“Tomorrow will be soon enough for that,” Peony said wearily. “Whoever threw that brick is long gone by now, I’m sure—”

Jamie broke in. “Pack up some things for Mrs. Ryan, Molly. She’ll be away tonight.”

Molly swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” she said, with a little curtsy, her eyes dodging to Peony. “May I go to me sister’s, mum? I’d feel real scared, stayin’ on ’ere alone.”

“Certainly,” Peony said gently, and Jamie ached with the special affection he bore her. She had a gift, Peony Ryan did, for giving tenderness when and where it was most needed. “We’ll drive you there in the carriage.”

Jamie, having collected his hat, took up the crumpled note, folding it carefully, and tucked it into his coat pocket. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before Increase tipped his hand.

When Bliss dreamed, it was usually of Jamie’s lovemaking or the color and scent of the blue, blue sea, chattering at the rocks and sand of the shore. Or of America as she imagined it to be, and the wonderful life her mother was living there. Occasionally, however, the dark dream came to call, to show her that it would not be forgotten.

That Colin would not be forgotten.

She saw him again, standing on the very edge of the cliff, and even though he was only a stone’s throw from the lighthouse and carrying a lantern, the lashing of the wind and rain, coupled with the darkness, reduced him to a small, wavering shadow.

“Colin!” Bliss cried, knowing that she was dreaming, but unable to awaken herself. “Colin, I’m here—come to me!”

He was only seven, and he was a daredevil, loving above all things to show off. He balanced on the brink of the cliff, lifted his lantern high, and turned on one heel. “Look, sister!” he cried gleefully as Bliss crept toward him, her arms outstretched, the rain stinging her eyes and the wind stealing the breath from her lungs. “Look at me! I’m a lighthouse!”

“Colin,” she whispered, in desperation.

And at her whisper, he fell. For long, agonizing moments, she fell with him, spinning round and round in the mist, too frightened to scream, knowing that the jagged rocks were coming ever closer.

With a shriek, she sat up, gasping for breath. She was soaked with sweat and her heart filled her throat, beating there like an enormous drum.

Jamie’s hands were gentle on the sides of her face, his thumbs smoothing away her tears. “There now, Duchess,” he whispered. “I’m ’ere, and what was that all about, anyway?”

With a hoarse sob of relief, Bliss flung her arms around his neck and held on tight. “Oh Jamie,” was all she could manage to say. “Jamie, Jamie.”

He held her close until she’d stopped trembling, then gently pressed her back onto her pillows. He fetched a cloth from somewhere and dried her face of tears and perspiration.

“Tell me,” he urged.

Bliss squeezed her eyes shut, hating to entertain the memory even long enough to tell Jamie what had happened all those years ago. “There was a storm,” she finally forced herself to say. “Papa sent my brother, Colin, out to fi-find me. He was playing—beside the c-cliff—”