The next portrait in the line was of Solomon Kinkaid, the last Earl of Harcourt, but this time he was an adult. His hair was too long for current fashion, his gaze a little bleary, as if the painter had caught him in a drunken moment. Based on all she knew about Jasper’s late brother, that was probably true. Everyone knew the previous earl was a wastrel and a libertine. He had caused many a scandal in the short course of his life and ultimately by the mode of his death.

And that was what Jasper was fighting against now. But still, as she stared at the other man, she could see he and Jasper had a similar mouth. Solomon’s hair was darker than his brother’s, his eyes blue. They’d not shared a mother and it seemed they didn’t have many like features.

She wondered what Jasper thought of him. He’d made a few vague mentions of the man. She had caught a glimpse of his deep sadness, but she had no idea if they had ever been close, either as children or as men. If he mourned Solomon still, a year after his untimely demise.

The last portrait in the line was the most important to her. Her husband, painted before he had taken the title, judging by the date on the brass label that was attached to the frame. Jasper looked younger than a mere handful of years before. There were fewer troubles in his countenance.

Who was this man? Was it only taking the title that had darkened him into a person who feared scandal to his very core? A man who only rarely smiled? One who was sometimes seen by others as hard or cold when neither of those things had proven true when she was alone with him?

She didn’t know that any more than she knew anything else about the husband she loved. And she wanted to know. All of it. She wanted to hear his pains and be a balm to them. She wanted to know his triumphs and celebrate those, too.

She wanted it all.

“There you are, lazy bones.”

She smiled as she turned to find Juliana entering the opposite end of the hallway. Her sister rushed through the gauntlet of painted eyes with a shudder. Juliana had always hated a portrait gallery, and she shook her head as she grabbed Thomasina’s hand and dragged her away from it.

“Eh, their eyes are so horrifying,” she said, and they linked arms and entered a pretty parlor just after the hallway.

“You always thought so,” Thomasina laughed. “Anne and I used to giggle so much about it.”

Juliana’s expression darkened at the mention of their sister. “Yes. I hated how you two teased, but now…now I would do anything to hear her quips.”

Thomasina squeezed Juliana tightly. “As would I. But we have each other, don’t we?”

Juliana nodded, and then she seemed to wipe her darker emotions away. She turned to Thomasina and looked her up and down closely. “Well, you don’t look any different.”