But it wasn’t just the reminiscent smell that caught his attention. Vanilla and saffron were expensive.

The hem of Isabel’s gown wasn’t tatty and bore no signs of being let down as she’d grown over the years. Ruffles of fine lace ran along the neckline and cuffs. He had no reason to buy the stuff himself, but he knew it didn’t come cheap.

Even Mother’s gown in sedate, plain black was smooth and cleanly tailored, with no pulls in the fabric or signs of being adjusted as she’d lost weight after Father’s death.

The pianoforte couldn’t have come cheap and the way she spoke about it, it sounded like it was hers rather than their aunt’s. Then there was this talk of a townhouse in Lunden …

His brow twitched. He hadn’t been able to send that much money back from his wages, and Aunt Tilda’s accounts were enough to keep her modest estate and a roof over their heads. They weren’t going to starve and lived comfortably, but new clothes and an additional house and all the staff that entailed?

“What a pleasant surprise this is,” Mother said, smile gentle as she handed Aunt Tilda her tea, “both my boys here at the same time.”

Knigh froze, cup halfway to his lips. “George is here?”

“Oh yes, he arrived a week ago with gifts for everyone.” Is smoothed her hand over her sky-blue skirts. “Didn’t he choose well?” She blinked at him, smiling. Yes, the colour matched her eyes.

So, he’d got away from Mercia. And at least that explained the clothes.

Knigh let out a soft breath and nodded. “And did he give you the pianoforte, too?”

Is cocked her head. “Not exactly …”

Mother placed her cup and saucer on the table. “Your brother has been sending us an allowance for some months now,” she murmured.

“A very generous allowance at that,” Aunt Tilda said with a nod and raised eyebrows. “Wish I knew where he was magicking it all from—I wouldn’t mind finding that pot of gold myself.” Her eyes glinted above a narrow smile before she sipped her tea.

The back of his neck prickled, and a chill traced his veins. Where was George getting money from? He didn’t have a career or land, and Father hadn’t left any sum for them to invest.

The rest of the afternoon passed in polite chit-chat, with Knigh pointedly avoiding any detail of his recent work in Arawaké. Thankfully, he had the excuse of ‘naval secrets’.

Just as the ladies were about to go and dress for dinner, boots stomped into the hallway.

Isabel’s eyes widened. “George,” she called, springing to her feet with a smile.

Knigh swallowed, throat dry.

“George,” Is called again, “through here! You’re never going to believe—”