Chapter 9

They departed in a whirl of black skirts, coloured skirts, reticules, bags and bonnets. Isaiah smiled at the fire. He knew very well why Gillian bestowed such affectionate care on her aunt. But as Aunt Fanteague did not know, and as she had, like many rocky natures, a great, though concealed, craving for affection, she was touched. She was glad she had brought Gillian a present. ‘When I unpack,’ she said, as she instinctively moved the dressing-table to look for dust underneath, running her finger over the polished…