When she stepped outside, she closed her eyes and pulled in great lungfuls of air.

I just need a bit of quiet.

Yes, the great mob of Worthingtons and friends had quite overwhelmed her. The loss of Jennie, she could not yet bear to touch. She felt raw and restless and as if something was very, very wrong.

Yet all the commotion had passed. Now it was time to go back to her ordinary routines. That would be the most steadying thing. There were herbs to gather and transform into her little store of tinctures and extracts. The chamomile was blooming in the garden already. She was letting the flowers go to waste.

Instead, Gemma pressed her palms to her heated cheeks, her fingers covering her eyes. She felt ripped apart inside, torn by the past days, by the joy and the grief, like a band pulled too far from its original shape, now unable to return to it. She couldn't feel her own place in the world anymore.

She opened her eyes and could not stop her gaze from turning to the road south. The carriage would be well down the dale by now, along the river road.

"Only one road in and one road out."

At that gruff voice, Gemma tore her gaze away from the farthest curve and looked down. Her hands were doing it again. She spread them wide across her midriff, where Mr. Bing would not see. "Don't you have some tasks to attend to?" At that moment, she did not need Mr. Bing's paternal interference.

"The lad and his brother hove to in the stable this morning. Hammered that shoe back onto the Icky horse and did a week's worth o' chores to boot. Not the usual sort of toffs, that lot."

Gemma pointedly ignored him. He huffed. "He worked himself to the bone, that lad. I’ve never seen anyone so determined to make something right. Except for you."

When she didn't respond, he took her hint and stomped off.

No, the Worthingtons were not the usual sort of anything, were they? Dashing Pollux, with such longing in his eyes. Fierce Atalanta, terrified underneath. Beautiful broken Lysander.

Gemma's knees gave a bit and she sank to sit on the top step, despite the gritty state of the stone. I shall have to sweep. But the thought flowed right through her mind without stopping.

She found she was watching the road again.

Did she truly expect him to come riding back, pounding up the road on Icarus, just to be sent away again? For that was precisely what she would do if he did such a mad thing.

Wouldn't she?

Topknot lurched slowly across the yard. Mr. Bing must've released her from her confinement in the stable. Gemma had been certain the dog would want to follow Lysander, but Topknot was a Yorkshire lass, through and through. London was no place for her.

But it's all right for him?