Skerrits. I smiled in greeting to Tom and his pretty sister. Tom was as familiar to me as my own reflection in the mirror, so I rarely noticed his appearance, but this morning, with a sense of what I might soon lose, I studied him closer. It would be strange not to have him as a neighbour any more.

Tom was tall and dark, and preferred to wear his own hair rather than a formal wig. While not precisely handsome, he possessed a friendly countenance out of which gleamed a pair of amused grey eyes. He would be a good catch for someone. At one time, local society assumed it would be me, but he’d never asked and I’d never pushed the possibility. We had run together almost as brother and sister, and as far as I knew, he’d never thought of me in any other way.

Georgiana looked fetching today, wearing an Indian muslin gown printed with little flowers and a red cloak. I was envious that she didn’t have to wear boring black or grey. The blue of her gown matched her eyes to perfection.

“Trusty dropped a shoe?” I asked when they caught up.

Tom cast an anxious look at the horse. “Yes, so I thought I’d take him at once.”

A hill stood between Golightly Manor and the village. We chatted while we climbed it. The slope wasn’t particularly gentle, but we were all used to it, so didn’t get out of breath. The new grass felt crisp and springy beneath our feet, and I savoured the sensation, knowing I wouldn’t have it for much longer. Nothing would ever be the same again. I was leaving something I loved behind.

Lizzie and Georgiana walked ahead, chatting about the latest fashions and my upcoming wedding. I followed behind with Tom. We had to walk a little slower to let Trusty find his feet when he stumbled, and to ensure we didn’t go over anything that might get into the horse’s hoof. I was in no hurry.

Tom turned to me, a question in his eyes. “You never told me what Hareton Abbey was like. I know it was dirty, and abandoned, but why won’t your brother use it?” James had inherited Hareton Abbey with the title, and we’d travelled up there the previous year.

“If it was cleaned and put in order,” I told him, “it would still be impersonal. It’s far too large and badly built.”

“Badly built?” Tom sounded surprised. Hareton was reputed to be one of the great houses of the country in its day, but my friend hadn’t seen the devastation that abandonment had wrought on it.

I stared up at the blue sky as we crested the hill. It was the same sky in Yorkshire, though it hadn’t seemed so at the time. “Yes. James was pleased when he heard that. It gave him the excuse he needed to come home. We didn’t know anyone there, and Martha would never have been happy. It’s a much better idea to rebuild the Manor.”

A bird soared overhead, singing. A Devonshire bird.

“What will happen to the Abbey?” asked my old friend.

I returned my attention to him. “Nothing. It can’t be sold because it’s part of the entail. James will leave it to rot, or perhaps rent it out. He’ll move all the treasures he wants here and sell the rest. The dowager countess, Lady Patience, is living in the Dower House, and I don’t think she’ll willingly set foot in the Abbey again. The place is doomed, Tom.” I wasn’t sorry. The Abbey had become a place of misery and suffering. Its stones had seemed to weep in the damp autumn weather last year.

Tom smiled at my dramatic words, as I had meant him to. I didn’t want him to ask any more. The events of that time were privy to our family alone, and safer if they remained so. And what had happened to me was only for me and one other to know.

Tom’s horse stumbled, enabling me to drop the subject. We stopped to allow Trusty to recover, and I gave my friend a statement of fact, hoping he wouldn’t realise I was drawing him away from the personal aspects of our visit. “The third earl had the old building torn down and rebuilt, but he didn’t keep his eye on the builders. Hareton might be grandiose, but it needs completely rebuilding to make it habitable again. We don’t like it, so why bother?”

Tom grinned again and gave me a deliberate up and down scan. My old grey gown wasn’t the height of fashion and had definitely seen better days, but I recognised his regard as friendly teasing. I didn’t mind that from Tom. “I thought you’d come back the grand lady.”

“You know me better than that.” I looked down with a rueful smile. My clothes could best be described as serviceable; the gown, the sturdy leather shoes I loved and had repaired regularly, and my unornamented black cloak. There was nothing about me to indicate any change in my situation.

“You’ll be a countess one day.”

I wished he hadn’t mentioned it. It wasn’t something I wanted, but Richard went along with the title, and I definitely wanted him. “Maybe.” I smoothed my skirt, a habitual gesture when I felt nervous or unsure, feeling the rough woollen cloth under my hand. It gave me a small measure of assurance.

“It’s suitable now you’re an earl’s sister. It’s what’s expected of you by most people.” I shook my head in denial but he continued, “You know you don’t have to? That James can settle a jointure on you so you can live as you always wanted to—independently?”

He reminded me of something I’d always dreamed about, something I’d often shared with him.

“If it