She wondered how he had come to be so talented at mathematics. He’d explained to her once, after she’d begged him to multiply some ridiculously long sums, how he saw the numbers in his head, except he didn’t actually see them, they just sort of arranged themselves until he knew the answer. She hadn’t even tried to pretend that she understood him, but she’d kept asking questions because he was so adorable when he was frustrated.

He smiled when he was with her. She didn’t think he’d smiled very often before.

Was it possible to fall in love with someone in so short a time? Honoria had known Marcus her whole life before she fell in love with him. Daniel had claimed love at first sight with Miss Wynter. Somehow that almost seemed more logical than Sarah’s journey.

She supposed she could lie in bed all night and doubt herself, but she was feeling too restless, so she climbed out of bed, walked to the window, and pushed back the curtains. The moon wasn’t full, but it was more than halfway there, and the silvery light sparkled on the grass.

Dew, she thought, and she realized she’d already donned her slippers. The house was quiet, and she knew she shouldn’t be out of her room, and it wasn’t even that the moonlight was calling . . .

It was the breeze. The leaves had long since dropped from the trees, but the tiny points at the ends of the branches were light enough to ruffle and sway. A spot of fresh air, that was all she needed. Fresh air and the wind tickling through her hair. It had been years since she’d been permitted to wear it down outside her bedroom, and she just wanted to go outside and . . .

And be.

The same night

A different room

Sleep had never come easily to Hugh Prentice. When he was a small child, it was because he was listening. He didn’t know why the nursery at Ramsgate wasn’t off in some far-flung corner like at every other house he’d ever been to, but it wasn’t, and it meant that every now and then, and never when they expected it (which was not true; they always expected it), Hugh and Freddie would hear their mother cry out.

The first time Hugh heard it, he jumped out of bed, only to be stopped by Freddie’s restraining hand.

“But Mama . . .”

Freddie shook his head.

“And Father . . .” Hugh had heard his father’s voice, too. He sounded angry. And then he laughed.

Freddie shook his head again, and the look in his eyes was enough to convince Hugh, who was five years his junior, to crawl back into his bed and cover his ears.