His bedchamber was neat and sparsely decorated. One wall boasted an austere landscape; the mantel was bare but for a small gold-faced clock and a candlestick in a pewter holder. A dark blue counterpane and two matching pillows covered the large bed, but there were no extravagant bed-curtains or decorative touches.

Everything was terribly orderly and utilitarian—much like what she’d imagine a military barracks looked like.

A mahogany desk tucked into one corner of the room was predictably tidy, with nothing on the top except for a small framed painting. Sophie moved closer to examine it, but she could already guess the portrait’s subject—Edmund.

Indeed, the young man in the painting was a more refined, more civilized version of Reese. A handsome gentleman, perhaps in his midtwenties, stared back at her, his intelligent eyes full of a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

He was the brother Reese idolized and the one he feared he’d never live up to.

Carefully, she returned the painting to its spot, then looked around the room for any other personal items—books or trinkets or any other clues that might help her understand Reese. A razor rested on a towel beside his washstand, and a lantern perched on the nightstand next to his bed.

But then, a few items on the top of his bureau caught her eye—a brass key and a pair of gold braided epaulets. She could easily imagine the epaulets on the shoulders of a scarlet jacket, and she was sure Reese had cut a fine figure in his officer’s uniform, looking one part dashing and two parts fierce.

Though she’d never seen him behave violently, she had no doubt Reese would be formidable in a fight. Something told her that when it came to his principles, he’d rather die than forfeit. A chill ran down her spine, and she said a quick prayer of thanks that Reese’s soldiering days were over.

She wondered about the brass key but left it and the epaulets on his bureau, then walked to a window, where she swept aside a gray velvet curtain panel and looked outside. The rain had slowed, and while the skies were still overcast, the sun had begun to peek through the clouds in a few spots.

The view of the garden was remarkable—from the third floor, she was able to see each of the main parts and features as well as the overall balance. Already it looked much improved from the week before. Vines no longer encroached on the walkways; weeds no longer lurked between the path’s stones. Water in the moat flowed freely, and the footbridge boasted a glossy new coat of black paint.