‘I was hoping he might be with you.’ Rosalind’s voice broke as suppressed anxieties threatened to overwhelm her.

‘Why would he be with us?’ Lady Pentelow demanded crossly. ‘He’s your husband and he chose to live here in this crumbling old castle rather than Trevenor, his ancestral home.’

‘Just a moment, Grandmama,’ Aurelia said anxiously. ‘Why isn’t he here, Rosie?’

‘He went on a business trip and I’ve been expecting his ship to return for days now. I thought perhaps they had taken shelter in St Austell Bay and he might be with you at Trevenor.’

‘I suppose you’re about to tell me that Alexander is also missing?’ Lady Pentelow threw up her hands. ‘I’ll be very annoyed if we’ve had a wasted journey.’

‘Alex hasn’t arrived yet and neither has my brother. I’m hoping that with all three of them it’s just the bad weather that’s delaying their arrival.’ Rosalind headed for the drawing room without waiting for a response. Her nerves had been on edge before the arrival of Lady Pentelow and now they were frayed to breaking point.

‘What’s wrong, Rosie?’ Aurelia caught up with Rosalind as she entered the drawing room. ‘Has something happened to Alex?’

‘I hope not. I don’t know any more than you do, but please don’t say anything to Patsy. She’s in a state about everything anyway.’

‘What is it that you aren’t telling us?’ Lady Pentelow demanded, peeling off her gloves. ‘Why isn’t Alexander here?’

‘I don’t know, and that’s the honest truth.’

‘But you suspect something.’ Aurelia caught Rosalind by the wrist. ‘Tell me, Rosie. I’m not a child, and I want to know.’

‘Please take a seat and I’ll tell you all I know.’ Rosalind tugged at the bell pull. ‘There was an article in The Times regarding a troop ship that had gone aground off the coast of France during a terrible storm in the Bay of Biscay. I have nothing to confirm, nor can I refute the possibility that my brother and Alex were on board, but I am worried. Now you know, but as I said, please don’t mention a word of this to my sister.’

‘Why not?’ Lady Pentelow unpinned her fur hat and laid it on a side table with her gloves. She sank down in a chair by the fire, glaring at Rosalind as if she was at fault. ‘If your sister is old enough to be married, then she should be mature enough to cope with this situation. You can’t treat her like a baby for ever.’

‘Are you talking about me?’ Patricia burst into the room. ‘What have you been saying, Rosie? There’s something you’re not telling me. I know it.’