Chapter Seventeen

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The colonel's words stayed with me as I walked along the edge of the room again. If he meant for me to feel some kind of pity for what Ingram had done, he was well off the mark. Perhaps I didn't know desperation, but nothing was reason enough to commit treason or to hurt other people.

At the same time, his murderer could not be allowed to go free. I hoped the investigator all the luck in the world in finding the man responsible.

When I left the Pump Room, I scanned the street. To my right, I finally spotted Ward in what seemed to be a close conversation with Mr. Harper. Both appeared serious as they spoke.

Odd. I hadn't realized they were acquaintances.

I went towards them and they broke off whatever conversation they were having. "Bywood," Mr. Harper said with a nod. "And how did you find the Pump Room today? Quiet without Miss Dunbar to chase you down?"

"Indeed." I glanced between them. "She was harmless, though, no matter what suspicions you had Ward."

Ward's eyes flitted over to Harper and then back. "Well, she's gone now," my friend said. "You'll have to find something else to complain about."

His words felt like a low blow. I didn't always complain. Did I? "I'm sorry I have offended so much," I said stiffly. I nodded to them both. "I will bid you both good day."

Turning on my heel, I strode away before either of them could say anything. If I'd expected to relax at Bath after the trying weeks at home, I hadn't found it. Why did misfortune dog my steps? Was I simply a stupid man who thought he knew more than he really did?

It only took a few blocks for my head to clear. What right did I have to get mad at Ward? I had been worrying over Pearsend since I found myself with the estate. It was reasonable to think I had come across as complaining more often than not, and who wouldn't get annoyed with that?

I reached Pulteney Bridge where I took a break. Leaning against the railing, I stared down at the moving water. I had brought this whole mess of a situation on myself, though not intentionally, and I had no idea what to do to make things any better.

What would my mother think of this whole situation?

Well, the one thing I knew for certain, Mama would scold me for being rude to my friends. She would disapprove of how I had won Pearsend, though I couldn't begin to guess what advice she would give me to manage the estate. Mama played card games, of course. What lady or gentleman did not? She wouldn't like how high the stakes had gotten in the game and scold me for drinking too much.

And that's where I couldn't be sure what my mother would think. She would not have liked Miss Dunbar. If I knew my tender-hearted mother at all, she would have found some way to help Miss Anderson find peace. She would have shown an interest in those around her.

Should I have done the same? Could I have made a difference? I knew I had annoyed Miss Anderson, and Mother would most certainly have taken me to task for not being kinder to a woman still mourning a loved one.

Shaking my head, I straightened up. I wouldn't even bother to wonder what my father would think of this. He hadn't even wanted me to come to Bath. Well, no one in my family had wanted me to come. How delighted they would be if they learned just how overwhelmed I had become and how much I'd started to regret coming.

"Well, youth is for making mistakes if nothing else," I said aloud.

A passing gentleman shot me a puzzled look. Right. Talking to oneself was not exactly sane behavior. I gave a nod and started walking. There was no specific destination in mind, mainly because I didn't want to see anyone.

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