She heard the unexpected click of her door opening.
Half asleep and a little confused, at first she thought that Jacob had returned from the war when she saw the tall form standing in the doorway, the dim light casting him in shadows. But when she blinked, her vision cleared and she saw that the figure was too bloated around the waist, the shoulders too bent and scrawny to be her athletic, soldier husband. Scrambling into a seated position, her heart pounded and her blood ran cold as she realized that Uncle Horace was invading her bedchamber.
“Get out!” she yelped, pulling the brocade counterpane firmly up to her neck.
“I don’t think so, lovely Lydia.”
“Jacob will kill you if you do not leave this room!”
“You invited me!”
“What—”
“You removed your shawl at dinner to tempt me with yo
