“Very good, Mr. Adams.” Marce stood, walking around her desk to stand before the wiry solicitor as he pushed his round glasses up his nose. “Thank you for meeting with me again, and for all your hard work securing a property for me. I know my funds didn’t offer many options.”

He shook his head, his brown hair flopping into his face. “My lady, I have endeavored to find and acquire a suitable home with land that will fit your needs explicitly. Do not worry yourself. The three properties I laid out for you are all within your means, and the home you chose, in Kent, will do nicely.”

“Your assistance is very much appreciated,” Marce said, her smile genuine for the first time in quite a while. She’d been pleased to find properties in Northumberland, Kent, and a grand house outside Bristol. She’d chosen the home near Kent without a second thought—or perhaps she’d known that being close to Hadlow, even if an hour’s coach ride away, would give her the possibility to visit Leona at some point in the future. “I will call on Miles at the Bank of England on Threadneedle tomorrow and have the funds readied.”

“And I will have the papers drawn up by midday.” Collecting his satchel, Adams gave her a quick bow and hurried out of her office and into the hall beyond, where Darla waited to show him out.

Marce dared a glance at the clock behind her—nearly seven o’clock.

The last two days had passed quickly after Rowan departed Craven House, and she’d pushed her siblings out the door, claiming that she had much business to attend to—which, in fact, she did. She’d met with Adams thrice, and Miles at the bank once in less than thirty-six hours.

And now, with the important matter of acquiring a new house well in hand, her siblings would be arriving for their evening meal within moments. It was not unusual for them to dine together for a meal after Payton had finished her day’s work at the baron’s residence, and before Garrett started his night out about town. But being summoned was peculiar…even for them. However, when she’d asked them to come, they’d readily agreed.

Perhaps it was solely to learn more about the gentleman visitor both of them had witnessed arrive and depart without Marce speaking of the nature of their acquaintance. Marce would be fooling herself if she didn’t admit that she’d left the pair salivating for more information simply to make certain they both arrived punctually when the time came.

It was past time she was honest with Payton and Garrett—at least as truthful as she was prepared to be on this night. Maybe sometime in the future, she’d be ready to share the whole and complete story, but not tonight.

No sooner had the door shut behind Adams than it again opened, and she heard the bickering voices of her siblings.

Part of her was relieved that Sam and Jude—along with their husbands—were still away from London. They would learn of everything soon enough. And this way, neither could attempt to be the heroine and concoct a scheme to keep Craven House. With all honesty, Marce would be happy and content to leave the house behind. Certainly, it held many fond memories, but it also represented the ghosts of her family’s past. The scandal after her father’s death, her mother’s fall from grace, and her own sordid association with Rowan. It would be best for all if she moved on and left her past where it belonged…behind her, and one day forgotten.

Not that everything with Rowan had been horrible.

Her time at Hadlow hadn’t been completely miserable. She’d discovered her love for country life, met Leona and Tobias…and had her first true kiss.

Her first taste of how bright and hot passion could burn. She’d thought herself past the age of finding a man who stoked the flames of desire within her. There were days, especially when she saw the happiness and love shared between her sisters and their husbands, that Marce doubted she was capable of closeness or adoration for any man. Yet, when she least expected it—and with a man no one would ever guess—the embers of her long-repressed passion had flamed. She’d discovered things about herself that stunned even her. Despite their jaded past, or perhaps because of it, her longing to be near Rowan, and her need to feel him against her, was enough to send her running back to him.

Allowing herself that wish would only cause her more hurt in the future. The time would come when she was alone at her new home before a roaring hearth, without the risk or luxury of running back to Rowan, when she could think on it. And she’d have years of lonely nights to relive that moment with Rowan. His touch, skin-to-skin. His strong yet yielding lips pressed to hers. The rigid length of his arousal pressed between their bodies.

Not now. It was all too new. Too raw.

Running her hand along the edge of her desk and glancing about the room that had somehow come to represent her, Marce departed the office and made for the dining hall. It would not do to allow Cook’s meal to grow cold and stale. The woman would likely rebuff Marce’s plea for her to move to Kent with her.

Both of her siblings were seated when she entered—Garrett in his normal chair, and Payton forgoing her usual place for Jude’s next to Marce at the head of the table.

“Good evening.”

The pair turned perplexed stares in her direction at her cheerful greeting. Payton blinked several times as if not recognizing her sister, while Garrett’s eyes narrowed on her before he shook his head.

“What has you in such fine spirits?” Garrett prodded, standing to pull Marce’s seat out for her to sit. “You were quite dour when last we spoke.”

Marce retrieved her napkin and draped it across her lap, signaling for Darla to serve their meal—a light fare of duck soup, roasted pheasant, and fresh bread—before turning her full attention to the matter at hand.

“I am never in a dour mood,” she corrected Garrett. “My place as head of this family is one of great responsibility.”

England was a patriarchal nation—men led their families, provided safe haven for their wives and children, and attended to business. It was not that way with her family. They’d had no male to care for them since before her father died. Even her mother’s lovers hadn’t stepped into the role of provider for Sasha and her children…and so, her mother—and Marce after—had taken the reins to support them all. Garrett hadn’t the proper upbringing and teaching to push him into the role as head of their family.

Perhaps that blame lay on Marce’s shoulders. She’d never trusted anyone to care for her siblings as she could.

And, in turn, Garrett had seen twenty-seven summers living as a carefree man with no hint of responsibility or obligation. He was unwed, never so much as connected to any woman, proper or otherwise, and living in bachelor quarters at the Albany. Thankfully, he took on the responsibility of paying for his own lavish accommodations, as the funds from Craven House would never stretch that far.

“Go on,” Payton whined, wilting in her chair. “Do not keep us in suspense. Who is the mystery man, and why have you been strange of late?”

“The man is of no consequence.” It seemed she’d made up her mind about how much to tell her siblings, and it didn’t include Rowan and his role in her past. “I wanted to share with you both that I am in the process of purchasing property near Kent. I will require your assistance packing up Craven House before it is time for the women and me to relocate with the servants.”

“Moving?” Garett sat forward, knocking his water goblet over to flood his plate. “You cannot.”

“Outside London? Where will I go when I need to get away from the baron’s hellions?”

“What of Jude and Sam when they return?” Garrett continued. “They will think we abandoned them. You will be gone, and they will have nowhere to go.”

Marce held up her hand to silence the pair. “Yes, I’m moving. Payton, you can just as easily go to Ellington’s townhouse as this one. I will inform both Sam and Jude of the change. Besides, they are both wed now. They have no need to stay here, and neither do either of you.”

“But—” they started in unison.

“This grand house is too much for me alone,” Marce cut off their further protests. “The new property is surrounded by open land with a beautiful garden and even a small lake for rowing.”

Garrett’s mouth pulled down in disgust. “You do not row.”

“Nor does she swim,” Payton added.

“I think I would like to learn how to row—and swim, I’ve always enjoyed baths. Swimming cannot be much different.” She paused. They’d baited her into justifying her decision, something she shouldn’t have to do. “But that is beside the point. This new house will give the women I help a place to rest and heal from their pasts, and time to decide where to go from there. And it will also be somewhere you both can come when you need to be away from town.”

“I adore town life,” Payton argued.

“You enjoy the ready access to the gaming hells.”

“London is my home,” Garrett proclaimed, pushing his flooded plate away.

“Only because you’ve never known another”—Marce sighed—“and that is no one’s fault but mine.”

Marce glared across the table, her hard stare moving from Garrett to Payton and back again as their meal grew tepid before them. She hadn’t expected them to be so averse to her decision.

“Regardless, shortly, Craven House will no longer belong to me, and I’ve chosen a fitting location with adequate space for everyone. You can choose to come with me, or visit during the Christmastide season or whenever the time allows. That is your choice to make, but neither of you will instruct me on my course.”

Garrett had the good sense to at least appear remorseful for his outburst, but Payton continued to glare at her eldest sister.

She twisted her napkin in her lap, tamping down her irritation. It was not a surprise that Marce was taking her frustration out on them; however, the time when she allowed others to dictate her life had long passed. No one—be it Benton, Rowan, or her siblings—was her keeper.

“If there is anything of sentimental value here, I suggest you remove it promptly.” Marce pushed away from the table and stood, her fingers gripping the edge to steady herself. “I will bid you both good evening. I have much to tend to elsewhere in the house.”

As she walked from the room, her head held high, she prayed that her siblings would come around. She wasn’t prepared to do any of this alone. They’d always been a family—loyal to a fault. If there was any time she desperately needed their support, it was now.