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.

“What’s wrong, child?” he asked in a way that she knew meant he hoped she would talk to him, but he wouldn’t insist upon it. She’d been running to the carriage house to find respite and privacy for as long as she’d lived here, and Everett had become one of her truest friends. As close as she was to Kat, there were things they just couldn’t talk about. But Everett had great wisdom and insight, and he never got upset or defensive about certain topics of conversation the way Kat did. Amala had come to see him as something akin to an uncle, and she knew that Everett saw their relationship much the same way. He’d been married in his younger days but had lost his wife and young son to disease, and he’d been alone ever since. He mingled comfortably among the other servants and was highly respected by them—as well as by the family. But he’d readily admitted that he’d grown to especially care for Amala and to feel some responsibility for her.