“Yes.” All of the letters were from the same woman. He’d never met her, and yet he knew a dozen little details about her—that her hair was the color of a sunset and her skin was as freckled as a quail’s egg. That she made the best suet pudding and the worst kidney stew in all of England.

Her latest letter had arrived yesterday, but the others had been sitting there for at least a week before that. Taunting him, tormenting him. But he couldn’t bring himself to open them.

So he unceremoniously swept them into a drawer and produced a clean sheet of paper for Sophie.

He prowled the study while she wrote. A few minutes later, she set down the pen and stood. “There,” she said, leaving the paper on the desk. “This will make a fine start.”

“Thank you.” He moved away from the window, where he’d kept an eye on the pebbled drive in front of the house. “The hackney cab just arrived.” He wanted to ask her where her family thought she was and whether she was going directly home now. He wanted to know if Lord Singleton treated her well and whether she looked at him the way she’d looked at Reese when he’d given her the flower crown.

But he knew damned well those things were not his business.

“Well then,” she said with forced cheerfulness, “I suppose I shall see you next Friday evening. Same place, same time?”

“Yes,” Reese said, already wishing away the days in between. “I will see you then.”

He picked up her portmanteau, walked her outside, and stood back while Sophie spoke to the driver, presumably giving him an address. Then Reese paid the man and opened the cab door for her.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself,” she asked, her forehead creased with concern. She took a satchel of herbs from her reticule and dropped it into his palm. “Ride your horse during the day and try to sleep at night. With the valerian-root tea or without it. In your bed or under the stars. Just…” She tilted her head as though searching for the thing that would help him most. “Just … think of me.”

“I will,” he said solemnly. At last, he’d made a promise that would be easy to keep.

“You’re acting rather nervous today,” Lily said, narrowing her striking green eyes at Sophie. “Like the time we hid a frog in Miss Haywinkle’s bed, and you insisted on sneaking back into her room to take the poor creature out.”