The door to the drawing room opened and Mr. Dunkirk stood, framed in the opening, windswept and breathless. “Miss Ellsworth. I am glad to see you; it seems too long since our paths have crossed.”

Jane put her sewing aside and rose to greet him. “Mr. Dunkirk, you are so often away on business that I wondered if you were still in residence.”

“I am not away so often as that.” He pulled off his riding gloves and strode into the room. “One might begin to think that the two of you conspire to exclude me.”

Jane flushed and stammered that he was incorrect, painfully aware how inadequate a rebuttal she made.

“Edmund! You know she speaks nothing but the truth. You are forever away,” Beth said. “Jane, you simply don’t know how often I wish Edmund would be home, but he is instead away to London. And he will never take me with him.”

“London would not suit you, Beth.” He beckoned to her. “But perhaps you might like what I have brought for you. It is a gift that I have had in mind for some time, and I suspect will inspire you to forgive me for being gone today.”

“Do you see! Do you see how he bribes me so I will forgive him for inviting me here and then ignoring me?” Beth turned in her chair, as if to shun her brother, but it was clear by the curve of her cheek that she enjoyed teazing him.

“Then humor me, and come see it.”

Beth’s looks spoke loudly of a curiosity about what he might have brought, and it did not take much more coaxing to draw her into the hall. Jane followed them, wondering what it would be like to have Mr. Dunkirk dote upon her as he doted upon his sister.

The front door of the abbey stood open, letting the sunlight stream in and gild the dust motes. Outside the door, framed in the perfect pastoral setting, stood a roan mare. Even to Jane’s unpracticed eye, she seemed the most graceful of beasts. Her mane blew in the gentle breeze, showing off her long, fine neck.

By chance, Beth was looking around the foyer instead of out the front door, and so did not see this elegant creature. Mr. Dunkirk stopped her in the hall. “Beth, stay a moment. Do you see nothing that you like?”

Jane held her breath, watching, waiting for the moment when Beth saw the mare. With a puzzled frown, Beth turned slowly, looking about the foyer for a parcel or some other small gift. Only when she had completed nearly a full circle did she face the door.

“Oh.” Deep in her eyes, a glow kindled. She turned to her brother, slowly, eyes still caught by the mare. “Is she . . . ?”

“Yours.” He put his hand over hers, squeezing with that careful tenderness which belongs to a loving family.

Jane stood outside the tableau, content to not be within the circle of excitement which went round the mare and the Dunkirks, and yet longing for someone in her own family who understood her as thoroughly as Mr. Dunkirk understood his sister. As one, Beth and her brother started forward; Mr. Dunkirk was full of particulars of the mare’s heritage and training. He talked of her height and her gaits, but Jane heard only his fondness for his sister.