Henry stayed until after supper and he returned two days later to spend as many hours as he could get away with. He visited a little with Everett upon his arrival and shared lunch with the family, after which he went riding with Oliver, since the weather had turned more favorable than it had been on his previous visit. After tea, he enjoyed a little time alone with Amala in the library, and he didn’t leave until after supper. He returned home in time to check in on his mother before she settled down for the night. She didn’t inquire over where he’d been or show any interest in what he might be doing with his time. She only grumbled about the servants, the food, the weather, and the gossip that had come to her ears about two members of the serving staff sharing a romantic tryst and perhaps wanting to marry. She treated the matter as if it were something criminal. Henry commented that any human being, no matter what their class or ethnic origin, had the natural right to fall in love and be with the person of their choosing. His mother looked at him with a harsh astonishment that made him feel like a naughty little boy who’d been caught at some kind of terrible mischief. He dropped the subject, wished her well, kissed her forehead, and hurried to his own room, where he felt like he needed a bath just to wash away the negativity his mother exuded, which seemed to cling to him.

Weeks eased into months while Henry never went more than a few days without spending a day with the Hepworth family. He did feel completely at home there and with every member of the family—most especially Amala. He loved every bit of time they might find alone together, but he also loved being with her when the family was there as well. They were indeed getting to know each other much better, and he hoped she was coming to believe—as he was—that they truly had the strength to be together and withstand the social and cultural challenges they would face.

Henry dearly loved Viola, who was loving and cheerful and had a broad perspective on many facets of life and the world, all of which she saw through the best possible lens. In a word, she was exactly the opposite of his own mother. He also grew fond of Kat, recognizing, as Amala had pointed out, that she was very different from her sister in many ways, but she was kind and lighthearted and completely without guile. Henry found it interesting that he had a sister who shared his blood but was a complete stranger to him, yet Amala and Kat had no blood connection but were completely integrated into each other’s lives, the way that siblings should be.