“It seemed a lot of explaining ahead of a brief conversation,” he said. “If you need time to decide where you’re heading next, I’ll tell her whatever you’d like so you’ll feel comfortable here for however long it takes to sort your situation.”

For a moment, she sat mumchance, her mind too befuddled to allow a word to slip from her. He had written to her, asking her to return. Could it be he didn’t remember their agreement and she’d misunderstood his letter? Or that he didn’t remember the last day they’d spent together? How could he not? It was burned into her memory. But, then, she’d discovered three years earlier that many things in their shared life had meant more to her than to him. She’d felt more. And, in the end, had suffered more.

“I am needing a roof over my head.” She managed the few words even with panic and despair swirling inside her. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “It’s good to see you again.”

Is it, though?

He left the room without looking back. He seemed as content as could be, not put out or annoyed with her. He was pleasant but . . . indifferent. And that was terribly familiar. She’d seen it again and again during those early weeks of their marriage. She’d adored him, and he’d not shown any inclination beyond a general friendship.

For six months, she’d broken her own heart to pieces waiting for that to change. And for the next three years, she’d pasted the bits back together, all the while hoping his heart would soften and he’d find something in her to miss and long for. If her heart broke anew, she weren’t certain she’d ever find a way to be whole again.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Day dawned bright and promising the next morning. Barnabus quickly consumed his breakfast and retired to the library, as he always did.

He had a number of people to help today, though none of them would be his traditional kind of patients. Thinking of his responsibilities to the DPS inevitably made him think of his mother.

She had lived a tragic and short life, dying when Barnabus was only twelve. He loved and missed her. She’d taught him so much in the limited time they’d had together. She was the reason he worked as hard as he did to save women and girls from the fate that had awaited her when she’d come to London and the life she’d been forced to live from then on. She was the reason he never allowed himself to lose his focus.

“Our path can turn to misery without warning,” she’d said to him as she lay dying of a fever. “Don’t waste a moment of your life.”