She glanced up at him. “Oh, Edwin!”

Her exclamation even drew her father and uncle’s attention.

“Caring for your family? Ha!” There was little mirth in Shane’s laugh, and indeed, he punctuated it with a curse. “Er, my apologies, ladies.”

Edwin nodded. “What would you do? Ignore it?”

Honorine read the note again. “Forgive me. I don’t understand. Who is this man?”

Edwin unclenched his jaw. “He’s the man who took over our property … back home.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes and she lowered her voice. “Ireland? But that was twenty some years ago!”

Shane re-read the message before turning his attention back to him. “What would I do, really? You’re the lawyer. Surely you can ignore him.”

Jera reached for him, stopped herself, and curled her hands together. “If this were my decision? I know it’s not, but if it were, I’d want to know more about this favor he asks.”

Edwin stared off into the distance; what was he thinking about? “I can’t see him tomorrow. I have depositions at nine.” He nodded to Shane. “For the station.”

Shane let out a frustrated breath and sat back. “I’m sorry, my friend. I didn’t expect the crash would inconvenience you. I wish that hadn’t happened on our line.”

“I’m sorry not everyone decided to accept the Metropolitan’s settlement.”

Shane shrugged. “I can’t have every prayer answered, I suppose.”

When the night ended and the bride and groom bid them goodnight, Georgine followed Edwin home. They walked in silence for half a block before his sister spoke up. “You’re thinking about Mr. Vassyr’s note, aren’t you?”

Edwin nodded. “Yes.”

She laughed. “Why do you think Father refused him?”

“That’s a question.” He nodded to the street. “I would like to know that, myself. Before I meet with the fellow.”

“I believe he’d be at the factory, still.” She laced her arm through his. “Lead the way.”

Past the turn to the street that would take them to Wallflower subway station, they turned down Main Street to Waters. Here, the smog grew thicker. Rows of three-story tenements replaced the fine townhouses of Wallflower’s more affluent district. People in mean, patched clothing attended to their work, adding color and noise to the busy street. Edwin squared his shoulders as Georgine moved closer.

Further east, they entered the clothier’s district and soon reached the East Wallflower Shirt Factory. Edwin angled his sister around a lamplighter and opened the factory door for her. Women sat at sewing machines and men worked at other machines, all of which made noise to make the ears ring. Floor managers stalked the aisles keeping the workers productive. To the far side of the building, a staircase led up to an office whose windows overlooked the production floor. Edwin and his sister sought their father out there.

“Mr. Hetherington is among the seamstresses,” the secretary said and directed them back downstairs.

Was he? Edwin hadn’t seen him as they passed through. He touched his sister’s shoulder. “Wait here.”

He found his father speaking to a seamstress, and testing out the balance wheel on her sewing machine.

The woman nodded a greeting and his father blinked, taking him in.

His father stood a scant inch taller than Edwin and had strawberry blond hair shot through with hints of silver. He wore it so long it brushed his collar, as opposed to Edwin’s own closely-shorn hair. Deep-set crinkles lined the light skin under his eyes. A slight hint of redness tinged his straight nose and made Edwin think he’d suffered a sneezing fit not too long ago. When his father finished speaking with the young woman he met up with Edwin in the middle of the aisle.

“What are you doing here, son?” A quick glance to the room behind and Edwin guessed, from the widening of his eyes, that he had spotted his daughter. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight, children. I thought you had some party to attend.”

Edwin’s mouth quirked in annoyance. “Da, I’m not a child.”

“Yer always mine, whatever your age, boy.”

Edwin knew this old argument. His father only repeated what he always called them. In front of his employees, however, it made Edwin a little uncomfortable. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

His father took them both in. Georgine dipped her head and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Whether she did so out of shyness or coyness, Edwin didn’t know. “Of course,” his father said. “In my office.”

His father enfolded Georgine in his arms and kissed her cheek. “My dear girl, how are you, tonight?”

As she answered his query, their father led them to his office. He settled Georgine in the nearest chair to the door and Edwin took the second empty one, his back to the shop windows. To the far side of his father’s desk, a set of blinds, over another set of windows, blocked out the streetlights.

“Now then. Did the bride and groom kick you out? Sure, I can’t say I blame them.”

Georgine settled her skirts around her. “Da, Shane would never ‘kick us out’. The party is over for the evening.”

“With brides and grooms, one never knows.”

Edwin narrowed his eyes. “The new Mrs. MacIntyre is the pinnacle of virtue, I’m assured. I didn’t come here to speak about her. I’m sure you’re aware Mr. Vassyr has resurfaced?”

His father’s back grew rigid. “Miles Vassyr? I am. What of him? The old bugger finally died then, has he?”

Georgine scoffed. “Da, I understand you’re not the least bit fond of him, but … language.”

“Forgive me, my dear. Why d’ya ask about him?”

Edwin pulled Vassyr’s letter from his coat pocket. “We ran into him, and he says he has an offer for us of some sort.” Edwin tapped his finger against the envelope. “I must say, I’m curious about it.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not sure why he’s asking me—”

“Because I turned him down.”

Edwin put the letter in his pocket. “He gave us a hint, but I don’t understand why you refused him.”

“Do you not remember what Vassyr’s done?” His father muttered the question, and then spoke a little louder. “Have you told the people you associate with of our history?”

“Some of it.”

“So the courts know they’ve an Irish-born solicitor among them? My, how that must thrill them when an Irish criminal comes before the judge.”

Edwin remained silent.

“I see,” his father said. “Then you understand why I told him to shove off.”

“No one would fault you for that, but aren’t you tempted at all by his offer?”

“Not in the slightest, and if the two of you know what’s good for you, neither will you be.”

This was going nowhere. Edwin had hoped his father would be more reasonable. “Why not?”

“What if I told you that old Vassyr wished to return our property at the price of marrying his nephew to Georgine? The boy is a little devil, if you’d like to know. I happen to hear he’s developed quite sordid tastes, as well. Ones I refuse to subject you to, if I’m told the true extent of his proclivities. Would you rather him, or to remain unwed, dear girl?”

Georgine gasped. “Sordid? I think I’ll stay a maiden a while longer.”

Her father nodded. “That’s one of many reasons I refused him, my girl. Come, children, it’s getting late and I must get back to supervise the day’s shut down.” He strolled to the door and Edwin rose from the chair. Their father led them down the stairs and to the factory doors, kissed Georgine’s cheek. “Put Vassyr and his offer out of your minds. Likely, he just wants to make sport of us.”

“But—”

“There’s nothing we owe that man, not even his redemption.”

Edwin thought over his father’s viewpoint for the rest of the night. Why on earth did Mr. Vassyr want to offer his nephew to Georgine? There must be more to his offer than a desire for forgiveness. Was his father right, and the man wished to torture their family further? Several times that night, the question returned to his mind. The curiosity was too great to leave unanswered. Edwin thought, at the very least, it worth a visit to hear Vassyr out. Then, he’d know how to phrase his refusal.

Edwin exited his townhouse into a light fog flitting through town. A few steps away, a thought occurred. Before he’d bumped into Vassyr, yesterday, Jera wanted to ask him something about Georgine.

Cursing to himself for putting her off, he stopped to pull a nub of a pencil from his jacket pocket and a small notepad. With this, he scribbled a note to remember to ask at dinner if Georgine knew what she referred to.

He headed off through the warm morning streets, making first for his office. Thin, with a slim oval face and glasses perched on his nose, their law clerk opened the office. “Millhouse, I’d like you to look into someone for me. The truth of his reputation.”

Milhouse pushed his glasses up his wide nose. “I’ll start tonight.”

“Right now, if possible. I know you’ve a busy day, but it may be important.”

“Yes sir. Let me get your files for today’s depositions and then I’ll start.”

They entered the office and Edwin read over the documents for the day’s depositions. As he did so, Millhouse called his attention. “Sir, there’s a message for you.”

The clerk handed him an embossed envelope. Edwin thanked him as he accepted and opened it. Inside, he found a sheet of fine notepaper with Vassyr’s handwriting scrawled across it.

Dear Hetherington,

I’m sorry but I must postpone our meeting. I’ll send for you at my next convenient date.

Edwin re-read the note, wondering at the man’s audacity. He’ll send for me? Who did Vassyr think he was?

Would you like to see how this meeting goes? What favor this fellow wants of Edwin? You can find a copy of Engaging the Heiress at Amazon in Ebook and in paperback: