She looked at him long and hard, as if she were desperately searching for something to say that might help assuage the wave of grief rushing over him. He was surprised by the way she put her free hand to the side of his face while she kissed his other cheek. She looked at him again and her voice cracked as she said, “Good-bye, Henry. If our paths cross again, it must be merely as friends . . . acquaintances. This must be the last time we speak of such things. I will never forget you.”

She stood up and walked away, and he found himself completely incapable of going after her. There was nothing he could think of to say that might change her mind. The helplessness he felt had left him stunned and immobile. Knowing that he was completely alone and no one could possibly see him, he hung his head and pressed his face into his hands, weeping as if he’d just received news of the death of a loved one.

* * * *

Amala ran toward the house with the intention of hopefully getting to her room unnoticed so that she could follow Kat’s example of claiming to not feel well, undress down to her chemise, and crawl into bed. Quickly assessing that she wasn’t likely to get to her room without encountering someone, and also realizing that she couldn’t get out of the dress, corset, and enormous petticoats without assistance, Amala impulsively took a different path and sneaked into the carriage house, where she knew there was only one person she might encounter there, and he would not fuss over her need to find a place to be alone and just think—or even cry if she needed to. The burning in her eyes and throat lured her to the likelihood that it would be the latter.

Amala was relieved to see Everett there, repairing one of the carriage wheels that he’d just removed. From his father, he had inherited the job of caring for the family’s wheeled vehicles and thus had been born and raised on this estate. It was more home to him than to her. He was near her father’s age, and rather nice looking with his graying dark hair. He wore a white shirt and dark breeches and boots—as he always did. In spite of having work to do to keep the carriages maintained, Everett knew he could be called upon to hitch up the carriages and sometimes drive them, which would require buttoning the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves and donning a proper waistcoat and jacket. Right now he was at his most casual, and he only had to glance at Amala for her to know that he’d noticed her distress. He immediately let go of what he was working on and put his hands on his hips.