CHAPTER TWOHarriet awoke early next morning and rose to sit by her window watching dawn break over the grounds of Shepton Grange. The light touched the tops of the trees and then the stream in the distance, glittering in the early sun.
This had been her home for as long as she could remember. She had always loved it, but these days it no longer felt like her home.
Not since Rupert Ingleby had forced his way in and stayed.
Her heart was heavy when she remembered Lady Bellingham’s ball the night before.
Her stepfather had shown himself in his least pleasant light. But there was no surprise in that, she thought. All his lights were unpleasant to a greater or lesser degree.
But last night he had produced a man shockingly like himself, a loud-mouthed vulgarian with mean eyes. The effect wa
