“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand. They went deeper into the carriage house, almost to the rear, where an older but well-preserved vehicle was located. Amala nodded toward the door as if he should know what to do. He opened it and took her hand to help her step inside before he followed her and closed the door behind him, accepting her invitation to sit next to her on an especially lush blue velvet seat that had also been well-preserved.

“Is this where you come to hide?” he asked. Although it was difficult to see her face in here, he still knew she was astonished by the question. “Everett told me you were keen on finding places to hide in the carriage house, which is how you and he became such good friends.”

“Yes,” she said, “this carriage is my favorite. It’s comfortable, and it never gets used anymore—old as it is.”

“I can think of much worse places to hide,” Henry said, taking hold of her hand.

“My father considered selling it at one time, but Everett talked him out of it. I’m certain my father knew the reason for Everett’s protest, even if he never said so. I believe my family knows there are times I just need to be alone, and they know I’m safe here. Which reminds me . . . as for Everett, he is the exception to our needing to keep all of this a secret. We can trust him. I discussed the possibility of this with him before you came. I told him he could speak freely with you; there isn’t anything about myself I don’t want you to know. But there are perhaps some things I would rather not tell you myself. He knows everything. He can be our liaison and our confidant—if you’re all right with that.”

“It’s fine. I like Everett.”

“And it’s evident he likes you,” she said. “I confess there were things he said that made me realize I should at least give this a chance.”

“Then I am grateful to him,” Henry said, letting go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders. He loved the way she leaned against him, and he pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she murmured, and he felt as if he were dreaming. He refused to think about how it might feel if the dream ended when all was said and done.

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted. “More than I can say.”

“How is it possible to feel this way, Henry, when—not so long ago—we didn’t even know of each other’s existence?”

“I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times,” he said.