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Egremont, and so their sentence was transportation rather than a noose. They languished in jail, then they’d disappeared from England as surely as if they had been hanged.
    Now after all these years, Christian was back? Alive? And well? And wanting to be named earl of Egremont? It went beyond irony.
    He’d avoided the wars, the battles, the wounds. Had he stayed in England, he might very well have gone to war with Jonathan and died along with him. But instead, he’d returned, in triumph. Julianne buried her head in her hands. Unworthy and unbidden, the thought struck her like a flash of pain: Christian had emerged from the past, unscathed. Where was the justice? Why should Christian, the criminal, be alive, and Jonathan, the hero, be dead?
    Julianne raised her head. She had to meet this man who claimed he was the boy she’d known. If he were indeed Christian Sauvage, it would almost be like recovering a bit of Jonathan, a part death couldn’t take away.
    Her lips tightened. But what if it turned out the fellow was an imposter, raking up the past and all its pain in order to fill his pockets, just as the real Christian had supposedly done all those years ago?
    Then she’d want to be the one to hang him.
     
    “Today, we’ll show you the wonders of Egremont,” Sophie told Julianne at breakfast. They were sitting in a sunny dining parlor with the squire and Hammond. Her mama wasn’t there because she kept Town hours and didn’t rise until noon. “We’ll ride over there after luncheon, when the sun’s dried the dew. There’s walking involved, and we don’t want to get our slippers wet. Then you’ll see what the fuss is about.”
    “They say Queen Elizabeth stayed at Egremont one summer and came back twice,” the squire said, gesturing with his piece of toast. “But people have always lived in style there. There was a Viking hold on the site and records of a Roman fort before that. That was built over a mound from before even that. The manor sits on a rise overlooking the valley. It was popular because it was a defensible position.”
    “Not very, I don’t think, if it was in turn Viking and Roman and all the rest,” Sophie said, and giggled. “But we shan’t have to worry about that,” she said, with a smile at Hammond. “After all, no one will come at us with a battering ram.”
    “No,” he said quietly, “only with a writ and a record of birth.”
    “I haven’t seen them yet,” the squire said. “ If they exist, my solicitors will. We’re pursuing every angle of this, my boy. In fact,” he added as he rose, “I have to go. I’ll be meeting with that fellow from Bow Street. He’s arrived from London and sent word that he’ll be here soon. I’d like you to speak to him, too. So, if you’d stop by my study before you go to Egremont?”
    “Of course,” Hammond said, getting to his feet in deference to his future father-in-law.
    “Sit, sit, my boy, finish your breakfast,” the squire said. “I’ll see you later.”
    When he’d left, Hammond sank to his seat again, looking troubled.
    “Never you mind, Hammond,” Sophie chirped. “We’ll unmask the fellow, and things can go on as they were.”
    “Have you seen much of him?” Julianne asked.
    “Not since he first came,” Hammond said. “I think that’s been a mistake. The more he talks, the more chance we’ll have of discovering the truth.”
    “Ah, he’s been avoiding you,” Julianne said, nodding. “That’s a point against him. An honest man would have nothing to hide.”
    Hammond’s face grew ruddy, and he slid a glance at Sophie. “No. He’s not avoiding anything. He’s been seen everywhere around the village. He’s just not been invited here.”
    “Well, I can’t bear the sight of him,” Sophie cried, jumping to her feet and throwing her napkin on the table. “And I tell you it isn’t right to force him on us.You should be trying to dispose of him rather than asking me to talk to him. He’s ruined our