Chapter 11
Jonathan retired to bed that night in an unaccustomed state of nerves and anticipation. As it was still relatively early, only the elderly had reached their own chambers. As he ascended the stairs, candle holder, book, and glass of brandy balanced in his hands, he could hear music and laughter drifting into the hallway from the drawing-room.
When he walked into his room, it was as if he was seeing it with another’s eyes. Removing his clothes, he reached for his nightshirt, placing the glass and the candle by the bed. Although the room was comfortably furnished, in the week or so he had been staying there, it had taken on some of his own character. There was his own brand of Spartan simplicity in its neatness that he merely considered as functional. Now he wondered if, to someo
