I followed her up the steps, pondering on this. Earlier in our relationship I had come to Belinda with my problems. I had relied on her as being older and wiser and certainly more worldly. Now it seemed our relationship had changed. I was the one with a stable life and she needed me. Interesting.

I had no more time to weigh these facts as we reached the front door and stepped into a vast dark wood-paneled foyer. On one side a curved staircase ascended to a balcony. An enormous wooden chandelier hung above the stairs. The floor was composed of black and white marble squares. On the walls various hunting trophies, ranging from stags to buffalo, stared down at us. It was one of the most gloomy entrances I had ever seen and I’d grown up at Castle Rannoch, which ranks extremely high on the gloom scale.

I didn’t notice the woman standing beside a tall potted palm until she spoke.

“Welcome to Trewoma, my lady and Miss Warburton-Stoke. I am Mrs. Mannering, the housekeeper. I hope your stay here will be a pleasant one. James will take your coats,” she said and the footman now stepped forward to assist me off with my overcoat and then took Belinda’s cape.

“I remember your grandmother with great respect, Miss Warburton-Stoke. A true lady. Sorely missed,” the housekeeper went on as the footman whisked our garments away. She turned to me. “And I understand that you are Lady Georgiana Rannoch, sister to the duke and cousin to the king. It is a great honor to have you at our house, my lady.”

“Thank you, it’s most kind of you,” I said. “But I’m actually now married and a simple Mrs. O’Mara.”

“A lady is always a lady, is she not?” the housekeeper said. “If you would come this way, I believe Mrs. Summers is awaiting you in the morning room.”

She was almost a caricature of a perfect housekeeper. She had an old but unlined and expressionless face. Her hair was set into a perfect cap of gray waves. She wore a black dress with a white collar, the combination of which removed all the color from her face, giving the impression of a skull floating above blackness.

She led us across the foyer; down a long, dark paneled hallway; round a couple of corners; and opened a door ahead of her. We stepped into a delightfully warm room with tall arched windows that looked out onto manicured lawns and a view of the headlands beyond. Armchairs and sofas were arranged around a massive marble fireplace in which a log fire was blazing. Rose had been sitting in one of the armchairs but she sprang up as we came in.