Rothhaven was quietly pleased to report that, very quietly, very pleased. As he rattled off the whereabouts and professions of the three remaining residents Constance had known, she realized that Rothhaven had done what few people ever do—made dreams come true for others.

“I want to shake the blossoms from every tree in this orchard and dance for joy,” she said. “I want to shout my delight to the heavens. This is better than I could have dreamed of, a triumph for the ages.”

“It’s a half dozen people finding the lives that should never have been taken from them, Constance, but thank you. Nathaniel was very much the duke when he and I were reunited, and I was very much…not myself. I needed a project, he needed time to accommodate the notion that I was yet alive. When I had everybody settled, I realized I had yet to settle me, and thus I began my work in the garden.”

This conversation was extraordinary for so many reasons, not the least of which was the sheer gladness Rothhaven’s news brought Constance. The lot of Soames’s patients were all safe and sound, all reasonably happy. The families who’d tried to wash their hands of inconvenient relatives, the villages relieved to see a difficult person “sent off for a respite” hadn’t had the last word.

Not at all.

Rothhaven brushed a few plum blossoms from her shoulders, once again giving her that bemused, contemplative look he’d turned on her previously.

“Do you recall how you felt when you found that cheese wrapped in linen among your weekly allotment of clean bedding?” she asked.

The last few petals clinging to her shoulders, he blew away. “I was intoxicated with hope, with glee, with the certain knowledge that somebody saw my circumstances and was outraged enough on my behalf to take action. The power of that, of being seen and cared for by a person with the courage to act, made all the difference in the world.”

She took him by the lapels. “That’s how I feel when I’m with you, Rothhaven. Seen, cared for, by somebody with great courage and integrity. I am full of good, powerful feelings. May I kiss you?”

“No,” he said, his lips quirking. “I have earned the right to kiss you first.” He brushed his mouth over hers, and even in his kiss, Constance tasted joy and sweetness and—yes, that was the word—tenderness.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Robert had spent years longing to return home, imagining that beautiful day, and conjuring explanations to excuse his father’s betrayal. In his mind’s eye, he’d seen the ducal coach-and-four pulling up to the front door of Rothhaven Hall, the servants lined up to welcome him home. His parents would stand at the top of the terrace steps, beaming proudly and a little awkwardly, for they would have much explaining to do.