Shepherd Gosling nodded at her agreeably enough, although his sorrow hung dark and oppressive about him. All the Goslings were subdued but Gemma had to believe the family would survive. The elder Mrs. Gosling, a spry lady of fifty-six, waited back at the farm with the child who'd been too small to attend the assembly. She would love her grandchildren well. In addition, the community would enclose them all and Gemma would do everything she could. She'd made promises to Jennie that she'd not been able to keep. She owed her friend this.

The farm cart rattled away. The Worthington contingent, who had hung back respectfully, even Miss Atalanta, now stepped forward.

Mr. Button took her hand. "As sorry as I am for the tragic loss of Mrs. Gosling, I am not sorry to have met you, my dear. You shall serve as a mighty inspiration to me. It was an honor to boil water for you." His sincerity made his quirky way of speaking into something charming and insightful. He planted a kiss on her cheek. "Do call on me if ever you are in London."

Mr. Cabot was next. "Mrs. Oakes, thank you for your hospitality. Your dale is very beautiful." His words seem to encompass more than simply the landscape.

Gemma nodded. "Thank you. I think so, too."

Next came Mr. Pollux Worthington. He eyed her carefully, opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head as if refusing to say it. "Thank you. Thank you for helping Lysander. You've done wonders for him."

Gemma had not told a soul what Lysander had confessed to her. As difficult as it was to reflect upon what he had done, she would not betray his confidence. Instead, she took Pollux's hand. "Tell him that you want to listen. Then let him choose his words. Just listen." There, that was the last thing she could do for that particular patient before sending him home with his loved ones.

Pollux nodded, his brows, very much like Lysander's, knitting slightly. "Where is Zander?"

"Lysander," said Miss Atalanta in a reminding tone of voice. "He isn't Zander anymore, remember? And he's waiting in the lane."

Atalanta stepped up to Gemma. Gemma noticed that Pollux gave way before his little sister. Were there no adults in that house? Who was in charge there?

Not my concern, Gemma reminded herself as she looked expectantly at the fascinating but alarming Miss Atalanta Worthington.

"Lysander is special," Atalanta said bluntly. "Even for a Worthington. I don't just love him because he is my brother. I don't want him to stay here. I'm not even sure I like you. But you should know that Lysander is special."

Gemma look at the girl. Of all the people in the world who might dispense advice on matters of the heart, a fourteen-year-old girl was the last one Gemma should listen to. Yet she found herself regarding the girl with great seriousness. "I shall take your opinion under consideration."