"Lady South?" The name hung in the air like a misplaced puzzle piece.
I blinked, confusion washing over me. "Excuse me?"
The distinguished older man—Richard Beaumont, my mind supplied from distant memory of business magazines—seemed to catch himself. His wife squeezed his arm with sudden urgency.
"I—forgive me," he stammered, composing himself. "Miss Johnson. You look remarkably like someone we once knew."
His wife stepped forward smoothly. "I'm Elizabeth Beaumont, and this is my husband, Edward. Please excuse his confusion. It's been a long day at the hospital."
Nathaniel's hand found the small of my back, a subtle gesture of protection that made me stand straighter.
"Juliana Johnson," I offered, extending my hand. "And this is my husband, Nathaniel Ricardo."
Edward Beaumont's eyes widened slightly at the name Ricardo, but he recovered quickly. "A pleasure. Are you here visiting someone?"
