– John Bunyan Chapter Three Nephew, be warned. I expect considerably more civil behavior from you at table this evening. Bramwell crushed the unsigned note in his fist and threw it into the drawing-room fireplace, but not before noticing that his aunt had made use of his own personal stationery to pen her warning. Considering that he kept this stationery in a locked desk drawer in his study, he spared a moment to wonder if his favorite paperweight, a Spanish doubloon encased in a sphere of glass, remained where he’d seen it that morning. But that wasn’t really important. Had he actually risen this morning believing that Sophie Winstead could come into his house, and that his life would remain unchanged, the hard-won calm tenor of his days undisturbed? No. Certainly not. Otherwise, why would he have spent the previous evening sulking in that same private study, downing more than his usually quite prudent ration of brandy?
