Zechariah’s eyes gleamed, but he fixed his gloves as though to stall.

“Ah, you know,” he laughed. “Perhaps I am just a bit of a prude. You know – the child coming before the wedding, and the notice haphazardly somewhere in between. Am I going to make an expecting woman carry groceries? Of course not.”

Zechariah made no move to stop the man’s fussing over him, instead relishing the extra moments to drop hint after sordid hint about Alice’s sister.

“Thank you, thank you. You are too kind. I hope your wife is no longer … unwell?” he glanced to Jenny for ‘clarification’. “Soon.”