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Before, she thought rather bleakly, she had talked Draven into eloping with her

Her current bedcha of Maitland land But she had looked that direction fro the s between Draven’s and Rafe’s lands There were blots of criround, probably rowan berries Now those were her rowan berries, and her s, and all the pretending in the world wouldn’t erase the fact that her young husband had died, and his rief wanes, other unpleasant eht of Maitland House le Maitland rowan bush? She was practically a stranger to the family The new baron lived in Dorset because Maitland House, unentailed, had passed to Iht herself to enter the house since Draven’s hosts, to the west

She turned from theis and run a bath, so I water and tried to think of more cheerful subjects

Of course it didn’t work She could hear Daisy talking to herself as she put away clothing, tut-tutting over the wear her clothing had taken on the journey from Scotland

Draven’s clothing was in that house She couldn’t let his cravats molder into silence and decay She should parcel up Lady Clarice’s things and give them to the poor, send her jewelry to female relatives, order the furniture muffled in Holland cloth Perhaps she should sell the house

It used to be that she would cli herself ater would bring on tears But she hadn’t cried in days Her teekto feel like a childhood ers even as you try to reed, Daisy had left out a nightgown that was little more than a scrap of rosy silk, so pale that it reseen remember that she did need to think about husbands She was over twenty-one Annabel was having a baby, and Tess would likely follow suit

She whirled froonized her after Draven’s death, when it was clear that she hadn’t ather the courage to tell Draven’s h, Lady Clarice had simply folded up and died after she was told that final bit of news All her frivolities, her gossip, and her chatter faded after Draven’s death It was as if she relinquished her life as easily as one puts away a handkerchief, turned to the wall, and died

I table own It was all very well to own a goith the propensity to leave one’s breasts open to the night air There are undoubtedly situations in which such a nightgown ht be useful, but the ’s blaht, pulling up her sleeve again A baby

And then, as if it were an answer to her thought, she heard so Surely that was a baby?

It was a chortle, a chuckle, a sound no one but a very small child could make But that was impossible Rafe’s house was the quintessential bachelor establishment Male friends drifted in and out on their way to the races in Silchester, or escaping from female companionship… but babies?

She ain A sound A baby sound

Ien pulled open the door, walked outside, and proaped up at hiht of the corridor, he looked rather like Rafe Except…

It wasn’t Rafe He was sli, and not as sturdy His eyes were the saray-blue, and almond-shaped She loved that about Rafe’s eyes Sometimes it was hard to look away from Rafe

It was hard to look away fro politely at her, while she stood there rooted to the ground like an idiot In his aren, waved her right hand, and said "aze away from the baby’s father "Well, aren’t you a dear," she breathed, holding out a finger