(Author's POV)
The butler knocked twice before entering. He leaned down and spoke quietly near William's ear.
William's expression did not change. He set down his glass and stood.
The painting was called *Roses at Dusk*. It had no particular market value. It had been painted by a close friend of William's who had died fifteen years ago - a man he had known since university, whose work he had kept not because it was worth anything but because it was irreplaceable.
He stood in the hallway and looked at the handprint.
Rosalind had already gone. By the time William reached the hallway, she was back in the sitting room, pressed against Victoria's side, crying.
"She yelled at me," she sobbed, pointing vaguely toward the door. "The housekeeper yelled at me and I didn't do anything."
Eleano
