We sat down on the garden swing where I spent so many afternoons. Silver came running over and jumped up on my lap. I began to stroke her, but suddenly she stood up, the hair rising on her back. She bared her teeth and let out a hiss so loud it would have wakened the dead. Sinclair jumped to his feet.

“Get that thing away from me,” he shouted. “I loathe cats.”

I grabbed Silver and carried her out of the garden and set her down near the house. When I turned back, I saw Sinclair in the distance, brushing off his trousers, such a scowl on his face I was almost afraid to go near him. I crept over.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Silver never acted like that before. I had no notion . . .”

“Just keep her out of my sight,” he said, interrupting me. “Or it will be the last time she’ll hiss at anyone.”

The brightness of the day seemed to dim a bit just then, and a wave of queasiness made my stomach clench. But Sinclair was smiling down at me now and, slowly, my bad feelings went away.

We left the swing and strolled on through the garden, my arm still tucked through his. He began telling me stories of his past adventures—the scrapes he and Ben often got themselves into. He was so charming, it was as if the Silver business had never happened.

“Mrs. Shaw’s husband and my father were brothers,” he said in answer to one of my questions. “Unfortunately, my father and mother are dead, and so is Mrs. Shaw’s husband. So, you see, I am all alone in the world.

“Have you brothers and sisters?” he said.

“I can’t remember,” I said. “Right now, the only person I can almost call a relation is your aunt.”

The words surprised me. At what point had I decided that? “Not such a bad relation to have.”

“I suppose not.”

It was late afternoon when we got back to the house, and I followed Sinclair into the library. Ben looked up from a book.

“Well, you two seem to have had a fine walk,” he said, winking at Sinclair. “Wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back.”

“I wasn’t sure we would either, my friend,” said Sinclair. “Selkie here is wonderful company.”

I blushed to the tips of my ears. When I’d first gone downstairs to meet Sinclair, I’d thought I looked well in the pretty white dress with a pattern of red flowers all over it, and my hair nicely curled. I wasn’t as buxom as I once was, although I didn’t still look like a scarecrow. But the minute I saw him, I began to doubt myself. After all, he must have dozens of girls after him, and all of them pretty. Well, he’d said I was good company at least, so maybe there was hope.