The Secrets Of Wiscombe Chase. Christine Merrill

with watercolour landscapes. He stepped closer to admire the work and started in surprise.

      He knew the place in the picture. He had been there himself. It was Talavera de la Reina in Spain. But the picture was of the sleepy village and not the backdrop for battle. The next was of the Nive flowing through France. And here was Waterloo. Beautiful places all, not that he’d had the time to enjoy the scenery when he was there. But this was how he wanted to think of them. The land had healed. The blood he had shed was not muddying the dust. It had soaked into the ground and left only grass and wildflowers as memorial to the dead.

      As he admired the work, he felt relaxed and at peace, as though he had finally come home. This was his room, totally and completely. If he had written his wishes out and sent them ahead, he could not have been more pleased with the results. The years of sacrifice had been rewarded with a haven of tranquillity. He could leave the war behind and become the man he had once intended to be.

      This must have been Lillian’s doing. No mere servant would have dared to take such liberties. Hadn’t Mrs Fitz said it had been his wife’s orders to keep the place locked until his return? But how had she known what he would like? How had she managed this without consulting him?

      Most importantly, why had she done it?

       Chapter Five

      ‘The diamonds, or the pearls, madam?’ The maid was holding one earring to each ear, so Lily could judge the effect in her dressing table mirror.

      She frowned back at her own reflection. She wished to look her best for the captain’s first night at home. Despite their current difficulties, she could not help the wistful desire that he might admire her looks and perhaps even comment on them. When he’d proposed she had been a foolish young girl, so supremely confident in her ability to enthral him that she hadn’t even bothered to try. She certainly wouldn’t have needed jewels to enhance her appearance. But now that he could compare her to half the señoritas and mademoiselles of Europe she was obsessing over each detail in an effort to win his praise.

      And what message did it send to wear jewellery that he had not bought for her? The diamonds had been a gift from Father for her last birthday. But suppose he suspected they’d come from a lover? It would be better to wear the pearls she’d inherited from her mother. She’d been wearing them on the day the captain had proposed.

      Would he remember them? Even if he did not, they were modest enough that he could not accuse her of profligate spending or accepting gifts from strangers. She pointed to the pearl drops and the maid affixed them and brought out the matching necklace.

      On her left hand, she wore the simple gold ring that had belonged to his mother. When they’d married, he’d had nothing else to offer her but the ring and the house. His fortunes had improved since then. She was not sure how much money he had sent back from Portugal, but his banker in London had assured her that any bills she submitted would be paid without question. She hoped he was a rich man. He deserved to live comfortably after sacrificing a third of his life to the army.

      But she had done nothing to earn a share of his wealth and had done her best not to abuse his generosity. She had taken very little from the accounts for frivolities, preferring to make sparing use of the allowance that had been provided for her. One of the first lessons learned as a member of the North family was to keep back a portion of any success for the moment when things went wrong and a quick escape was necessary. To that end, she had a tightly rolled pile of bank notes hidden in her dresser that not even her father was aware of.

      The gown she was wearing had been one of her rare purchases, a London design that had arrived not two weeks ago. The pearls did not suit it at all, but they would have to do.

      There was a knock on the bedroom door and her brother entered without waiting for her welcome.

      She did not bother to turn to him, frowning at his reflection. ‘Such rude behaviour is why my door is almost always locked.’

      ‘Surely you have nothing to worry about, with your husband in the next room.’ Ronald was smiling back at her, as if he thought the prospect of rescue was unlikely, even if she needed it.

      ‘You have more to fear from Captain Wiscombe than I do,’ she said, amazed that he would joke about such a thing.

      ‘The day will never come when I can’t out-think Gerry Wiscombe.’ Ronald’s arrogance was undimmed by recent events. ‘Nothing he said to you today after I left the room will make me believe otherwise.’

      This was probably his way of requesting a report of her conversation with the captain. She ignored it, turning her attention back to her maid so that they might finish her toilette.

      Ronald made no move to leave her, leaning against the wall by the door and staring as she made Jenny re-pin her braids and fuss over the ribbons at her shoulders until it was plain to everyone in the room that she was stalling. At last, she gave up and dismissed the maid, remaining silent until the door was shut and she could hear the girl’s retreating footsteps at the far end of the hall.

      ‘Well?’ her brother said, arms folded over his chest. ‘What did he say to you?’

      She stared back at him, expressionless. ‘If the words were meant for you, he’d have spoken them in your presence.’

      ‘Ho-ho,’ Ronald responded with an ugly smirk. ‘You mean to side with him in this?’

      She blinked innocently. ‘Was that not the intention, when you and Father gave me to him?’

      ‘I doubt Father expected that the day would come when you would throw your own flesh and blood to the wolves to save yourself.’

      ‘Throw you to the wolves?’ She laughed. ‘If Captain Wiscombe has a problem with you or Father, I will have no say in it.’

      ‘But what about your son?’

      ‘What of him?’ she said. Ronald had always been the least subtle of the Norths, trying to force information from her rather than waiting for it to be revealed. She turned back to the mirror, giving full attention to her appearance and none to his simmering anger.

      ‘Gerry did not seem overly surprised by his presence.’

      ‘Why should he be? We are married. There is a child.’ Ronald had hinted his suspicions before. Now was not the time to confirm them.

      ‘Your child was born nearly ten months after your husband left for the army.’

      ‘You exaggerate,’ she said, adding a touch more powder to her cheeks. She shouldn’t have bothered. The addition took her from perfection to unhealthy pallor.

      ‘When Stewart’s next birthday arrives, even a man as stupid as Gerry Wiscombe will count out the months and have questions for you.’

      She turned to glare at him. ‘My husband is no fool.’

      At this, her brother laughed out loud. ‘So sorry to offend you, little sister. If that is what you wish, I will try not to think of him as the poor gull who I tricked into marrying you.’

      ‘You tricked him?’ Now she was the one who doubted.

      ‘I told him you had seen him from afar. That it was practically a love match and that all it would take to win one of the most celebrated beauties of the Season was a show of courage on his part and an offer. He asked for your hand. Then, dutifully as a child, he ran off to war to impress you.’

      ‘That is how you remember it?’ Perhaps Gerald had shown a different face to her family than he had to her. Though his proposal had been gallant enough, she’d got no sense that he was dazzled by her beauty. He’d been a man with a plan. Marriage to her had been little more than a point of intersection between his goals and those of her father.

      Her brother was still smiling at the memory. ‘I had never met a fellow so easily persuaded or so quick to act against his own best interests as Gerry Wiscombe the day he