edge of the garden. Even in the black of night, Carla couldn’t miss the stiffness of his spine. “I started three years ago when we had an outbreak of typhoid. The men did not have enough workers in the field. My brothers and I helped them.”
The pain in his voice sliced through Carla like a serrated knife and she approached him quietly, the damp grass muffling her steps. She touched his back, her fingers barely grazing against the material of his waistcoat. “That was when your wife died, wasn’t it?”
Sinclair didn’t turn around, but Carla could imagine the pain in his eyes. “She caught typhoid. I was in a neighboring village, two days from here. She died before I could get home to help her. She died alone with only Nettie to comfort her.” His breath shuddered out of his lungs.
Carla allowed her instincts to guide her. Wrapping her arms around his trim waist, she rested her head against his spine. “And you’ve carried the guilt of not being there for your wife around with you for three years.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t know how to let it go.”
His hands covered hers. “I am not sure that I can let it go.”
“You’re the only one who can decide that.” The warmth of his skin heated her cheek. “I wish I could help you.”
“Why?” He turned in her arms. “Why would you want to help me?”
The question caught her off-guard. “I’m not sure. I…you’ve become a friend.”
Sinclair closed his eyes. “Perhaps we should go in now. The air is growing colder.”
“Sinclair.” Carla didn’t move. “Do you know how I could see my family? At least my sister? I’m not asking you to help me leave, but she has to be worried about me. If I could at least get a message to her, just to let her know that I’m all right, I would feel much better.”
Without revealing what he knew, Sinclair shrugged. “I will ask in town tomorrow. Perhaps the soothsayer will know of a way.”
So the town had a local psychic. Carla tucked the bit of knowledge inside her and hooked her arm through Sinclair’s. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t have missed the guilt that skated across his face and Carla’s fears were confirmed. Sinclair knew more than what he had told her.
* * * * *
The lands owned by the duke and his brothers were massive, spanning several hundred miles and stretching as far as the eye could see and Heath Township was an extraordinary community. Everywhere Carla looked people were smiling and waving to the Duke, issuing invitations for dinner or just to have a friendly conversation. And Sinclair acknowledged every person, even if it was simply with a wave of his hand. The people walked away knowing they’d been recognized by the Duke of Heath.
Peddlers offering their wares lined the roadway, showing brightly colored material for new gowns or silver-handled mirrors. Bright toothless grins beckoned Carla from atop the carriage seat, but she could only return their smiles and shake her head. Even if she could locate her purse, her money would do her no good here.
“You are well liked here,” she noted quietly.
Beneath the cover of the carriage, Sinclair swept a look toward her. “You sound surprised.”
“I would imagine it is because of the books I have read. History does not portray the men of aristocracy to be kind, gentle men…at least not always. Most are self-centered and live for their own gain.”
“I have known many like that. However, my father raised my family differently. We were shown both sides of our world.”
“Your father was a wise man.”
“The soothsayer’s house is just up ahead. Are you sure you want to talk to her?”
Carla’s hands tightened in her lap. “I don’t really have a choice.”
Sinclair nodded and slowed the carriage to stop outside a small stone house. A large dog lay near the door, basking in the heat of the sun. He barely lifted his head to look at them as Sinclair stepped over him to knock on the door.
The heavy wooden door
The pain in his voice sliced through Carla like a serrated knife and she approached him quietly, the damp grass muffling her steps. She touched his back, her fingers barely grazing against the material of his waistcoat. “That was when your wife died, wasn’t it?”
Sinclair didn’t turn around, but Carla could imagine the pain in his eyes. “She caught typhoid. I was in a neighboring village, two days from here. She died before I could get home to help her. She died alone with only Nettie to comfort her.” His breath shuddered out of his lungs.
Carla allowed her instincts to guide her. Wrapping her arms around his trim waist, she rested her head against his spine. “And you’ve carried the guilt of not being there for your wife around with you for three years.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t know how to let it go.”
His hands covered hers. “I am not sure that I can let it go.”
“You’re the only one who can decide that.” The warmth of his skin heated her cheek. “I wish I could help you.”
“Why?” He turned in her arms. “Why would you want to help me?”
The question caught her off-guard. “I’m not sure. I…you’ve become a friend.”
Sinclair closed his eyes. “Perhaps we should go in now. The air is growing colder.”
“Sinclair.” Carla didn’t move. “Do you know how I could see my family? At least my sister? I’m not asking you to help me leave, but she has to be worried about me. If I could at least get a message to her, just to let her know that I’m all right, I would feel much better.”
Without revealing what he knew, Sinclair shrugged. “I will ask in town tomorrow. Perhaps the soothsayer will know of a way.”
So the town had a local psychic. Carla tucked the bit of knowledge inside her and hooked her arm through Sinclair’s. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t have missed the guilt that skated across his face and Carla’s fears were confirmed. Sinclair knew more than what he had told her.
* * * * *
The lands owned by the duke and his brothers were massive, spanning several hundred miles and stretching as far as the eye could see and Heath Township was an extraordinary community. Everywhere Carla looked people were smiling and waving to the Duke, issuing invitations for dinner or just to have a friendly conversation. And Sinclair acknowledged every person, even if it was simply with a wave of his hand. The people walked away knowing they’d been recognized by the Duke of Heath.
Peddlers offering their wares lined the roadway, showing brightly colored material for new gowns or silver-handled mirrors. Bright toothless grins beckoned Carla from atop the carriage seat, but she could only return their smiles and shake her head. Even if she could locate her purse, her money would do her no good here.
“You are well liked here,” she noted quietly.
Beneath the cover of the carriage, Sinclair swept a look toward her. “You sound surprised.”
“I would imagine it is because of the books I have read. History does not portray the men of aristocracy to be kind, gentle men…at least not always. Most are self-centered and live for their own gain.”
“I have known many like that. However, my father raised my family differently. We were shown both sides of our world.”
“Your father was a wise man.”
“The soothsayer’s house is just up ahead. Are you sure you want to talk to her?”
Carla’s hands tightened in her lap. “I don’t really have a choice.”
Sinclair nodded and slowed the carriage to stop outside a small stone house. A large dog lay near the door, basking in the heat of the sun. He barely lifted his head to look at them as Sinclair stepped over him to knock on the door.
The heavy wooden door
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