Indeed, the entire subject of his wife-or more specifically his lack of same-had become a sore point, a mental bruise that throbbed every time he thought of it. Let alone spoke of it.

Turning a corner, he looked ahead, and saw a tall figure waiting by the round table in the center of the castle’s great front hall. He inwardly grimaced. No doubt Madeline had come to ask about the mill.

The daughter of the previous Viscount Gascoigne, only child of his first marriage, she was the older half sister of the current viscount, Harold, known to all as Harry, still very much a minor at fifteen. The Gascoignes held the estate of Treleaver Park, situated above Black Head, the eastern headland of the same wide bay on which the castle stood overlooking the western cove. Gascoignes had been at the Park for very nearly as long as Tregarths had been at the castle.

The two families were the principal landowners in the area. As, under the terms of her late father’s will, Madeline was the primary guardian of her three brothers, including Harry, it was she who was the de facto Gascoigne. She ran the estate and made all necessary decisions. As she’d been groomed by her father for that duty, and had performed in the role since before his lingering death eight years ago, the neighborhood had long grown accustomed to treating her as her brother’s surrogate.

Indeed, for the exemplary way she conducted her brother’s business and for her devotion to the difficult role of her brothers’ keeper, she had earned the respect of every person on the peninsula, and far beyond.

Gervase approached; hearing his bootsteps, Madeline turned, an easy smile lighting her face. Courtesy of his years abroad, he didn’t know her well, but as he’d been born at Tregarth Manor outside Falmouth, not that far away, and had spent many months throughout his childhood visiting his uncle and cousins at the castle, he’d known of her existence for most of her life.