’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. ‘There are no Remenhams left. You are not my husband. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. “I want to be your friend,” he said. ‘Because,’ said Lady Bicknacre in the confidential manner of all matrons when passing on a tidbit of scandal, ‘Nicholas married against his father’s wishes and ran away. Wood and the waterman, meanwhile, proceeded in the direction of St.
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