Chapters (46)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Back Cover
He wanted to, desperately.
But the greatest enemy to truth was the simple question, “What if?” And thousands of those questions peppered his mind with doubts. Yet he continued to remember Joan’s words, and the tone with which they were spoken.
Quiet, unassuming confidence.
It reminded him of his theology professor at Cambridge, Professor Dory. Joan’s words had carried the same soft-spoken assurance. Professor Dory’s lectures were Rowles’s favorites, and he’d adored the way Professor Dory spoke with conviction that came from a solid truth, a firm foundation for knowledge that left only room for faith to believe it. Rowles shook his head at the memory. He would never have expected that years later he would take over those lectures in that very hall after Professor Dory passed away and teach those same principles to his students.
And though Rowles had tried, desperately tried, he couldn’t replicate that same soft reassurance of his predecessor. But Joan—rather, Lady Joan—spoke with it effortlessly.
It was alluring, captivating, and frightening as hell. Because what peace surrounded her mind and heart to put such unshaking resolve in her words? Perhaps she didn’t notice it. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed either, had he not already been exposed to that same sense of conviction by his predecessor. But it called to him.
Made him want to believe whatever authority gave her the raw intensity in her words.
He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. He was the professor, the educated one. He had studied at Cambridge, had spent countless hours in the library poring over books and memorizing whole chapters of the Bible to grasp the truths he sought. Only to later teach them, and still lack the principles the slip of a woman presented last night. It was humbling.
Rowles took a sip of tea, his mind wandering to the events of the day ahead. His mother had been at rest for the past few days, not leaving her rooms, even to break her fast. It wasn’t unusual, but in the past, she would at least have ventured to the library where she’d stand in front of the wide window that faced the front of the estate. For hours, she’d watch the carriages pass, but even that didn’t currently interest her.