“Okay.” Nory looked down at the newspaper, nonplussed. “Do you want me to deliver this to Lord Abercrombie? Are we offering a postal service now?”

Thomas held up his hands. “Nory, can you just . . . can you just listen to me for a minute?”

Nory closed her mouth and made a locking motion at her lips before throwing away the imaginary key.

Thomas’s face cracked momentarily into a smile before becoming serious again. He looked uncomfortable. “About your feelings for Isaac. I didn’t realize. And what you wanted to do for him, well, that was . . .”

Nory opened her mouth to speak, but Thomas held his hand up for her to be quiet.

“You were right, I’ve been hanging on to old stuff for so long, that I got stuck in a kind of rut. I couldn’t seem to let it go. I know it wasn’t always easy for you. But it was easier for me to blame you than face my own failings. The thing is, Nory, no matter what, you’re my baby sister, and I love you. Despite what it often looks like, I only ever want you to be happy.”

He bent down and kissed her cheek then straightened.

“Anyway, that’s it. That’s what I wanted to say.” He nodded to the paper in Nory’s hand. “Center spread,” he said. “Read it before you go. I’ll see you at supper.” And with that he strode away into the maze of greenhouses and polytunnels.

Nory watched him go. Brothers! she thought. Complicated creatures. Laying the paper out flat on the bonnet of the car, she flicked to the middle pages.

Revered Botanical Artist Found To Be Plagiarist

read the headline. Nory couldn’t quite believe what she was reading. There was a picture of Isaac looking uncomfortable holding Heba’s sketchbooks and, below it, a personal interview. She could hardly take it in. Aside from Isaac’s own evidence, there were testimonials from the families of officers and soldiers who had served in India, diary entries, appraisals from experts, and a statement from a solicitor’s firm in London that specialized in art law. The De-Veer family were quoted as being shocked and saddened by the wrong that had been done to Heba and her family. And they were cooperating fully with the Scotland Yard art fraud department to have Heba’s name restored to her work and the books repatriated to Heba’s great-great-grandson.

Snow was coming down in flurries, dusting onto the newsprint like confetti. Nory shook it off and folded the paper. This had thrown her. The butterflies in her stomach didn’t know whether to make her jump up and down or faint. Isaac had given an interview to Guy! Was there a chance that Isaac had forgiven her?

“Nory!”

Nory jumped and saw her dad over by the dahlia sheds. He tapped his watch and made a shooing motion at her.