“Her name was Elena and she died giving birth to our third child,” put in an icy male voice from the doorway behind Maggie. “Is there anything else you’d like to know, Miss Chamberlin?”

Maggie whirled to face Mr. Kirk, and she was shocked at the rigid fury she saw in every line of his body. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done wrong.

In the space of a second or so Duncan relaxed. “No, Miss Chamberlin,” he said sheepishly. “I’m the one who should apologize. I guess I’m still a little sensitive where Elena is concerned.”

Maggie nodded, not knowing what to say. She was no stranger to grief herself, having lost both her parents in one tragic accident, and she knew that it made people do and say very odd things at times.

“Come and see our maps, Papa,” Jeremy entreated his father. “We’ve made Australia.”

Maggie was pleased with the attention Mr. Kirk paid to each map, carefully studying every line and place name and mountain range. When he had quietly lauded both boys’ efforts, he sent them downstairs to have their lunch.

After the children had raced out of the schoolroom, Duncan lingered over one of the maps, his hands braced against the low tabletop. In the sunlight streaming in through the windows, his hair gleamed a golden red. “Elena was very beautiful,” he said without looking at Maggie. “Would you like to see her portrait?”

“Very much,” Maggie said quietly. In many ways Duncan Kirk frightened her, but now she found herself feeling real compassion for him. She had expected to be led to some other room; instead, Mr. Kirk took a small golden item, much like a watchcase, from his vest pocket and opened it.

Maggie looked inside and saw a miniature of a woman with very dark eyes and pale hair almost the color of her own. Elena was smiling in the portrait, something that was unusual given the seriousness of having one’s likeness done, and she was, indeed, beautiful.

“She passed away two years ago,” Duncan said quietly, as though he were still baffled by the unfairness of her passing. “Our infant daughter perished with her.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say in the face of such a tragic loss, so she remained silent, trying to convey her sympathy by the expression in her eyes.

Mr. Kirk’s pensive look was gone in an instant; almost briskly, he snapped the small portrait case closed and dropped it back into his pocket. His green eyes were clear as he took in Maggie’s prim shirtwaist and skirt, and he smiled. “I’d like to see what you plan to wear to Government House tonight,” he said.