"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," Sarah said, setting her medical bag down on the floor near the parlor door.

"Mrs. Brandt, what brings you here?" he asked anxiously. "Nothing wrong with Mrs. Blackwell, I hope."

Sarah managed not to groan. "As a matter of fact, I understand that Mrs. Blackwell is well enough to receive visitors today. I was just going in to see her. I'm sure she'd be delighted to receive you, too," she lied without remorse.

As she had expected, Potter was thrilled at the prospect of meeting with Letitia at last. "I wonder if she would be up to speaking with me privately. There are matters of some delicacy I need to discuss with her as soon as possible."

He was fairly trembling with anticipation of such an audience.

"I'm sure she needs to consult with you as well," Sarah said shamelessly. "Shall we go in?"

"I should announce you, ma'am," the maid said, wringing her hands as she obviously remembered the last time when she'd failed to do so, with such disastrous results.

"Nonsense," Sarah said recklessly. "I don't need an introduction, and Mr. Potter is practically a member of the family."

Before the maid could protest again, Sarah pushed open the parlor doors.

It was difficult to say who was more surprised. Peter Dudley, who had been sitting on the sofa with Letitia, jumped to his feet. Letitia gasped aloud and nearly dropped her baby, whom she was holding gingerly. Amos Potter gasped, too, although Sarah wasn't quite sure what had surprised him more-the presence of a strange man in Letitia's parlor or the picturesque family tableau they made, with both father and son's coppery hair glowing in the afternoon sunshine.

Sarah felt a stab of guilt. She had merely intended to embarrass Letitia by allowing Potter to catch her with Dudley. She'd never expected them to have the baby there. Now, of course, Potter would figure out the whole sordid story in a moment, unless he was far less intelligent than Sarah had judged him to be.

"Amos," Letitia exclaimed, clutching awkwardly at the baby so he wouldn't fall to the floor. She had not developed much confidence in handling him yet, probably from lack of practice.

Sarah hurried to assist her, but Dudley beat her to it. He took the baby from her arms and cradled him awkwardly. Which was, unfortunately, the worst thing he could have done. If there was any chance Potter hadn't noticed the resemblance between them before, he couldn't miss it now. The two redheads were no more than a foot apart.

"Letitia," Potter said in a somewhat strangled voice. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman. Is he a ... a close relative of yours?"

Bless him, Potter was still clinging to a last shred of hope.

The baby, probably feeling insecure in Dudley's uncertain grasp, began to wail. Dudley tried bouncing him, which only made him cry louder.

"Amos, this is Peter Dudley. He ... he's an old family friend," Letitia lied, raising her voice to be heard above the baby's squalling. "Mr. Potter is ... was Edmund's business partner," she added to Dudley.

Sarah stood back for another moment, observing everyone's reactions. She told herself this was what Malloy would have done, if he were here, although she doubted he would have enjoyed the scene quite as much as she was. But then, he felt sorry for poor, sweet Letitia, too. Men.

Finally, she'd had her fill, and she stepped forward and took the baby from Dudley's arms. She crooned to him, and his cries quieted instantly. No one but she seemed to notice the child at all now. She was relieved to see that he seemed to be gaining weight. His little cheeks had filled out, and his arms were developing dimples.

"It ... it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," Dudley said without much enthusiasm, extending his right hand now that he was no longer encumbered with the baby.

Potter pretended not to notice his hand, or the rest of him either, for that matter. He turned all of his attention to Letitia. "You're looking well, Letitia," he said. His voice was strained, but he managed a smile for her.

She favored him with one in return. It was the kind of smile women like Letitia were trained from birth to offer in uncomfortable social situations. If a woman was pretty enough, she could get herself out of almost anything with that smile. This situation would certainly be a test of its effectiveness. "I'm feeling much better, thank you, Amos. It's kind of you to call. Won't you sit down?"

Potter hesitated a moment. He obviously wanted to take a seat beside Letitia on the sofa, but Dudley stood in the way. He'd have to shoulder him aside, and although he might want to do that, he decided to concede defeat and took the chair on her other side. Dudley sat back down on the sofa, although he was probably sitting a little farther away from Letitia now than he had been before Sarah and Amos came in.

No one paid the slightest attention to Sarah, so she sat down in the chair across from Letitia and Dudley, settling the baby in her arms. He seemed perfectly content, so she was able to devote herself to observing her other companions.

For a moment no one spoke. Dudley was plainly too socially inept to know how to handle an awkward situation, and Letitia's social instruction had apparently not included handling such an oddly mismatched assortment of visitors.

Finally, Potter said, "I would very much like to speak with you privately, Letitia. There are some urgent business matters about Edmund's estate which I need to discuss with you immediately."

"Good heavens, I don't know what possible help I could be to you on business matters," Letitia said. "I don't know anything at all about them. I'm sure you should do whatever you think is best."

Potter gave Dudley a glance that said he wished him in Hades, and then he looked back at Letitia and spoke with the patience of one addressing a slow child. "I'm afraid it's not that simple," he said apologetically. "There are some things you need to know, things that will affect your future."

"Oh, yes," she said with sudden interest. "I've been giving the matter of my future some thought, and I've decided I want to sell this house, Amos."

Potter winced, and Sarah felt a measure of pity for him. The news he would have to break to her would be shocking. "Are you planning to move back to your father's house?" he asked hopefully.

Letitia's gaze drifted to Dudley, whose fair complexion showed every emotion. He turned bright red and dropped his gaze.

"I ... I haven't really decided yet," Letitia said. "But in any case, I don't need such a grand house anymore."

"Yes, of course, well, that's something we'll need to discuss privately," he emphasized again. Although he was speaking to Letitia, this time he was watching Dudley. He seemed finally to be getting the entire picture, and he clearly didn't like it one bit. "Mr. Dudley, I don't recall ever hearing Mrs. Blackwell speak of you. How long have you known her?"

"I..." Dudley looked to Letitia for guidance, but she just frowned. She wasn't certain how much to tell Potter either. "I've known her for... for several years."

Potter fingered the Phi Beta Kappa key that hung from his watch chain. "When I was at Harvard, I knew a fellow named Dudley. From Providence. Would you by any chance be a relation?"

"No, I don't think so," Dudley admitted, visibly impressed by the mention of Harvard. "I mean, certainly not."

"Letitia said she knew you from her hometown. Is that where you still live?" Potter inquired.

"No, I ..." Again he looked at Letitia, and again he got no assistance. "I live here in the city now. I... I saw the notice of Dr. Blackwell's death in the newspaper and came to pay my condolences."

Sarah hadn't believed that lie the last time he told it, and Potter seemed equally skeptical. He glanced at Sarah-or rather at the baby she still held-and back at Dudley. "I hope you've found a suitable position here. If not, I have many connections. Perhaps I can be of assistance in locating one for you."

"That's very kind of you, Amos," Letitia quickly replied, "but Mr. Dudley has an excellent position."

"Oh, really?" Potter asked skeptically. Dudley's clothes alone bespoke poverty, and his manner betrayed his lack of breeding. "And where are you situated?"

Dudley stammered the name of the bank where he worked. It was a small establishment, and he was understandably embarrassed to name it. Sarah supposed his position was far from excellent, too.

Potter frowned. "I don't believe I know where that bank is located."

Dudley gave him the address, looking even more ashamed.

"I see," Potter said, his tone telling Dudley that he saw everything about him. The young man had, in Potter's opinion, no right whatsoever to be sitting in Letitia Blackwell's parlor. If Potter had, indeed, figured out that Dudley had also fathered her child, Sarah couldn't even imagine what else he must be thinking.

Sarah imagined she saw hate radiating from Potter's dumpy frame, but perhaps she was being fanciful. Did he know that Letitia had been running away with a lover when she'd been injured? Had he been able to put the whole story together in his mind? Would that change his adoration of Letitia Blackwell? Such a response would be logical, of course, but for some reason, men never resorted to logic in their dealings with women.

"How long have you lived in our fair city, Mr. Dudley," Potter asked. He wasn't very good at feigning amiability, but Dudley wasn't very perceptive either.

"Almost two years, now, I guess it is. It's very different from the country, but I'm getting used to it."

"Does your family like the city or do they prefer living in Westchester?"

"I ... I don't have any family," Dudley said, a little disconcerted.

"You're not married, then?" Potter said in apparent surprise. "What about your parents? Do they come down to the city to visit you?"

"I ... No, I ..."

"Mr. Dudley's parents are dead," Letitia quickly explained.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Potter said, still addressing Dudley. "No wonder you were so sensitive to Letitia's grief. You were very kind to visit her. Were you acquainted with Dr. Blackwell at all?"

"No, I... We never met." It was apparent that Dudley was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the endless questions. Sarah wasn't sure what Potter was trying to determine, but perhaps he wasn't either. Maybe he just wanted to find out whatever he could in an effort to identify some weakness in the man whom he instinctively recognized as a rival for Letitia's hand.

"It's a pity you never met Dr. Blackwell," Potter was saying. "He was very gifted. Letitia wouldn't be sitting here with us if he hadn't helped her after her terrible accident. Isn't that right, Letitia?"

"I ... Yes," she admitted reluctantly. She was also uncomfortable. Sarah imagined that talking about your dead husband in front of the lover with whom you had betrayed him might be difficult. Add to this that Dudley had been involved in her accident, and she must be wishing the floor would open and swallow her up.

"We'll always be grateful for what he did to cure Letitia," Dudley said in an effort to be agreeable.

But Potter didn't miss the fact that Dudley had used her given name. He didn't like it, either. "Apparently someone wasn't grateful for something he did, or Edmund would still be alive," he noted.

"Do we have to speak of Edmund's death?" Letitia protested weakly.

"Does it upset you?" Potter asked in apparent concern.

"It was so... so unpleasant," Letitia said.

"Murder is always unpleasant," Sarah offered, and everyone looked at her in surprise. They had apparently forgotten she was there.

"But this one was particularly so," Potter said with an odd disregard for Letitia's sensibilities. "It must have been horrible for you, finding him that way."

Letitia had the grace to look pale, but perhaps she was just remembering all the blood. Heaven knew, she probably hadn't shed many tears over her husband's demise. "I shall never be able to get that image out of my head," she said faintly.

Instinctively, both men leaned forward to comfort her. Fearing they might collide, Sarah quickly spoke up. "Mr. Granger is quite upset that he didn't get home first to spare you that shock."

The men both caught themselves before actually touching Letitia, but Sarah wasn't sure if this was because of their own good sense or if her interruption had jolted them back to propriety.

Potter looked at her in confusion, probably having once again forgotten she was there. "Who is Mr. Granger?"

"The butler," Sarah said, smiling innocently. "He takes his responsibilities very seriously, and he's usually home before Mrs. Blackwell on Wednesdays. But he said she came home earlier than usual that day, which is why she was the one to, uh, to find Dr. Blackwell. He's actually made himself sick worrying over it."

"I didn't feel well that afternoon," Letitia remembered. "That's why I came home earlier than usual."

She glanced at Dudley, who was red again. Neither of them wished to discuss Letitia's activities of that afternoon, especially in front of Potter. Sarah wondered if there was a particular reason, other than the obvious one of Letitia's infidelity.

Why had Letitia come home early that day? Had the lovers quarreled? But if Dudley wasn't there-if he was off murdering Blackwell-they couldn't have. Perhaps they'd quarreled afterward, or even before. Or perhaps Letitia had grown too anxious waiting for Dudley to complete his task and had misjudged the time. Curiosity could have drawn her into the study even if she'd known her husband lay dead in there. She would have no idea how horrible the scene would be. She'd probably imagined Blackwell neatly laid out, in dignity and repose, like a corpse in a coffin.

Fortunately, the baby started fussing again, bringing an end to her fancies. Malloy would certainly find some flaw with her scenario, but Sarah thought it merited consideration, at least. She still liked the theory of the desperate lovers disposing of an unwanted husband, and neither of them had a dependable alibi for the afternoon of the murder. Besides, she liked them less and less each time she saw them, she decided as she tried to soothe the fretful child.

Letitia looked askance at the baby. "I should send for the nurse," she said. "He shouldn't be here anyway."

She was right, of course. No lady of her station would have brought her infant into the front parlor when she had a visitor. Unless, of course, her visitor was the baby's father and she'd wanted him to see the child.

"He's a... a handsome boy," Potter said without much conviction. "What are you going to call him?"

"I haven't decided yet," she said with another glance at Dudley.

Potter frowned in disapproval. "You must name him after his father. Surely there is no other logical thing to do under the circumstances."

This time Letitia colored, but she lifted her chin defiantly. "I may do that," she said.

Dudley made a small sound, probably of surprise, and Potter's mouth thinned to a bloodless line.

Sarah was enjoying this thoroughly, but the baby was beginning to root, his hungry mouth searching her bodice in vain for sustenance. Although Letitia had said she should call for the nurse, she had made no move to do so. Sarah gathered the child up and carried him over to where the bell rope hung and managed to pull it to summon a maid. Letitia didn't even seem to notice.

Potter was still glaring at Letitia. "We must put an announcement in the papers about the birth," he said. "Edmund's clients will want to ... to acknowledge the child." Trust Potter to be thinking about the practical aspects of the situation. Considering the condition of Blackwell's estate, a few monetary gifts would be well received.

"I don't want any of them to know. I don't need anything from those people," Letitia insisted.

"But they'll want to send gifts," Potter insisted. He sounded almost desperate. Sarah began to wonder if he needed the money even more than Letitia did. At least she had her father to fall back on. Sarah was sure Potter had no wealthy relatives in his family tree.

"I don't care if they do or not," Letitia said petulantly. "I don't want anything from those people. I had to let them gawk at me before, but I don't have to even see them now if I don't want to, and I don't want to."

"I've never known you to be so unreasonable, Letitia," Potter chided her. "It isn't very becoming."

She gaped at him. "And I've never known you to be so imperious, Amos. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?"

"I'm only looking out for your best interests," he defended himself. "Someone must. Edmund left things in a terrible state."

"That doesn't give you any reason to be rude to me," Letitia reminded him. "I'm not responsible for what Edmund did or didn't do."

Potter was instantly contrite, probably because there was no advantage to being anything else. "I didn't intend ... You have mistaken my meaning, Letitia. It's just that I'm so concerned for you ..."

"If you were truly concerned, you would be a great deal kinder to me, Amos. I have been through a very difficult time, and my health is still precarious." She emphasized this by dabbing her nose with the handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.

"Forgive me, Letitia. I forgot myself," he said, finally giving her the apology she was demanding. "It's just... You look so well, it's hard to remember you are so lately recovered from your confinement."

"I'm not recovered," Letitia informed him. "In fact, I'm surprised Mrs. Brandt isn't taking me to task for being up at all." She gave Sarah a challenging look, which Sarah returned with a smile. She was still standing by the parlor door, waiting for a maid to come and take the baby.

Sarah thought of several things she could say in reply, but all of them would have gotten her banned for life from the Blackwell home. "I'm sure you are the best judge of your ability to entertain visitors," she demurred.

This pleased Letitia for some reason. "Yes, you're right," she said, and turned back to Potter. "Thank you so much for coming to see me, Amos, but I'm afraid I'm growing quite tired and will have to bid you good afternoon."

Potter's face fell. "I ... But I need to speak with you privately," he reminded her almost desperately, "about matters of grave importance."

"Not today. I couldn't possibly deal with anything important. Could I, Mrs. Brandt?" she asked in challenge.

"Certainly not," Sarah replied obligingly. She still needed access to the Blackwell home if she was going to find the killer, and Letitia's favor was the only entree she had.

"There, you see? I hope you will call again in a few days," Letitia said to Potter, who could no longer ignore the fact that he was being dismissed.

He got reluctantly to his feet, then looked suspiciously at Dudley. "Mr. Dudley, perhaps we can share a cab," he suggested.