He knew exactly what he was going to do tonight, he thought as he strode along. It was high time she was reminded of his claim on her again. Did she know that the rose petals he sent her in the envelopes had come from the blooms on the estate? He doubted it. So it would be nice to let her know she wasn’t as invincible as she thought in her comfortable ivory tower. Twins. She’d had twins with that fancy gentleman of hers. She’d let him penetrate her and distort her body and then she’d brought forth the results of their filth. He ground his teeth, his jaw working. But a husband, bairns, they were nothing; it was him who owned her and he would make her see that she belonged to him. He’d done murder for her and sold his soul to the Devil – no other man would have done that. No one was capable of loving her like he did. And now look at him, he was working at the stinking ironworks and living with the lowest of the low, and all because of Rose. She had to be made to understand that the bond between them could never be broken until death. Aye, he told himself grimly, until death.

Since the outbreak of war, old Stubbs, the head gardener at Highfield Hall, had lost the three gardeners under him – two of whom were his sons – when they had joined up. He’d found a couple of young lads from the nearby hamlet who came in to help him at weekends when they weren’t at school, but otherwise he’d been forced to cope on his own and at seventy years of age he was finding it increasingly difficult.

He had been employed at Highfield from a lad of twelve; he knew and loved every inch of the grounds, and revered the Bembridge family. The master, in his book, was only a step down from God Himself. He disapproved strongly of the increasing trend in the young not to know their place any more, which made it all the more surprising when he so far forgot himself as to burst through the front door of the house rather than using the servants’ entrance. He further compounded this disgraceful act by pushing past the butler when he tried to stop him, and rushing in on the family when they were having breakfast.

William, Arabella, Rose and Betsy looked up in astonishment as the door flew open and Betsy even gave a little scream.

His rose garden, he cried. His beautiful rose garden that had produced the finest blooms in the North for decades. Gone, all gone.