I could not share their grief; I did not know the man. Yet here Colin Hargreaves stood and suggested that Philip actually talked about me. What on earth could he possibly have had to say? My mind reeled. Kallista? Greece? As far as I knew, Philip had few, if any, interests beyond hunting. I had little reason to doubt Mr. Hargreaves, who had stood as best man at my wedding. He and Philip were friends from their early days at school, and Philip always spoke highly of his integrity. Before I could think further on the subject, the butler interrupted me again. My parents awaited me in the drawing room.

"My dear, you really must keep the curtains drawn in the front of the house," my mother scolded, true to her new mission of attempting to reestablish dominance over me.

"Philip has been dead for more than a year and a half, Mother. I can hardly live without natural light indefinitely."

"Prince Albert left this life nearly thirty years ago, and our queen still respects his memory. You would do well to follow her example." My mother, quite possibly Queen Victoria's staunchest supporter, looked critically around the room. "I know Philip was a bit eccentric, but now that he's gone, you surely could update this room. It is as if it is only partially furnished."

Philip had no taste for the cluttered excess currently in favor and had furnished his house accordingly. After our wedding he was delighted to learn that I shared his opinion on the subject. He obligingly removed several of the larger mounted animal heads from the public rooms, and I agreed to leave the remainder of the house untouched.

"In one breath you tell her to mourn the man, in the next to change his house. Really, Catherine, I think you should leave the child alone." My father, whom I had always considered a silent ally, smiled at me reassuringly. "I don't like to be unpleasant, but it is insupportable to me that she should have to be in mourning longer than she knew Ashton."