Chapter 23

Aunt Cecily huddled on the rug at his feet, her shoulders hunched, her hands shielding her face. Her hair was in a tangle about her shoulders, and her gown was in disarray. I couldn’t help shuddering. Had he also violated her? Uncle glared at me over his shoulder.

“Well, sirrah?” he demanded. When had his face taken on such an unhealthy colour, such deep-scored lines? “What is the meaning of this interruption?”

“I heard you were home, Uncle. May I not come to greet you?”