“Perfect,” Evander said, dry but not insincere. “Most distinguished, thank you,” he added, raising his teacup in salute and even managing a short laugh. He had never known misery loves company to be so true as now. Miss Clearwater’s company was easy though, natural; there was nothing irksome in her demeanour, and no well-meant but useless fare to try and cheer him up.

No, indeed; she was an expert at this. “I suppose I may as well give up on marriage now for good,” Evander considered, a natural continuation of the musings that had been swirling around his head all night. After this, that was really the only option – this, meaning his utter certainty Caroline had drowned. He’d spoken aloud, he realised belatedly, even if he had meant the resolution mostly for himself. So he glanced over at Miss Clearwater on her chaise, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I was really only marrying for Charity’s sake to begin with,” he confessed; and if it was too soon for the splash of brandy to have made it to his brain, Evander would blame his exhaustion for it instead. “But at least she’ll still have you.” He peered at her mock-sternly, as if to add so you mustn’t get married and leave her, then.

By the sounds of it, though, Miss Clearwater had faced her share of heartbreak and hardship, and seemed sensible enough to have also given up.

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