Page 59 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

Was it worth it? No. It had been a waste of time trying to get her maid reinstated after her abrupt dismissal, and it would be pointless to fight her husband over this.

Jethro didn’t trust her. The man he had employed to spy on her was evidence enough.

The pictures would come down tomorrow as he had requested. She would ensure he never saw them again.

The next morning, Cassandra went to the drawing room straight after breakfast. With a heavy heart, she watched as Martin removed the offending paintings from the walls.

How was she going to explain to Gilbert that her husband did not want them on display?

Perhaps it would be kind to break it to him gently, rather than leave him to discover it the next time he visited.

She would have a word with him after church on Sunday. Apologise for Jethro’s behaviour. It was insufferable, but there was nothing she could do. She knew better than to argue when he’d made up his mind.

Afraid the paintings would be a constant reminder of her husband’s displeasure, she thought it best not to put them up in her bedroom. They were too large for her chamber anyway. Instead, she hid them under her bed. There. No one would have to see them now.

She returned to the drawing room and stared at the empty walls. The naked hooks emphasised her loss, and it was such a shame. The sea views had fitted in so well with her colour scheme, it was too frustrating for words.

Jethro would probably select some heavy pieces—dead game or something equally repulsive. It might ruin all her hard work, by drawing the eye to a picture that jarred with its surroundings.

She was still standing there when a footman brought in a silver salver bearing a letter.

Cassandra took the note and stared at the handwriting—handwriting she knew so well.

Xander. What an age it was since she had heard from him. A missive from her brother was just what she needed to soothe her soul.

She moved over to Mrs Hunt’s writing desk and picked up the letter opener. With a single flick, she sliced open the seal, and spread the sheet out in front of her.

Cassandra tutted to herself. Typical. Six months without news and she only gets a few scrawled words.

But as she read, her frustration turned to joy. Xander was home on leave. His ship had docked in Portsmouth, and he would arrive in Weymouth within the week.

He would stay with them. Jethro wouldn’t mind, would he? He had said it was their home. What if he refused? Where would Xander go then?

What a fool she was to worry. Her brother would have his pay and maybe even some prize money by now. If Jethro didn’t want him here, he could rent some lodgings or put up at an inn.

But that was not what she wanted. Xander was family. He couldn’t reside with Julia at the school, so he must stay with them. If not, she feared how he would view her husband—and Xander never minced his words.

She stood looking out the window, waiting for Jethro to return from the warehouse, and as soon as he walked through the door, she hurried into the hall to greet him.

“What have you got to show me today?” he barked as he followed her into the drawing room.

That was not encouraging. “Nothing.”

He did not sit, but stood in front of the window, examining the walls, as if satisfying himself that she had done as he asked.

At length, he turned back to her. “Then what is it? Why this sudden attentiveness?”

“I’ve received a letter.”

“Not from a long-lost love, I hope, because you’ll have to tell them they’re too late. I got there first.”

Cassandra flinched under his sarcastic tone. What had prompted him to speak like that? Was he still angry with her for hurting his pride?

“Who’s it from?”

“My brother.”

“Ah, the reprobate captain who did not make proper provision for his sisters.”