Chapter Twenty-ThreeEliza
Feb'y 22nd
Ah, home at last! I breathed in the familiar beeswax aroma of my hallway, swept off my shoes and wiggled my toes in the parlour carpet. After bathing myself and the children, I supervised a splendid meal of roast beef and potatoes. When Alex came home, I flirted with him as a young and pretty coquette. But later, in bed, he claimed “I'm limp with fatigue,” and I understood.
Tucking the covers round him, I soothed, “You've been working too hard.”
I daren't mention my visit to Robert Troup, or the name of Ann Bates. I was still intent on finding out the truth behind those letters. But as Alex fell into slumber, I brimmed with confidence—no other woman could hold his interest.
I'd read in yesterday's papers that James Reynolds had been released from j
