The Dowager sighed again before resuming,
“I shut up The Castle and took Rupert, as I had decided to call the baby, to London with me. I told the world that my nephew, who had lived for many years in China, had died and that I had adopted his son. It was a story as good as any other and after a time people forgot to question me. I went to the lawyers and I arranged legally that the baby’s name should be Wroth – Rupert Wroth. By the time he was old enough to go to Eton everyone who had ever questioned the story had forgotten all about it, except one person, of course, and that was my son Frederick.
“I knew that he loathed Rupert with a deadly hatred and would do anything in his power to harm him. He watched his time and he waited until Rupert was fifteen, a charming, sensitive boy who lov
