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casement.
    It lifted easily under her imploring fingers. Praising God for one stroke of good luck in the one hundred bad moments of this day, Jessica hauled herself over the sill and dropped on the floor.
    Her thudding feet echoed loudly.
    Silence followed. The drift of dust filled her nostrils. It was darker inside the house without the benefit of the stars, and her eyes took a moment to adjust. She gasped as the room came into focus.
    It was empty.
    Completely empty. A cavern of space without even a rug on the floor.
    So much for a night in her warm bed. Gone was the carved bedstead, the polished armoire, the dainty dressing table her mother had given her. The unreality of the moment made her swallow hard and she turned slowly around in a circle, not able to believe her eyes. The curtains were even gone from her window. It was…impossible.
    No, she was wrong. Knowing her brother as she did, it was very possible.
    Part of this was her fault.
    In her stomach the certainty curled that she had been a fool. She had accepted Rebecca’s initial invitation to spend her holidays with the Greenes out of the selfish wish to be with a family again, any family. To experience laughter, to dine at a crowded table noisy with conversation—even to hear the occasional raised voices in argument. She’d gone back time and again because it had been wonderful to forget her own loneliness and because of Nathaniel and his flattering attentions. It was pointless now to lie to herself and say that she hadn’t sensed Robert was in trouble of some kind. She had abandoned him, and he had not protested or requested her presence at home in more than a year. The trouble must be deep indeed.
    But this? Surely he would tell me?
    Jessica raced across the room and flung open the door to go out into the hallway. She stumbled through the darkness, opening door after door. All the rooms except the master bedroom were similarly plundered. Paintings were gone in the hallways, tables were missing, her father’s prized antique tapestry was no longer in the gallery.
    The house was nothing but a ghost from the past. An empty shell of a life that had been but was now gone.
    Where on earth was Robert? Surely he would sell the London townhouse before desecrating the furnishings of their parents’ country estate? The house had been in their family for so long the Roweland history at Braidwood went back centuries.
    Her mind spinning, Jessica walked woodenly down the main stairs like a woman in a trance. She found very much the same situation downstairs. Robert had left his study intact but everything else was gone. She couldn’t even unlock the front door and bring in her trunk because the keys were apparently all missing.
    She was locked in, she was alone, and she was hungry. Not even bothering to check the kitchen for any food because she was certain there would be none, she fumbled slowly up the stairs in the dark and went into the bedroom that once been her parents’ and was now her brother’s.
    Robert was never one to ignore his own comfort. She surveyed the luxury of the room. The huge bed remained untouched, hung with velvet drapes and covered in satin sheets. The carpeting underfoot was soft and thick, and she recognized it as a valuable imported piece her father had purchased in the Orient. Several of the more precious paintings from downstairs hung on the walls and two elegant wing chairs were arranged before the fireplace. No, her brother might have pillaged the rest of the place, but he refused to live in less-than-perfect style for as long as possible.
    Well, he wasn’t there.
    She was.
    Slowly unbuttoning her gown, she then slipped it off and tossed it over the back of one of the chairs. She removed her petticoats and shoes and stockings, and discarded them also. Clad only in her chemise, her stomach aching from lack of food, she pulled back the coverlet and sheets and fell into the bed.
    At least she could get a good night of sleep undisturbed and