“Why, Miss Blayse! I didn’t realize you were invited. It is so good to see you again.” She pulled Mira closer and gestured to the gentlemen. “I don’t believe you’ve met Silas Treadway.”
Silas grinned and some of his brown hair fell into his face.
“And this is Bertie Corbet,” Maureen said.
Bertie gave a slight bow, his dark beard masking his expression. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss..?”
“Samira Blayse,” Maureen answered for her. “We ran in similar circles in London.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Mira said.
“Now, Miss Blayse, what brings you to Bath?” Silas said.
“I’m visiting the Sherards,” Mira said, deciding that was the least complicated way of explaining her stay. “Ambrose Sherard and I are courting, you see.”
“Ah. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet.”
“We just arrived from London yesterday.”
Bertie pursed his lips. “He’s the detective, isn’t he?”
Mira’s eyes widened. They’d been so careful to keep his professional and personal lives separate.
“Detective?” Silas straightened.
“I saw him coming in,” Bertie said, “Doesn’t he work under the name Constantine?”
“I think I know who you’re talking about,” Mira said, mind racing for a way to maintain their story. “They do have a remarkable resemblance to one another.” She lowered hervoice. “Though you ought to know the Sherards dislike the comparison. They hate publicity and I can’t think of a more conspicuous profession.”
“Can you imagine?” Maureen said.
“I am sorry for interrupting your conversation,” Mira said, hoping to change the subject. “I only meant to stop in for a moment.”
“We were only talking of Mr. Treadway’s service in the Sudan,” Maureen said.
“You are in the army, Mr. Treadway?” Mira asked.
“I was honorably discharged last year due to an injury.”
“And he won’t tell me anything about what it was like,” Maureen said.
“It wouldn’t be appropriate for a lady to hear.” Silas smiled apologetically.
“The least you can tell me is what General Gordon was like.”
Silas shook his head. “I’m afraid I never had the opportunity to meet him.”
Maureen looked off towards the window, sobering considerably. “I remember hearing the news when he was killed.” She turned back to Silas, eyes brightening. “Did you know, my father was invited to take a trip to interview him about the conflict?”
“He was a journalist?” Silas asked. “I don’t believe I knew that.”
“One of the best,” Maureen said. “He worked with the foreign office, you know.”
“Is that so?” Silas said.
Mira picked up a plate, considering the various refreshments. “I’m sure the society in Bath is much more pleasant than the Sudan.”
“Quite different,” Silas said.
