“Ah, very well. The story begins, my dear, with your father. You remember the man? No? Perhaps that is just as well. He was a fool, although a wealthy one. Your dear father imagined himself to be a very fine fellow, with this house and its grounds, all inherited from his own father.”

Philomena swallowed. “This house?” She was bewildered. “What can you mean?”

“Yes, my dear. Your father owned this house but did not value it. He wagered it at cards and, sadly, being such a fool, he lost. To my father, in fact, whose knowledge of cards was exceptional and whose ability to win against the odds was sometimes suspected but never challenged.”

“You mean he cheated.”

“Oh, those are such harsh words. Skill at cards is a family trait. As I said, it requires years of practice.” Muldrow sneered. “Let us just say, my father gave fate a helping hand. In any case, your papa found himself signing the house over that very night. Fairford Manor became the property of the Muldrow family. Of course, no one knew how my father came by the Manor. The story put about was that he made a fortune up north, in a cotton mill.”

Muldrow pulled a kerchief from a pocket and wiped his brow. “Unfortunately, my mother was never, in fact, married to my father, for she had contracted an earlier marriage.” He sneered a little. “Yes, my dear, I am a bastard. I am not, actually, a Muldrow, although I have always used that name. The fact is not widely known, but, alas, it could one day come to light. We could not risk that, for the Manor would pass to a distant relative of my father. In order to ensure I had full title to the Manor, my father conjured up an ingenious plan. You have no male relations. I married you and could tear up the legal document signed by your fool of a father. I own the house, now, because you are my wife. Is that not delightful?”

Philomena rocked back in her chair. Was it the wine that made her head swim? Could it possibly be true, that the Manor House belonged to her father?

“Oh, please do not bother with that foolish, feminine swooning.” Muldrow chuckled. “Surely you have realised I have no interest in females except when they offer the opportunity to cause pain to my enemies. However, I want this house, and since you and I married, it is mine.”

“Yours?” She shook her head, still confused.

“You are my wife,” Muldrow thundered. “We married, and the marriage was duly witnessed. Make no mistake about that.”

Philomena’s heart sank. She had not imagined it, then. She was truly married to this monster. She closed her eyes. There was no way out.