There were images of him at local events when he was younger along with his parents. I’d discovered Roane’s family had been granted a baronetcy by the Crown in the seventeenth century, and they had marriage ties to the dukedom way back then. The Alnster baronetcy was one of the oldest left in England, and although, as Roane had explained, they weren’t members of the peerage, it was still a respected title.

Roane’s grandfather Edward was the first baronet to avoid becoming a member of Parliament, instead concentrating on rebuilding a dwindling estate. Roane’s father had inherited it and expanded that wealth by starting the maintenance company, and Roane had continued to expand upon their little empire.

I found an article on the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland’s anniversary gala a few years ago, and Roane and his parents were on the list of guests who’d attended.

No wonder he’d known Alnwick Castle like the back of his hand.

He’d been there, mingling with a duke.

Memories flooded me, all the moments I’d forgotten, where he’d hesitated over taking me to the farm or hedged about details regarding his family. Times where I’d heard him say, “Evie, we need to talk,” or, “I need to tell you something.”

He had attempted to tell me the truth.

I saw that now.

But he hadn’t tried hard enough.

And I hadn’t thought to look. I’d stared at photos of him online, trying to figure out how I’d missed so much, including his age. I blamed that damn beard. But it wasn’t the beard, really. It was Roane. He had this innate maturity and authority that made him seem older.

What I wouldn’t do, however, was blame myself.

I pulled in a shuddering breath, pain constricting my throat as I fought back the emotion. It was the lies he’d told. The lies were almost inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Silly even. Truths that would never have stopped me from giving him a chance or loving him.

It was his ability to lie to me.

And the villagers’ deception.

All this time I’d thought I was one of them, but they’d kept this from me, like it was a game. Like I wasn’t permanent but just that summer’s entertainment.

I saw Milly approach the store door, and my stomach plummeted.

Yesterday I’d had to deal with Viola and Caro. I’d told them I was leaving, just not when, and during separate visits they’d both begged me to stay. It was hard with Viola. I was angry at her, at everyone, for lying to me, but I still cared about her. I’d still miss her.