A modiste arrived the following morning, not Madam Chantel, but a lesser-known seamstress from Dover, to make up several mourning dresses for Sophia, her grace, and a few of the family relatives who were staying on.

After that, the days passed in a blur.

Mr. Scofield and Sophia’s mother departed for London shortly after Harold’s services. Dudley must have left as well. Perhaps he’d decided the goings on at Priory Point were not festive enough for him. She wondered even, if seeing him had been a drug-induced nightmare. She’d meant to ask Rhoda but never got the chance. She, Mrs. Mossant, and her sisters had left Priory Point the day after Harold’s accident. Sophia couldn’t blame them.

Sophia was to remain with her in-laws.

It had been decided that she would travel with the duchess to the ducal country estate, Eden’s Court, in Kent and remain there indefinitely. The duchess had need of her often and demanded much of Sophia’s time.

The duchess, it seemed, found a special solace in spending time with her new daughter in-law. It was as though by talking with Sophia, speaking of her younger son’s final days, she could keep him with her somehow. She often asked questions about Harold’s last days, memories he’d shared with her. And then sometimes, she’d ask Sophia to repeat them again.

And so, Sophia spent hours with her mother-in-law, speaking of a man as though he was dead, knowing he was not, to a woman who mourned him greatly. It was the least she could do.

She’d crossed paths with Stewart on just a few occasions before he departed the estate. She knew plans had been set for him to rendezvous with Harold soon. But he, too, carried a look of sadness about him. Others would consider his melancholy his show of mourning. But Sophia recognized it far too easily. For she carried it with herself every day.

It was guilt. Plain and simple guilt.

She only wished she could flee as well. She wished she could run away with Dev, forget all of this had happened, and move on with their lives. But even if this was possible, she sensed a change between Dev and herself. An odd barrier of sorts had developed. To worsen matters, what with the duchess’ kindly demands, Sophia had difficulty finding time for herself, when she might seek him out.

When she was not needed by the duchess, Penny hovered. The constant companionship was stifling.

It had been ten days since Harold’s services, and the last remaining guests, as well as the duke’s entourage, were scheduled to leave the next day. Sophia felt a sense of panic at not knowing Dev’s immediate plans.

Was he going to return to Eden’s Court with them? Would he go to Surrey, or London perhaps?

Wrestling with such uncertainties, Sophia gave into her restlessness and went on a walk with Peaches in the small garden behind the castle, the side that faced the moors. Penny was busy packing, and her grace was taking a nap following tea.

Sophia needed to find Dev but did not know where his chamber was. And she could not exactly ask after it. That would be most improper.

Newly widowed ladies did not seek out a gentleman in his quarters. If she were to ask after him, surely, it would be reported to her grace. Her grace was privy to all details pertinent to her family’s well-being.

Oh, Dev!

As though her thoughts conjured him, she nearly burst into tears when she rounded a corner and saw him sitting on a conveniently placed stone bench.

They’d not been alone together for days.

And yet she felt hesitant.

It was Peaches who jumped at his legs until he lifted her onto his lap.

It was Peaches who reached to kiss his chin with her tiny tongue.

Dev tolerated the dog’s energetic affection for a few minutes, smiling and patting her on the bum, before setting her back onto the ground. He looked sheepish when he glanced up at Sophia. Not one to forget his manners, he rose from the bench and gave her a half bow.

That was the moment she knew that he too, in fact, felt this… distance… between them.

It was not her imagination.

He took her hands in his.

“Sophia.” He stared down at their entwined fingers as he spoke her name.

His hands were dear, so slim and beautiful, but so very strong and capable as well. She dipped into a half-hearted curtsey. With a sense that she was constantly being observed, Sophia glanced around nervously. “Dev,” she said. Her heart beat anxiously.

Did he regret all of this? Was he already lamenting the promises he’d made?

Allowing him to pull her down to the bench with him, she searched his eyes for answers. “He did make the jump safely?” The thought had occurred to her that Harold had been hurt, or worse, and that this was why Dev seemed so distant.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Dev set her fears to rest. He then rubbed her fingers for a moment before raising both of her hands to his lips. “I did not imagine in my wildest dreams how devastating this would be.”

Sophia’s eyes burned. “The duchess is overwrought at losing him.”

Dev nodded. “She is, but Sophia, you must remember the risk Harold would have faced if he’d continued his relationship with Stewart, here in England.”

“I know,” she agreed. “I only wish the duchess could know that he lives.”

“Harold and I discussed this. She could not have kept the truth from Prescott.”

“I know.” Sophia sighed. And then, “What’s going to happen now?”

Dev finally looked her in the eyes. “We wait.” He surprised her with what he had to say next, though. “I cannot remain in the same house with you any longer, unable to be with you, unable to speak to you freely… to touch you.” Passion burned in his obsidian eyes. “And yet, it is too early for me to publicly declare my intentions. The family wounds are raw. I think you’ve realized this as well.” Dev was quiet, and then he looked off into the distance. “I’m torn, Sophia, by my love for you and this sickness inside of me, this sickness at what we’ve done.”

His words were terrifying. Was she losing him? She knew they were going to have to wait, but how long? Six months? A year? Forever?

She needed to say it first. “I think we ought to wait at least a year. No promises, Dev. No commitments to each other. Neither of us could have predicted the devastation of… all of this. After a year, then perhaps, if we both feel the same as we did... we can see…” Her heart split in two as she spoke. He was her true love.

A year would not change that.

Dev raised her hands to his lips once again.

“We will, Sophia. I’ll prepare my estate for the two of us. We’ll be together then…”

But Sophia shushed him. “We will see.”

His eyes, which had been clouded in grief, suddenly burned clear and black, filled with intensity. “I will prepare my estate for us.” And then he pulled her toward him and his lips pressed against hers.

This kiss was more a promise than a token of passion or affection. His hand had taken hold of the back of her head. When the kiss ended, he dropped his hands but pressed his forehead into hers.

Meeting his gaze, she realized that this man, this brave man, was holding back tears.

She did not want for him to make promises to her that he might not wish to keep. “Prepare your estate, and then we shall see.” But she could not help but take hold of his hands. She pressed into him.

Perhaps her body would say the things she could not say out loud. Perhaps her body knew the words that her mind did not.

They sat this way for several moments. Sharing one another’s essence.

“Sophia!” A voice in the distance caused them to pull apart.

It was the duchess.

With one last kiss, Sophia silently said goodbye.

She then scooped Peaches up and rushed away. “I’m coming, your grace!” she shouted. She would not look back. She could not look back. For if she were to do so, she would most likely burst into tears.

* * *

The weather the next day was not ideal for a journey. A drizzle had begun during the night, and by morning had turned into a full-force gale.

Sophia and her grace would wait another day but the duke, St. John, and Dev’s father would depart as planned. They must attend to some business in London before joining Sophia and her grace in the country a few days later.

Normally, they would ride mounts, but, due to the weather, today they would travel by carriage. Dev had departed on horseback just before sunrise. The duchess had casually mentioned that he’d left for Dartmouth Place.

Sophia tried hard not to dwell on the physical distance he was putting between them, but that was nearly impossible. And the weather increased her anxiety. How could anyone travel in such a storm?

As her grace’s knitting needles clinked rhythmically, lightning occasionally flashed in the room. Rain pelted the windows.

Perhaps Dev had been able to get ahead of this storm.

She hated to think of him out in the open, vulnerable to the elements on horseback. She hoped he would have the good sense to stop at an inn and not allow himself to get soaked and then chilled. She already felt his absence greatly.

“Sophia…” Her grace’s voice interrupted her worrisome thoughts. “…I haven’t wanted to bring this up, as it’s something of a personal matter. But your maid hinted to me… Sophia, is it possible that you are increasing? Is it possible that you are carrying Harold’s child?”

Damn Penny and her lack of discretion! Sophia had considered this.

She had missed her courses.

But upon consideration, Sophia was not overly concerned about it. For she had often been irregular, and it was not unusual for her to skip a month or two altogether. Stupid, blabbermouth Penny had merely given her grace hope for something that was highly unlikely. And Sophia was certain to disappoint the poor lady once again.

She smiled sadly. “Although, I suppose, it is possible, it is unlikely, I think.”

But the duchess was persistent. “But it is possible? You have missed your courses, then?”

Was nothing to be kept private?

“This is not an unusual occurrence for me, your grace,” she said gently. This was not something she’d ever expected to discuss with anyone. “And I’ve not sensed any other… changes.”

Her grace dropped her eyes. Sophia had not realized the duchess would even consider such a thing. Although, what with the charade she and Harold had enacted, she ought to have realized such an expectation might exist.

“I know it must seem awfully presumptuous of me to bring this up with you, but when I thought it might be possible, I could not help but hope…”

Sophia dropped her book and moved to sit beside the older woman on the long sofa. The fire was warm and cozy. The room invited such confidences.

“No, no, I understand completely.” And then for good measure, “I, too, cannot help but hope… but I don’t wish to raise expectations when I think it unlikely…”

Her grace nodded and leaned into her. “You have been such a comfort to me, Sophia. I cannot imagine what I would have done without your steady presence, without the knowledge that you made Harold so very happy in the end.”

Sophia wished for the one-millionth time that she could tell the duchess the truth. That she could tell her Harold still lived and that he was happy as he was. That he’d not needed to change in order to find happiness and comfort. That he’d found love. That he was merely searching for place where he could have a life with Stewart, the man he loved.

But the lie must endure.

And then, in the distance, she heard the slamming of a door, anxious voices, and then quick footsteps running up the stairs. Without knocking, Priory Point’s most ancient butler, Mr. Girard, pushed open the door looking rather flushed from his exertions.

Bowing, he entered, seeming somewhat at a loss. And then, “Your grace, my lady.” He swallowed hard and then spoke again. “There’s been a horrible accident. His grace’s coach… it didn’t make it down to the main road.”

“Are they returning to Priory Point then, to the castle?” her grace asked, looking up from her knitting.

But he was shaking his head. His expression almost one of bewilderment. “That’s just it, my lady. The coach fell into the sea.”

* * *

The reality of what the butler was saying washed over Sophia before her grace could contemplate the full extent of his words. “The… coach alone? What of the horses?” her grace asked curiously.

“Did the passengers escape?” Sophia jumped up. “What of the passengers?” she asked. But the somber servant continued shaking his head side to side.

“The outrider downstairs… he has traveled from the wreckage on foot to get here. He says none of the passengers could escape. He says he and the driver barely managed to leap off before it went over.”

“His grace’s carriage?” The duchess had apparently finally comprehended what the butler was trying to tell them.

And then the butler gathered his wits about himself. “The outrider is resting downstairs. Shall I send out more servants to verify what has happened?” And then he stood straight and thrust his chest out slightly. “I, myself, will travel down to see what has happened.”

But Mr. Girard was elderly, and the roads were wet, and muddy, and slippery…

The duchess hadn’t moved, and so Sophia answered him. “No, Mr. Girard, send Richards and Quimbly on horseback.” They were the outriders who had stayed back to travel with the women tomorrow. They were burly, physical men of the world. They were employed as much for their protection as for any duties they might perform on a regular basis. “Tell them to be cautious of the stability of the road — we do not want any further calamities — but to discover what has happened. We will send down a few additional footmen to assist in a rescue, if that is possible. And to send for a magistrate so that—” What did magistrates do? They dealt with legal issues. They investigated crimes. “—to see that the accident is investigated properly and to ensure all is done that can be done.”

Surely this was not happening. It was not possible!

Sophia touched her forehead. She was in fully uncharted territory. Oh, Lord, she wished Dev were still here. Oh, God, or Harold, even.

Who had been in the duke’s coach?

The duke, of course.

And she believed St. John had chosen to keep out of the rain as well.

Good, God! And Dev’s father.

They needed to locate Dev. “And Mr. Girard. Send… send…” Oh yes, the stable master. He was familiar with Dev. He would know the route Dev had been going to take to Dartmouth Place. “Send Henry after Captain Brookes. He left for Surrey early this morning and must be notified immediately.”

“What if the road is impassable, my lady?”

What if the road…?

“Tell him to find a way around it. Dev — Captain Brookes — must return at once. We need answers right now. We need to know exactly what has happened, and if those gentlemen need assistance, we must get it to them as soon as possible!” Good Lord, she’d go herself if she had to!

God help her, she hoped assistance would be of some benefit at this point.

“Very well.” The butler seemed relieved to have been given instructions. He bowed stiffly and disappeared as quickly as he’d entered.

Sophia did not move for several minutes; rather, she just stood there frozen and listened as the household stirred into action.

It sounded as though an army were being deployed.

Only when the sounds died down did she turn and face the duchess.

“Sophia, can this possibly mean what I think it does?” The duchess was white as a sheet. Her eyes were glassy as she shook her head side to side.

This could not be happening.

Sophia clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “Let’s wait to see what Richards and Quimbly discover. The footman could well have been mistaken. What with the fog and the rain…” But what if it wasn’t a mistake?

The duchess had dropped her knitting into her lap and stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused. This proud, compassionate woman had already endured so much recently.

This cannot be happening.

Forcing her feet to move, Sophia walked over to sit beside her mother-in-law. The emptiness in her grace’s eyes was frightening. Sophia took the duchess’ hands in hers and, finding them ice cold, rubbed them for warmth. “We mustn’t jump to any conclusions at this point, your grace,” she said firmly. “You and I, we must be strong together. We will pray, and we will hope. Please, your grace, do not give up hope.”

And then the duchess looked into her eyes. “If they are gone, then Sophia, you are my only hope. I will pray every day that you are carrying Harold’s child. For if you are not, then I truly will have lost them all. My entire family.”

Sophia swallowed hard.