“Is something wrong with the eggs, my lord?” asked his majordomo, starting forward. “What?” Sebastian looked up, puzzled. “Oh. No, the eggs are fine, Morey. Thank you.” Shoving the plate aside, Sebastian turned his attention to the news article on page three: RETIRED GREENWICH SEA CAPTAIN FOUND DEAD IN RIVER. The church bells were tolling a death knell when Sebastian drove into the outskirts of Greenwich. Leaving the chestnuts in Tom’s care, Sebastian let himself in the garden gate at the end of the long walk. He glanced up at the spreading limbs of the old oak, but the child Francesca was not there today. With an oddly troubled heart, he mounted the steps to the house. He half expected the Captain’s young widow to decline to see him. But he sent up the name he’d given her before, Mr. Simon Taylor, and after a few moments, the little housemaid Gilly returned to tell him Mrs. Bellamy would receive him. She half sat, half lay upon a sofa drawn up so she could look out over the gleaming expanse of the river sliding past the house.
