would have returned a sharp rejoinder, except the butler returned and indicated in his princely way that they should make themselves comfortable in the sitting room.
‘Our fortunes seem to be shifting ever so slightly,’ Bright murmured when the butler left them alone there. ‘Brimley. I wish I could remember.’
They waited a long while, long enough for Sally to overcome her terrors and walk around the room, admiring the fine paintings. When the admiral began sneaking looks at his timepiece, the door opened to admit Lord Brimley himself. She glanced at her husband, but saw no recognition in his eyes.
‘I am Brimley,’ the man said, inclining his head towards them. ‘Admiral Bright, accept my condolences in the purchase of that miserable estate.’ He smiled at them both, but there was no warmth in his eyes. ‘I can only assume that since you have a wife—and a lovely one, I might add—that you intend to paint the rooms.’
‘I do, my lord, since I wish to keep my wife,’ Bright said. ‘As a seaman not long on land, though, I am a bit at a loss how to find workers.’
‘You need a proper steward.’
‘My wife thinks I need my head examined,’ Bright said frankly. ‘But the view…oh, the view. Can you see the ocean from your estate?’
The marquis did not answer for a long moment. Sally watched in surprise and then consternation as a whole range of emotions crossed his face. ‘I rejoice, Admiral, that I cannot,’ he said finally, as though each word was tugged from his mouth by iron pincers.
She glanced at her husband, noting his frown. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
‘The ocean is not to everyone’s taste, I imagine,’ she said, filling the awkward void.
‘It is not to mine.’
The embarrassing silence was filled by the return of the butler and a maid, who deposited a tray on the small table between them. The marquis indicated Sally should pour, and she did.
They sipped their tea. When the silence was nearly unendurable, the marquis turned slightly to face Admiral Bright. ‘You do not know who I am?’ he asked, his tone frigid.
‘My lord, I do not.’
‘Perhaps you will know this name: Thomas Place.’
Admiral Bright set down his tea cup with a click. ‘I know that name as well as my own, my lord. Was he your son?’
‘My only child.’
‘Lieutenant Thomas Place, Viscount Malden,’ Bright murmured. He stood up and walked to the window and back again, the marquis’s eyes on him. ‘He made sure that none of us would use his title, so he was Mr Place to me. I had to bark at him a time or two, but he was a good lad. I was his captain.’
‘I know you were, Admiral,’ the marquis said, rising to join Bright by the window. ‘I have followed your career with some interest.’ He looked at Sally, and she could see only infinite sorrow in his eyes now. ‘Lady Bright, I hated your husband for nearly twenty years. Until three years ago, as a matter of fact.’
Sally looked at both men, her eyes wide. She tried to interpret her husband’s expression, except that there was no expression now, only the uncompromising gaze of a man caught off guard and righting himself by the greatest of efforts. She rose, or tried to, except that the admiral had returned to her side and was gently pressing down on her shoulder with his one good hand.
‘No fears, my dear,’ he said and leaned down to put his cheek next to hers, for a brief moment. She found the sudden gesture reassuring beyond words and relaxed. He lightened the pressure on her shoulder, but did not remove his hand.
‘Say on, my lord,’ he said, his voice firm and very much in command.
As Sally watched, horrified, the marquis seemed to wilt before her eyes. Her husband must have noticed it, too, because he returned to the man by the window and put his hand under his arm to support him. Without a word, he led the marquis back to his seat. Sally did rise then, and went to sit beside Lord Brimley. If he were one of my old ladies, I would do this, she thought, as she quickly removed her bonnet, set it aside and took a napkin from the tray. As he watched her, his eyes dull, she dipped it in the tea and dabbed gently at his brow. ‘There now, my lord. Do you wish me to summon your butler?’
Her simple act seemed to rouse him. He shook his head. ‘No. No. Bedders would only act like my old maid aunt, and worry me to death.’
‘Your wife then, my lord? Should we summon her?’
‘My dear, she is dead these past three years. And that is what I need to tell your husband.’ He patted the seat on the other side of him. ‘Sit down, lad,’ he ordered, as though there were many more years between them.
‘I…uh…I really don’t know what to say, my lord,’ Bright began, looking mystified.
‘Of course you do not. You never knew us.’
They were both silent. Sally yearned to jump into the conversation. She fought down a fierce urge to defend her husband, an urge so strong that it startled her, considering the briefness of their acquaintance. She looked down and noticed her hands were balled into fists. She glanced up at her husband, who had been watching the gesture, again with that unreadable expression.
The marquis spoke, looking at her. ‘Lady Bright, my son served under your husband on the…the Caprice…was it not? I thought I would never forget. Considering how many years have rolled over the matter, perhaps it is not so surprising.’
‘The Caprice. My first command. We took the ship to the Antipodes. We were not at war with France or Spain then, and our assignment was to ferry a naturalist—one of Sir Joseph Banks’s protégés—to find something called a fairy tern.’
‘You were successful, I believe, at least according to the last letter I ever received from my boy.’ The marquis’s voice broke on the last word, and Sally felt her heart turn over. She took his hand. He offered no resistance to her touch.
‘Yes. We accomplished our orders and were returning to Plymouth,’ Bright said. ‘We needed to take on food and water, so we docked at Valparaiso, not knowing that Spain and England were at war again.’
He paused and gazed out the window for a long moment. ‘And there my boy died in the fight that followed, as you clawed your way out of the harbour,’ Lord Brimley said. He looked at Sally then. ‘Do you have sons, my dear?’
‘None living,’ she whispered. Bright reached across the marquis to touched her hand.
‘I am sorry for you both,’ Lord Brimley replied. ‘I know the feeling. If I thought I could do it and not collapse, I would summon Bedders to fetch the letter of condolence your husband wrote to me, twenty-three years ago. I can quote it: “I am relieved to be able to inform you…”’
He could not go on, but Bright could. ‘“…that your son’s death was quick and painless.”’
The words hung in the room like a powerful stench. The old man raised his head again. ‘Was it a lie? Did you lie to me at such a moment?’
Sally let out the breath she had been holding, her eyes on her husband. She could almost hear the tension in the room humming like a wire stretched taut and snapped.
‘I did, my lord.’
The marquis must have been holding his breath, too, because it came out in a sudden whoosh that made Sally jump. ‘I thought you had, and I hated you for it. I thought you a coward for not having the courage to tell the truth about the last moments of a sterling lad dearer to my heart than any other creature on earth.’
Bright said nothing. He looked at the floor as though wishing it would open and swallow him. It was Sally’s turn to reach across the marquis and touch his hand.
‘Do you want me to tell you?’ he said finally.
‘I