“Not really, no,” she agreed. Her anger rose again with the upsurge of grief, never far from the surface these days. “Pointless to die in a war over diamonds and gold.”

Mr. Muldoon inclined his head in acknowledgment but after a pause said with a slight note of reproof, “Those gold and diamond mines, Diana, are responsible for your family’s considerable wealth.”

Diana flushed with annoyance. The solicitor was presuming on the years of his firm’s service to the Sommerville family. She said sharply, “Maybe so, Mr. Muldoon, but my brother’s life was not worth that fortune, however pleasant it is to possess it.”

The solicitor reared back, like a tortoise withdrawing his head. He’d forgotten about the Sommerville eyes, the deep purple of sloes. Alight with that flash of anger, they burned like purple fireworks.

Diana instantly regretted her spark of temper. She had to watch her tongue; it had always been her downfall . . . speaking her mind without a tactful pause, that vital moment of reflection. Jem had had a similar problem, but he controlled the impulse better than his younger sister. Rupert, of course, had never pulled his punches, except when it was in his interests to do so. But of course, Rupert Lacey was not a Sommerville, for all that he acted as if he were.

Which brought her to the point of this visit. But before she could say anything further, Muldoon said, “I’m very glad to see you, my dear. As you would not have received my letter with a full explanation of your circumstances, I must explain matters to you in person. Please come into my office.”

Diana felt the first tremors of apprehension. Her circumstances were surely perfectly straightforward. She followed him into a dusty chamber, littered with papers and books, its paned windows grimy with the city’s heavy air, thick with the stench of sea coal and the smoke from the barges plying the river. She took the chair he pulled out for her and waited as he took a thick file of papers from a drawer in an overflowing cabinet and sat down on the opposite side of the big desk.

He spent a few minutes riffling the papers, patting them into alignment, before finally folding his hands on top of the pile and regarding Diana gravely through his pince-nez. Her apprehension now was running riot as she waited, breathless, for him to speak.

“As you’re aware, Diana, your father, Sir Geoffrey Sommerville, stipulated that upon the death of himself and Lady Sommerville, his estate be divided equally between your brother, Jeremy, and yourself. The estate comprises Deerfield Court and its lands and home farm in Kent, the London house on Cavendish Square and the property, gold and diamond mines in Kimberley, South Africa.”