“My dear Lady Tremaine,” he said as he approached, “may I speak with you in the garden before dinner starts?”

“I think we have time.” She looked at the little gold clock on the mantel.

“Lady Hackle said we can take as much time as we need,” he replied, and took her by the hand, leading her out the double doors into the garden.

They walked over to a pond that was filled with tiny sparkling lights. When she got closer, she saw that they were little mirrored bowls floating on the surface of the water, candles flickering within them, casting remarkable shards of light that danced across Sir Richard’s face and the garden.

“You wanted to speak with me about something, Sir Richard?” she said, standing very still as she awaited his reply. She felt she had to brace herself for what he was about to say. She feared his words would be a blow and she wanted to be ready. She tried to make herself solid and unmovable. Ready for impact.

“I did. I’m afraid I have to leave right after dinner, but I didn’t feel it would be right to leave without speaking to you first, not after our talk earlier today. I wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding. I wouldn’t want to leave if there was indeed more we had to say.”

Lady Tremaine’s heart sank. This was what she had feared and expected. Of course their conversation had not been the start of a passionate love affair or a new adventure. It had been nothing more than polite small talk.

“You needn’t say more, Sir Richard. I understand you completely,” she said. She felt foolish for thinking their talk today was anything more than two people who had lost their spouses, connecting over their shared pain. She thought he had spoken of wanting a wife and a mother for his child because he wanted her, but it seemed they were only sharing their stories, not their hearts.

She cursed herself for letting herself fall in love with this man so quickly, for imagining a life with him and their children after only a couple of days. After one afternoon of conversation. A conversation she had completely misunderstood.

She stood there, so quiet and still, fearing that if she spoke or moved she might break into little pieces and crumble before him. Surely her heart was breaking, but she wondered if it showed on her face.

“Do you truly understand, Lady Tremaine? Because I do so want my intentions to be clear.”